At my recent book release party for The Telling, my second novel, a long-time friend approached and lathered me with praise. They were so proud of how far I’d come, what I’d accomplished, and how successful I’d been. I smiled and thanked them. But deep inside, I didn’t buy a thing they said.
You see, I don’t consider myself a “successful” writer.
I know, I know. “Success” is a relative term. What’s “successful” for one writer is “falling short” for another. Nevertheless, I’ve always been suspicious of this line of reasoning. It’s like when people claim, “I write for God. My affirmation comes from Him!” Sure, there’s a lot of truth to that. We shouldn’t base our success strictly on public praise, financial remuneration, awards, or five-star reviews. Writers must derive significant satisfaction from something other than sales and critical acclaim, because those can be unpredictable and fleeting.
Problem is, falling back on the “God defines my success” reasoning can be a convenient way to justify mediocrity. I mean, who cares if your prose is unpolished, your characters are one-dimensional, your plot is predictable, your dialogue is stilted, and readers are bored stiff? As long as God defines you as a “success,” nothing else matters, right? I don’t know. You might be happy with your writing, but if you can’t get readers, agents, and/or publishers to agree with your assessment, how “successful” are you really?
Someone once said, God is easily pleased, but rarely satisfied. I like that, and think it’s a good principle for a writer to embrace. A writer should be easily pleased with their accomplishments, but rarely satisfied. So you completed a first draft? Congratulations. So you signed with an agent? Well done. So you sold 5,000 copies of your first novel? Very cool.
Now what?
Listen, I’m proud of many accomplishments. I’ve come a long way, from a lost high school kid who barely graduated and almost got killed in an auto accident, to a family man with a wonderful wife, kids, and grandkids, to a published author with a fantastic agent and a lot of cool writing friends. So, yeah, I’m pleased.
I’m just not satisfied.
Perhaps that’s a set-up for discontent. That’s a possibility. Maybe it’s evidence of deep-seated pessimism. Could be. It also might be workaholism, an inability to just slow down and enjoy life. Yep. Either way, I doubt I’ll ever feel totally “successful.”
And, in a way, I think that’s a good thing.
* * *
So where’s your “success threshold”? At what point do you consider yourself a “successful” writer?
Success is when my books starts getting recognitions through winning awards and getting recommendations from individuals. These endorsements naturally translates to sales from which I hope to enjoy that “full-time writer” status we all aspire to.
Call it perfectionism, workaholism, Type A, or ambitiousness–people with drive like you have won’t ever feel “successful” because when you reach the bar you’ve set, you move it up and aim again. I know, because I can be the same way.
I started with my first novel, thinking I’d be happy with just having one published book. Granted, I didn’t land the *big* publisher I’d hoped, but I am very “pleased” with my small publisher, my novel, the cover, and the incredible experiences I’ve had going down this particular path. I am not, however, even close to “satisfied.”
And I know *now* that having *one* book out with a big publisher, even if I have this whole series now with my small publisher on top of it, won’t be enough. When I do finally land that big publisher with a novel down the road, I’ll be setting my sights on the next one.
My goal is also not necessarily big sales numbers (although I won’t be turning them down if they come!). What I really want is to have at least one of my books classified with works such as A Wrinkle in Time by Madeline L’Engle. The kind of book that is *still* on kids’ summer reading lists 50 years from now. That might make me satisfied. Of course, that means I have to wait till I’m 90-something to know I’m there….
I agree completely. There is never going to be a moment when I sit back, sigh, and say “I have arrived.” That’s not to say we aren’t overjoyed and thankful for our successes, but there is always more in our minds that we CAN accomplish. Take J.K. Rowling, for instance, the prime example of what some might call a “successful” author. She conquered the literary world, and yet she just keeps on writing.
“As long as God defines you as a “success,” nothing else matters, right?”
In college I went to a church where the pastor, before his sermon, was talking about a doctor’s visit for some health problems. He said, “The doctor said I was sick, but the Lord said I was fine.”
I thought, why bother going to the doctor in the first place?
I don’t know if this is artist mentality, or just a personality type, but my family tells me I can take any success and turn it into a failure. They aren’t exactly right. It’s as you say–I just keep raising the bar. And I’m a pessimist. But I’m working on it. I don’t even think I can call this perfectionism. It’s more like a deep, unmet need inside that drives me forward.
I was thinking about book reviews the other day and pondering their worth, and I think the 5-star system really doesn’t cut it. This isn’t a profound realization, but an important distinction. There are many books out there that rise to the level of 5 out of 5 stars for what they are–pulp fiction. But what do you with books that are reaching for greatness, but haven’t arrived yet? I could rate them 3 out 5 stars, but that doesn’t seem exactly fair. And maybe that’s the trouble you’re having with reviews. You’re reaching for this intangible greatness in art and know you haven’t arrived there yet, or your soul is still unsatisfied because you always raise the bar for yourself–and in that case, you will never arrive–but for others, and their expectations, you might have already arrived at a level of proficiency they will never reach.
I know it’s sort of off-topic, but Jill, I LOVE what you say here. You’ve captured something I’ve been trying to articulate.
“There are many books out there that rise to the level of 5 out of 5 stars for what they are–pulp fiction.”
Some books are five-star *for what they are*. THAT. That right there.
I said I want (at least) one of my books to be listed next to A Wrinkle in Time someday. But I don’t set that as my bar for books when I review them. Not all books. Some books. If a book is obviously *aiming* for that–to be among novels like The Giver or The Hunger Games–and fails, I rate it accordingly. But if it’s *aiming* for “fun, quick, read” that’s meant to entertain someone for a few hours while lying in a hammock sipping a pina colada…
My point is, success is meeting your goal. Some books are supposed to be great literature, and some are supposed to be, um, great fluff :P.
OK, back to Mike’s topic. I just had to interject that.
Years ago I remember thinking if I ever got something published in Highlights for Children I’d have arrived. When they published the first story I sent them, instead of feeling like I’d arrived, I was already way past wanting to get published there. I’d moved on to wanting to have a book published.
First we want to stand up and pull ourselves along the couch, then we want to walk without holding on, then we want to run. It would be silly for a five-year-old to start pulling himself up by the couch again, but that doesn’t mean that when he did it at eleven months it wasn’t a great accomplishment. He was a success, but now he wants to learn to ride a bike.
We should be moving forward as long as we live. I think it’s important to remember, though, that others still haven’t accomplished what we have. So to me, getting published in Highlights for Children is old news, but there are others who still look at that as the next big goal they want to achieve and I need to clap for them as furiously as I clap for the baby who takes his first steps. It’s the right thing for writers at a certain stage and it’s a good thing to celebrate. It’s a great accomplishment.
Also for your friend to tell you that you’ve accomplished great things is appropriate. you’ve had the second book sold for a year and you’ve moved on to seeking the next thing, but the friend is just seeing the book come out and he’s supposed to celebrate that.
I’ve been going through the same thing, Mike. I have more books out of print (8) than I have in print (2). For me, success would be to travel, as a writer, with my wife, and for neither of us to be concerned with having day jobs. “Success” has always translated “reading audience” for me, and I guess it always will. More than anything, I have always wanted the Light of Christ to shine through my work; and I want the assurance that I have been the best husband to my wife that I possibly could be. God may be preparing me for other work later, but right now is where He wants my head. Working out my salvation with fear and trembling has not been easy. I stand with Hawthorne in his valiant struggle. My ancestors were complete screw-ups, apparently.
Perhaps a bit of apples and oranges here, Mike, by comparing what pleases or satisfies God with what pleases or satisfies man. What rates as “success” or satisfaction to a believer should be in accomplishing what the Lord has set before h/her to do and doing it to the best of one’s ability. That individual ability varies significantly from individual to individual. Writing progresses as do other arts. We desire to improve and reach another level not to impress God but to honor Him. And, yeah, if we’re writing books, we desire to reach an audience beginning with the professionals for affirmation. This factor, however, doesn’t always merit “success” as you pointed out.
I think it’s wise to keep going, to not dwell on the temporary but to appreciate it. There’s always more to do. For me, true success comes in continuing in what God has asked of me – and that isn’t always easy and it doesn’t always lead to my or others’ versions of “success”.
I had to ponder this one a bit.
For me success is writing a story that I’m proud of, and then reading it again 10 years later and still feeling proud of it. Perhaps even thinking to myself “Wow, this is really good. Self, how did you ever come up with this?”
Interesting post today, Mike — especially since I’m talking about the same topic over at Seekerville. And, yes, I pulled God into my “success” equation.
Why?
Because that’s what I’ve been wrestling with the most since my novel debuted in May: me & my heart-attitude about the whole definition of success. I’ve stumbled into the comparison trap more than once. (And, no, it’s not the first time.)
The way I screw my head back on straight is by going for long walks and talks with God. (Sometimes out loud. So far, no one has come by and offered a straight jacket.)
This is not to say I disagree with you.
I am not using my faith as an exempt clause for writing well. For aiming for excellence.
Rather, my faith is more of an anchor to keep me from straying too far and poisoning my attitude about this whole writing gig.
Where did you get that can opener, Mike? Every time you turn it, worms pour out. Good if you’re a fisherman, and I do like to fish. I love snagging a big idea and getting it in the boat (my head). And this is as big as a blue fin that tail-dances across the water forever and wears you out.
My two cents: Writing is a craft, and like every other craft, it is HIGHLY subjective. So is success. And truly–I don’t think any Christian will disagree–there’s only one Person who will determine our true success, which we won’t know until we’ve sucked that last breath. Then it’s “Well done good and faithful servant”—or not.
In the meantime, a healthy level of dissatisfaction with our work is good. Aim high. Work hard. Do your best (in this highly subjective craft). And when that last breath arrives, hear the One who determines if we’ve achieved the only success that’s worthy.
I haven’t read the previous comments & I’m responding in haste. I’ll try to get back here later to read everyone’s responses.
This entry struck a nerve that had already made a bit sore recently from a long, thoughtful & ultimately depressing assessment of both my life & my writing.
Amongst other thoughts, you said,
“I’ve come a long way… to a family man with a wonderful wife, kids, and grandkids, to a published author with a fantastic agent and a lot of cool writing friends.”
Response: Wow! I wish! … Not jealous. … Not jealous. Yeah, yes, I am. Lord forgive me.
(And yes, praise God for what He has done in your life, Mike.)
“It’s like when people claim, “I write for God”.”
Response: Well, that’s the only thing I’m sure about with my writing. Early on, say especially from 1979 when I started “Seabird” through the 80’s, I was convinced God was inspiring me to write. Each night after work when I picked up writing where I had left off, would pray for guidance. Then I would look over the previous night’s work to get myself up to speed before I added anything new. I often found it disconcerting. Where had this or that come from? I couldn’t explain otherwise where some of the ideas and even some wording came from, aside from inspiration.
“We shouldn’t base our success strictly on public praise, financial remuneration, awards, or five-star reviews. ..”
Response: That’s good to hear. 🙂 Aside from a very small but greatly treasured number of writer/friend/fans, there’s been none of the above since my first book came out in Jan 2008.
But then you add…
“You might be happy with your writing, but if you can’t get readers, agents, and/or publishers to agree with your assessment, how “successful” are you really?””
Response: Excuse me while I recover from a bit of whiplash from reading this sentence not long after reading the sentence above. ;-P
Now, to answer your question. For me, pretty much not at all.
Not unlike the Terminator, “I’ll be back.”
Success might mean paying the bills by writing books.
Or to some it might mean, people know who you are, or to even be famous.
How many “successful” people are really a shell of who God wants them to be?
I’d like to pay the bills, to be known a little, but to continue to grow in my writing abilities as well as growing into the person, husband, father God created me to be.
So to me, to be successful, we must reach a high level–and continue to grow.
Success is figuring out, and then doing, what you were meant to do, and not settling for less. Just as Ray Bradbury did for so long before dying this week: http://news.yahoo.com/blogs/lookout/science-fiction-author-ray-bradbury-dies-144137431.html