I've never compared myself to other writers.
What's the point of comparing the quality of your writing to someone else's, when we're all different. There's no ideal — not anywhere, not in anything. I saw my own growth when I wrote my second book. I'd assumed I was still the same, that the writing was just as good, that nothing had changed. But it's visible to the naked eye. The prose flows better, there's less padding, fewer unnecessary descriptions and words, and it just reads more easily overall. That made me smile, and I was happy with the change. It means the next book will be even better.
Of course, I love all my books. And the first one — clumsy, even a little modest in places — especially. Because it's the first book I ever wrote! And that's no small thing! Almost 300 pages!
There's an important detail we usually miss when we compare ourselves to others: we take someone else's result after ten years of work and lay it next to our own beginning. And then we're surprised it doesn't match up. It's like looking at someone else's fully renovated house and feeling upset that all you have is a foundation pit.
That's what a first book is for — it isn't meant to be a masterpiece right out of the gate. It's meant to get you to the second one. And the one after that.
Your first book is the result of starting. Just starting. And that's enormous in itself — most people who want to write a book never actually start. You started. That already puts you ahead of most people.
Compare your first book to your own later ones. You wrote a paragraph today that didn't exist yesterday. That's your baseline. Everything else is someone else's story.
And love your own writing. All of it, even the most naive and clumsy parts. Because who's going to love it first, if not you?