You might think that after 320 days of daily writing I've become pretty confident with my skills, but it ain't the case. I've barely scratched the surface of what great writing is.
I'm definitely a lot better than before, but I'm nowhere near being an excellent writer.
The more you write, the more you learn about yourself. It makes you aware of your own limitations. I love it, because where there are opportunities, there is hope.
How am I going to be better? By reading more from great writers whose life and style inspire me: Hemingway, Umberto Eco, Jack Kerouac, Jane Austen, Thoreau, Twain, Jack London, Bukowski, Virginia Woolf, Samuel Beckett, and Robert Greene, to start with. Mostly American literature because it's foreign to me and I need to improve my English.
I'm currently reading The Sun Also Rises by Hemingway and I'm finishing Robert Greene's Mastery. Hemingway's writing style is so fluid and elegant, it's a delight to read. Greene's first principle reasoning and research skills are awe-inspiring, each paragraph packs a punch.
I'll absorb it all, I'll make it my own. Merely writing more won't get me far, I have to consume more as well. There is no way around reading and confronting myself to great work. That's how humans evolve, by building upon previous generations.