You might hear of many authors claiming they always had absolute faith in their ability to get published. I admit I was one of those, and for a long time it served me pretty well. I tried short stories first because they were where I could see a result fairly quickly.
My early attempts were pretty dire – but at least it was my dire and nobody else’s, so I didn’t care; I was writing, therefore was a writer. Undaunted by early rejections, I ploughed on, filled with the dizzying oxygen of self-confidence and dreams of literary success, certain that one day agents and editors would beat a path to my door.