As writers, we’ve been told time and time again that we need to develop thick skins, deal with criticism constructively, persevere in the face of a thousand rejection slips. And we’ve all heard the stories of how many well-known authors were turned down by countless editors, only to later publish a best seller.

But the reality for most of us is this: Success is hard to measure in the world of fiction writing, and it’s up to you to create a realistic measure for yourself. Take a minute to examine your ultimate goals and determine how to stay focused and positive during the difficult process of submitting your writing.

Do you feel you’ll be a failure if you don’t produce the next great American novel, or if you publish only 7 poems instead of the 50 you promised yourself? If your happiness is tied up in reaching certain goals, maybe it’s time for some reevaluation. Sure, Sylvia Plath’s genius was inextricably tied to her despair and depression, but for the most part, a dejected, deflated writer will produce dejected, deflated writing. It’s time to take charge of your happiness so you can take charge of your writing.

One of the most important skills you can have as a writer is the ability to detach yourself from your work and diagnose its weaknesses objectively—as if you were a doctor examining a patient.

We all get married to a word, a turn of a phrase, a paragraph that is stylistically glorious. But what may showcase your prose style may also detract from your book’s plot (and vice versa). It takes the ability to look at your work in a clinical manner—with you as the cool, dispassionate, detached doctor whose only mission is to diagnose and cure the ills.

It is not easy—we all get emotionally involved with our work—but with practice you can become your own book’s best doctor. You diagnose the problems and you devise the cures. Sometimes only an aspirin will be needed; other times a scalpel will be required; and sometimes, unfortunately, only radical, risky surgery will save the patient.