P.J. Fox's Blog, page 19

How Can I Know If He’s The One?

Author’s note: I originally wrote this letter to a dear friend of mine, as she suffered through a breakup.  A breakup with a man who made her feel foolish for believing in him, and who made her doubt her own value.  Who, in her words, made her lose her sparkle.  And so she did the right thing, the courageous thing: she left him.  And left herself wondering if, in not giving him yet another chance, in lowering her expectations even further to produce harmony, she was doing the wrong thing.  For he was one of those types who believed that a proper woman was invisible.  So I said…

The right man will not be perfect, but he will be perfect for you. He will be your best friend, who is as relaxing to be with as being alone. He will make you laugh. And, sometimes, because we’re all only human, he’ll make you cry. But never intentionally and never because he’s lied, cheated, or given you cause to doubt him. Doubt him in terms of his integrity, or doubt him in terms of his commitment to you. He will make mistakes, but they will be the foolish mistakes of a man who is trying to grow. Who is committed, each and every day, to being his best self.

He will fail. The only people who never fail are the ones who never try. He will fail, and fail again, at different things throughout the course of his life because he never stops trying: to love you, to be a husband to you, and to be the best him that he can be. For you, and for himself. For the life you want to build together. He’ll have, not dreams and goals but plans of action. Goals are pure fantasy unless you have a plan to achieve them.

He will work hard. He will know who he is. He will be honest and decent and kind. He will live out the true meaning of the term “work ethic,” for he will approach his work with the ethic by which he defines his existence. He will stand his ground. He will never prioritize fitting in or “not causing a fuss” over doing what’s right. He will be the man whom others look to, as an example of right. Of choosing the right; of loving the right.

He will have friends. A lack of friends is an enormous red flag—in both genders. A man with no friends is a man who hasn’t committed himself to earning the respect of others. He might not win any popularity contests, but he will be surrounded by those who love him. He will know who they are, and he will honor their commitment to him by his commitment to them. He will be strong-willed enough to set boundaries, and to enforce them, but he will never be “too busy” to help someone in need. He will understand the absolutely vital importance, in all respects, of being present. And he will be present: physically and emotionally.

He will not lie. He will not lie directly, neither will he lie by omission. He will never take the coward’s path, of hurting you until you pull back. He will, rather, take responsibility for his wants and needs and for his own weaknesses. He will apologize when necessary but, at the same time, he will listen. He will honor your point of view, even if he isn’t always capable of seeing it, at least at first, and your conversations will be emotional oxygen. For both of you.

He will be the same person one day that he is the next.

He will understand that it’s not “my way” or “your way,” but “our way.”

Although he’ll make mistakes, he’ll never put you in a position of having to make excuses for him. Of having to explain his conduct from others or, even worse, hide that conduct from them for fear of their forming a negative opinion. Nothing in his conduct, as imperfect as he is, should ever require editorialization. Nor selective truth: his character stands up to scrutiny. His choices, whether right or wrong, are defensible on their own merit. He is a whole and complete person, who needs no one looking over his shoulder to ensure that he does what he’s supposed to do. It’s human nature to make comparisons, and while he might not be the most powerful or materially successful, he’ll earn your respect to the point where comparisons become meaningless: because he’ll be, quite simply, the best man you know.

He will never make you feel less. Marriage is supposed to be one of the best parts of life, not one of the worst. Any man who makes you feel as though you need to earn his love, or are somehow deficient, does not deserve you. He will never leave you feeling as though you have to earn the right to be in a relationship, or convince him of your worth. The right man is going to see that worth, even more than you do.

And, with him, you’ll feel stronger and more independent and more incredible than ever before.

He will fight for you; he will not need, or want, for you to be “easy.”

He will never leave you wondering, leave you doubting, leave you berating yourself for driving him away with your too high standards. Because his standards will be your standards; you’ll be partners, in the truest sense of the term, in all things. Anyone who has to be talked into sharing his partner’s values is incompatible; true love grows over time, and from shared purpose. Romance can be ignited, and reignited, but respect once lost is gone forever.

And finally, though there will be ups and downs, and moments of doubt, nothing in his conduct toward you will give you cause to question the safety of a future.

Wait, How Is This Relevant?

If I’m a writer, and this is a blog about writing, why do I write so much about things that aren’t writing?

The short answer: I don’t.

Quite a few people visit this site looking specifically for posts tagged “marketing” and ignore everything else.  Which is indicative of a larger trend, of people being more interested in selling a book than in creating one in the first place.  But all the marketing strategies in the world aside, and Tommy Boy references aside, you can’t actually sell a dump in a box.  First you have to do the hard work of learning how to write and, moreover, learning how to write something that people want to read.  And you do that by connecting with them.

I write about what’s interesting to me, but the better part of my less technical musings are related to what I’m writing, or planning to write, at that moment.  Describing swords and lances and cannibalism, that’s the easy part; making people care is what’s hard and so I spend the lion’s share of my writing time, some days, thinking through how to first connect myself emotionally to what’s happening with my characters and second, how to share those feelings with my readers.  How to help them feel what I feel: to share that sense of urgency, that sense of dread.  That fear that things won’t work out–or that they will.  It doesn’t matter if you’re writing about football or sparkly vampires or the middle ages, what makes all good stories real isn’t where they’re set or what they’re about but that human connection.

If a person isn’t interested in other people, and in what makes them tick, and in the world around them, I quite frankly don’t understand how they can be even a mediocre writer.  Forget a good one.  To me, all that stuff that so many dismiss is what it’s all about.  And no, I’m not trying to write for everyone–that’s impossible.  Same as, when I was single, I wasn’t looking to marry everyone.  I was looking to be the best me I could be, and thus attract the best partner: someone who valued me, completely, for who I actually was.  And whom I could value in turn, on that same level.  As a writer–as a person–you look to make, not hundreds or thousands or millions of equally shallow connections but those really important ones.  To connect with those people, who are in tune with who you are.

I spend a few hours a month on marketing.  And most of that time is spent discussing and debating what I’m doing and whether or not it’s working.  The answer is never to blindly throw more money, or more time, at the problem.  If a little of a certain strategy isn’t working…what makes anyone think that ten times as much will suddenly produce different results?

But most of my work-related time I spend writing.  Actually writing, or researching, planning and taking notes.  I’m not much of an outliner, except in the broad strokes sense, but I do take copious notes.  And when I’m stuck on a particular person, place or thing, I get out there.  You can’t grow in your writing unless you’re also growing as a person, and that means learning what the universe has to teach you.

All of it.

Not cherry picking, based on your current understanding of your current needs, but being open to the complete experience.

Thoughts?

Rumors

As a writer, it’s exceptionally important to be self aware.  You can’t write effectively about the world around you, if you can’t understand that world to begin with.  Which necessarily requires, first, understanding yourself.  Yourself, in terms of your own wants and desires, and yourself in terms of your relationship to others.  All too often, we paste a mental picture of who we want to be, and how we want others to interpret our motives over the truth of who we actually are.  Which, of course, leads us nowhere: because this is fantasy, not reality.  Reality is not, and has never been, self-serving.  It accepts the good with the bad, because it simply is.  Unlike individual people, reality has no agenda.

I have a situation in my own life right now where someone is upset with me, blaming me for spreading “rumors” about them.  Which, of course, I’m not.  I think, sometimes, what people mistake for “rumors” is really other people forming their own opinions, based on the facts before them.  Again, all too often, opinions that dispute a person’s chosen narrative are rejected as “rumors,” or otherwise the product of vicious minds.  When in reality, they are a learning opportunity.

There’s how we see ourselves, and then there’s how the world sees us.  Everyone we meet isn’t always going to agree with our editorializations of our own actions, or with how we–consciously or unconsciously–wish to be seen.  And that can be a hard lesson.  It’s no fun to realize that people are judging you or that, in some cases, despite your best efforts they genuinely do not like you.  Sometimes it’s our fault and sometimes it’s nobody’s fault; the world is full of as many opinions as there are people, and chasing down those who disagree with us to attempt to “reform” them only increases the negativity in the world.

This person in my life, did something to me that wasn’t very nice.  She did it very publicly, and expected a different result than she got.  And so she blamed me.  The truth is, I’m no more responsible for others’ viewpoints than she is; you can’t tell people what to believe.  It doesn’t work that way.  Tell people, “I’m nice,” “I’m honest,” it doesn’t matter.  They’ll decide, for themselves, based on their own interpretation of your actions.  Not your words, your actions.  Sometimes they’ll decide right, and sometimes they’ll decide wrong.  “Right” and “wrong” are subjective terms.  Hopefully they’ll decide right for them; that’s all we can any of us hope for, on this mortal coil.

I understand making a public statement, and getting a negative response.  When I first released The Price of Desire, some people hated Aria, my protagonist.  Of course, we want people to agree with us; to agree with our view of the world.  But at the same time, it’s crucially important to recognize that the golden rule, or karma, or whatever term you choose, isn’t merely a random punishment.  It has teaching potential.  Whatever the situation, and however dire it might seem, we conquer it when we learn from it.

I’m a nicer–and hopefully wiser–person because I’ve failed.  And because I’ve let my failures teach me something.  Love me or hate me, I am where I am from following my own advice.  And from selecting, as mentors, those people I admire and want to be more like.  Not everyone likes me, or agrees with me, but at the end of each day I can go to sleep knowing that I lived according to my own values–and that has made all the difference.  The more committed you are to your own path, moral and ethical, the clearer certain things become.  Like who should be in your life, and who shouldn’t; whose advice is worth heeding, and whose isn’t.

Thoughts?

Only For Boys?

Recently, my son endured an incident where he was hit, excluded, and made fun of.  If you’re a parent, you know how watching that–and having to intervene on behalf of my bewildered, sobbing toddler–made me feel.  My attempts to discuss the incident with the other child’s parents were met with failure.  And, you know, I shouldn’t have been surprised: they were making fun of him, too.

Usually, in situations like this, the challenge is in convincing the other parents that their perfect, precious, wonderful child could have done such a thing.  Or so I’m led to believe, from discussing the issue with other parents.  We, personally, have never had to deal with bullying before in this house and so, up until this past week, my understanding had been purely academic and based on hearing about others’ experiences.  But it’s quite another kettle of fish altogether when the parents are there, and watching, and indeed participating.

It rocks your world.  I guess you–or at least I–have this foundational assumption tucked away somewhere that adults are better than that.  That adults protect children.  That adults can be counted on to know better and thus do better.  So when you see them laughing at your child, while he cries…?

There are higher order issues about how, by how we act, we teach our children to value others.  But the immediate concern, this time, was that my son likes “girl things.”  He’s a toddler and, yes, he does–if “girl things” is even a thing, and I think it’s not.  But more on that in a minute.  He, like most toddlers, loves Frozen.  He also loves Sheriff Callie and Sofia the First.  Which, I guess, according to some people, makes him gay and a loser and less worthy of respect than someone who does better at “being a boy.”

Let’s unpack that, shall we?

First of all, way to teach your child to be homophobic.  So what if he were gay?  Why is that supposed to be the worst thing?  And second, what, exactly, is so wrong about liking girls?  As equals?  As people?  Are we really hoping to teach our sons–gay or not–that being interested in women as something other than sex objects makes them less manly?  That “real” men aren’t interested in girls as heroes and leaders?  As individuals just as capable, and inspiring, as their male counterparts?

It should go without saying that whatever a child is into, that child doesn’t deserve to be bullied.  At all.  Ever.  For any reason.  And as parents, when our children act out, our response should never be to justify the bully’s behavior–in this case I was informed that my son “deserved it” for being weird, basically–but to emphasize that acting hurtfully is never the solution.  Either nobody deserves to be bullied, or everybody does.  Reinforcing the idea that it’s “okay sometimes”–like, for example, if someone seems gay to you or if they like the wrong thing–is reinforcing the idea that “good” people can hate.

My son can like whatever he wants, because he’s an authentic individual and I value that about him.

But you know, that all being said, I like that he likes “girl things.”  As a responsible parent, one of my goals is to raise him to view women as equals and to respect them as such.  And as a fiction writer, I maybe have a different perspective in that I’m aware of how recent an innovation these girl heroes are.  Growing up, I liked Simon and Aragorn and Rand al Thor and all the other protagonists in all the other fantasies I read–all of whom were male.  It never occurred to me that I wasn’t “supposed to” like them.  The alternative was Barbie.  And, you know, it never occurred to anyone else, either; if you liked fantasy, then that meant you liked boys and “boy stuff.”  So as a woman and a writer, I’m really psyched to see greater acceptance–however slowly it’s coming–of women as protagonists.  In anything.  Sheriff Callie?  Fine, I’ll take it.

The idea of “boy stuff” and “girl stuff” is increasingly antiquated.  If you like something, and you’re a boy, then it’s “boy stuff.”  One’s gender identity shouldn’t be based on conforming to some rigid, ultimately pointless definition of what a boy “should” be but on self-identifying as a boy.  I’m no less a girl, because I like cars and carpentry.

We live in a world where teenagers are killing themselves, because they despair of ever living up to these ridiculous standards.  Where people who think of themselves as good people castigate toddlers for admiring women rather than just ogling them as sex objects.  All of which is underpinned by the lingering–and horrid–idea that being a girl is somehow less, that wanting anything to do with girls except to subjugate them makes you somehow less and that who would want to be a girl, anyway.

So yeah, the next person who has a problem with my son can take it up with me.

Not On Facebook!

Facebook is, as a friend of mine points out, a great thing.  It lets you share pictures of your kids with your friends who still live halfway across the country (vital, if you’re a coastal transplant like me) and, if you’re an author, it lets you communicate with your fans and lets your fans communicate with each other.  But whether you’re an author or a regular ol’ private citizen, there are certain things that don’t belong on Facebook–ever.

Facebook might have–this time, as my brother observes–become the new normal in terms of communication, but there are still certain things best communicated in person.  Or not at all.  If you wouldn’t say something to someone’s face, then don’t say it to (or about them) online.  To wit, I’ve composed a helpful list of specific rubicons that, if crossed, can do permanent damage to your relationships with your loved ones.  Not to mention your reputation.

So, without further ado…

Don’t vaguebook.  This one should be obvious, but it’s not.  Recently I made some discoveries about a person in my life, and her true feelings about me, not because she’d chosen to tell me to my face but because she’d talked about me to other people.  Over a period of–not just days but months.  While I kept asking her, like the fool I am, what was wrong and if there was anything I could do and she kept stonewalling me, telling me everything was fine, she was telling everyone else and their uncle what a horrible person I was.  What was the original sticking point?  I have no idea.  But once you get past a certain point with someone…

I know what the final issue was.  And it had to do with someone bullying my child, and my response to that (which I’m going to address in another post, stay tuned).  The result being that while no one had the courage to address me directly, some almost complete strangers–who apparently think hitting and gay-shaming toddlers is totally okay–took to the airwaves to vent their ire.

My response, on my own personal page, was this:

“Vaguebooking shouldn’t be a thing. People should have the courage of their convictions, in terms of the sentiments they’re expressing, which means sharing those sentiments to the intended person directly, singularly, and to their face. Otherwise, Facebook becomes just one more way for people to share violence into the world and, thus, just one more tool of the Adversary. So, on that note, if you feel the need to vaguebook about me then we’re not good enough friends to be friends on Facebook. Facebook isn’t a substitute for real life. Because, whatever your feelings about me, we’re obviously not close enough for you to share those feelings to my face and I’d never want to be friends with someone of such low character, anyway. So get lost!”

The rules of online interaction should be simple: there is no distinction between “online” and “real life.”  It’s all your real life.  If you wouldn’t say it to someone’s face, then don’t say it online.  The internet is no substitute for courage.

The second thing that doesn’t belong online are highly personal, frightening, or tragic announcements.  You got engaged?  Fine, put that on Facebook (so long as you told your mother first).  You got cancer?  Don’t choose to tell your loved ones, including your spouse and children, that you have cancer by putting it on Facebook.  Don’t tell your children that one of their siblings has died by putting it on Facebook.  Facebook is not an acceptable means of communicating these things.  I’d argue that that goes for the happy things, too, but at this point I’d settle for the basics.

Those closest to you deserve a different level of effort, in terms of communication, from you than your third grade teacher’s cousin who you friended once five years ago after she made a comment you liked on an argumentative post about vaccines and then forgot about.

I repeat: just like Facebook is not a substitute for courage, it’s also not a substitute for real relationships.  Or for the compassion, sensitivity, and awareness of each person in your life as an individual that go into real relationships.  Yes, telling people things to their faces is hard.  But by putting it on Facebook–however directly or indirectly–you’re still telling them.  You’re not escaping that duty, you’re just discharging it in the most dick way possible.

You’ve still betrayed a trust, ended a friendship, or really hurt a family member’s feelings in these situations–and others.  If you’re familiar with the internet at all (and if you’re not, I don’t know how you’re reading this), then you’ve seen more than your fair share of these things.  Probably in the last week.  That you betrayed someone without having to, say, look them in the eye doesn’t lessen the betrayal.  Hurt feelings don’t “count less,” because they’re the product of online interaction.  There’s still a real, live, human being behind each screen.  A real, live, human being who understands and remembers.

Are you really expecting to see that person, in real life, and act like nothing has happened?

Think about that for a minute, and you’ll realize how futile the exercise is.

An exercise in cowardice.

For authors, specifically, I’ve written a number of posts on what to do (and not do) when it comes to online interaction.  Just check the “Facebook” and “Twitter” tags.  And while most of the advice in this post might seem more personally directed, a check of current events proves otherwise.  We live in an age where authors (literally) lose their minds over less than positive reviews and show up on the reviewers’ doorsteps, ready to confront them.  So my advice in this regard is exactly the same: remember that this isn’t a computer to computer interchange but a person to person interchange and that online counts.

Don’t say things to (or about) fans online that you wouldn’t say to them, to their faces, at a Barnes & Noble.  Don’t use your author page to discuss viewpoints, with which you would not choose to be professionally associated.  Yes, your goal here is to sell books but convincing people that you’re a horrible, hateful person is not the best way to go about doing that.  Don’t attack other authors and don’t use hate speech.  Be polite, and be professional.

Because ultimately, there really is no meaningful distinction between the two.  In work or outside of it, you’re still you.  You still have to live with the consequences of your actions.  And there’s not a person alive who’s going to think, “gosh, he’s a lying, manipulative piece of shit at work (or on his Facebook page), I bet he’s pure as the driven snow at home.”

Why Yes, I Am A Real Person

There’s apparently a rumor going around that I’m not?

When indeed I am!  To verify my personhood, you are welcome to email me.  Or, you can follow me here, on Facebook, or on Twitter or (and) Instagram.  Wherein I bore my small segment of the world with pictures of toddlers and food.  I lead an excessively boring life, and this is by choice.  To wit, I’m spending New Year’s Eve working on The Black Prince, and later making chocolate pancakes for my (very much real) family.  There may also be Chinese food and watching Dick Clark Jr. Ryan Seacrest.

In the meantime, I’m sharing this picture.  You don’t have to agree with what Mr. Uchtdorf stands for or even know who he is to appreciate the sentiment he expresses: that this is your time, and your life.  Nobody else’s.  Don’t wait for Prince Charming, or some other outside force over which you have no control, to come along and magically solve anything.  Create your own happily ever after, by living your dreams each and every day.

Your First Manuscript: Now What?

Congratulations, you’ve completed your first manuscript.

Now what?

Tuck it in a drawer and write another one.

Yes, really.

It’s possible, if not probable, that the first thing you’ve ever written is going to be worthy of publication.  Just like it’s theoretically possible that you’ll score your best time during your first marathon.  But more likely, your first manuscript took years if not decades to write–or, even worse, you wrote it way too quickly–and it’s awful.  Not an end in and of itself but a starting point.  A training session.  And even if it is wonderful, how can you know until you know more about the art and craft of writing?  You have nothing to compare it to, and nothing to compare the experience of writing to.

Yes, you can begin the process of publishing, however you choose to publish.  But what you should do is write your next book.  This first manuscript isn’t going anywhere, you know.  Save it.  You might publish it later.  You might, after having gotten a few more words under your belt, decide that it’s drivel.  The point is, you don’t know.

Traditional publishing, in particular, has created this paradigm wherein publishing a book equals success.  Landing an agent, landing a contract, actually getting your book into bookstores…these things are more than benchmarks.  They’re gatekeepers to any further success.  Thus encouraging most of us to see completing a manuscript, any manuscript, as a means to an end.  Which problem is that, regardless of how you’re published, it’s not.  Ever.  Your first book is only that: your first book.  Rushing something out the door because oh my gosh it’s a book and oh my gosh it’s finished and oh my gosh oh my gosh oh my gosh isn’t going to serve your best interests in the long run.

What you’re aiming for, here, is a carefully curated backlist.  A collection of multiple volumes of your best work.  And while you certainly will grow as a writer–that part is inevitable–you want to make sure that your first published book is something you’ll still be proud of after you’ve published your fifth.  Getting your name out there doesn’t do any good if you’re teaching people to associate it with drivel.

If you do decide to self publish then, whenever you decide to publish, depending on who you hire (if anyone) to help you with interior formatting, cover art, etc, one to three months later you’ll have a book.  You’re not talking the traditional timeline of years–if ever.  Which means that your entire sense of urgency can be focused on, not on sweet talking agents into caring that you exist but in producing your best quality work.  Honing your craft–which can only be done by writing.  Writing, and writing, and continuing to write.

The longer you write, the less challenging the actual mechanics of producing a manuscript will become and the more you can focus on what it is you’re trying to say within that framework.  Your first time out of the gate, just getting past page 30 was probably a herculean effort.  When reaching 100,000 words becomes routine, then you know you’re growing as a writer–and ready to grow as a writer.

How To Support Your Favorite Author (Without Spending Any Money)

This advice is for fans AND authors looking to up their marketing game.

When it comes to supporting the cause, most of us think of one thing: cracking open the wallet.  Authors plead “buy my book” on Twitter and fans, probably not unsurprisingly, think the only thing they can do therefore is part with more cash.  Which…if you’ve already bought the book?  Or what if your favorite author is working on a couple of different series, and you have no interest in one of them?  Are you supposed to go out and buy those books, too, anyway?  Out of–what?  Solidarity?

No.

The good news is that the most useful stuff you can do to support your favorite author is free.  And it all boils down to one (prime) directive.  Hah!  See what I did there?  No, but really.  You need to have an agenda.  The haters do.  And just like their agenda is to spread the word, so is yours.  Only in this case, hopefully, that your favorite author doesn’t suck.  And yeah, spend a couple bucks too, if you want, to buy the books–although most authors give away review copies for free, so you can ask for one if you’re strapped for cash–but mostly your goal here is to have an opinion.

Broke?  Ask for the book.  Yes, really.  The worst that can happen is the author will say no.  But remember, your credibility is on the line here.  And no, I don’t mean in the sense of anyone expecting a good review.  Reasonable people, whether they’ve written books or no, recognize that this is unrealistic.  What I mean is that if you ask for a book, under the premise of later writing a review, then you have to actually write the review.  Unless you really hate the book and by not reviewing it, you think you’re doing your author friend a solid.  In which case, email them and tell them that.  I’m going to add another note here, which is that when you ask for the book: 1) be courteous, 2) make sure you’re writing to the right person (I get emails addressed to someone else, about books I didn’t write, more often than you might think), and 3) specify what format you’d like and how you’d like it to be delivered.
Review it.  However you bought it.  Or were gifted it.  Or stole it from your uncle’s bathroom.  Whatever.  Tell people what you think; help them to understand why they, too, should take a chance on this book.  Positive reviews help.  All that happens, when you don’t review a book, is that that book’s review section becomes a troll cave of haters.
Tweet about it.  And blog about it.  And Instagram it.  And otherwise share the fact of its existence with the world.
Interact with your favorite author on his/her blog!  Ask questions, if you have them.  Let your favorite author know what you want to read more about.  The best blogs are ones with lots of reader feedback.  Remember: most of us aren’t psychic!
Don’t feed the trolls.  

I personally have a real problem with authors who ask for money.  Whether it’s endless “buy my book” spam or PayPal donation buttons or whatever…it doesn’t work and, to my way of thinking, at least, it takes advantage of fans.  The people who see this…they’re already your fans.  They’ve already taken a risk on you.  Reward them, instead of pumping them for more cash.  Want to generate excitement for your next book?  Make the first few chapters available exclusively to whoever subscribes to your mailing list.  Give copies away for free.  Get your name out there.

Both writers and readers need to remember that the kind of promotion I’m talking about here is gravy.  Writing a good book is the meat and potatoes.  That anyone’s going to like it at all, let alone enough to share their enthusiasm, is a freebie.  Readers shouldn’t feel obligated and writers shouldn’t make them feel obligated, by hounding them to write reviews or, God forbid, turning into rabid mongering stalkers over a bad review on Goodreads.  Social contract, people.

Your goal, as a writer, should be to get your name out there.  To acquaint as many people with your work, as painlessly (for them) as possible.  Which requires both growing a thick skin and taking the long view.  And by long view…no one can say, for certain, how long it’s going to take.  Or if “it,” however you personally define success, will ever come.

But you know, character is forever–and character is also part of getting your name out there.  Every single interaction, be it at CVS or on Twitter, teaches people a little more about who you are.  And, indeed, whether they should care.

Thoughts?

Haterade

In today’s program: encouragement for the self published and struggling.

Or traditionally published.  Because let’s face it: as much as some folks don’t want to admit this, published is published.  How your book gets to Amazon isn’t really important.  And whose name is on the spine can’t guarantee much.  I’m a lot more successful than some traditionally published authors and whole lot less successful than some of my self published contemporaries.  But that’s neither here nor there.  Like I said, we’re all published and, since we’re all published, we’re all facing the same hurdles.  The biggest of which is haters.

The biggest?  Yes.  Read on.

People invariably respond with, “wow, you must really like Twilight” to my defense of Stephenie Meyer.  No.  Not particularly.  What I respect is another author putting herself out there.  What I don’t respect, however, is people who can’t write–or, worse, frustrated would-be writers who’ve given up and grown bitter–attacking what they can’t have.  Aesop wrote a fable about that: sour grapes.  I don’t have to personally be in love with another author’s work to treat that author with dignity and respect, and to respect the process in which we’re both involved.  Nor should I.  Respect, given only to those we think “deserve” it, is no respect at all.  It’s masturbating into a mirror.  Because, folks, the bottom line is this: you’re either practicing the golden rule or you’re not.

There are plenty of people who think I’m not deserving of respect–and you, and everyone else reading this.  We’ve all been there.  Does it feel good?  No.  Then don’t pass it on.  Treating others like you want to be treated is serious business and if it were easy, then everyone would do it.

Which brings me back to haters.  Just like the golden rule makes us feel good, haters make us feel terrible.  Which is, of course, their point.  They get off, not by contributing anything to the world but by tearing the world around them down.  For one, entirely selfish reason: to make themselves feel better.  There are haters online, which are the ones we usually focus on, but there are haters in real life, too.  And sometimes those can be worse.

Online haters–and I’ll return to those in a minute–are at least for the most part easy to identify.  Friends and family…there’s an added layer of betrayal, accompanied by that world-tilting feeling of “can I actually be experiencing this?”  I thought, for example, that I’d have to land a NYT bestseller before people turned on me.  Which I’d say seems naive in retrospect but the truth is I still don’t understand.  All it took was publishing a book and I saw those true colors–and not the Phil Collins kind.  Maybe predictably, the people I knew who were also pursuing their dreams were the kindest.  And, apart from general altruism, the most fundamentally disinterested.  Because, you see, they knew it had nothing to do with them.  This was my life.

People say, “what others think of you is none of your business,” and that’s bull.  Reputation matters.  It’s earned and, like anything else, you have a right to the fruits of your labor.  When people talk trash about you, you have the right to question them about their motives.  Which isn’t to say that you’ll get an answer–now or ever.  But freedom to do as you please isn’t freedom from consequences.  Plenty of dick moves are legal.  You have the right, too, to think ill of a person who turns on you.

Suggesting that it’s “none of your business” is suggesting, at the same time, that you don’t–which gives the other guy all the power.  And, too, buys into the most pernicious message of the hater: that your ambition is wrong.  That you’re somehow hurting people by having it, and acting on it.  That you’re somehow doing something wrong, by putting yourself out into the world.  That you, therefore, owe it to people to “understand” their ire.  To excuse it.  That you don’t, in fact, deserve better.

Haters want to convince you that your authentic self is shameful and embarrassing.

It isn’t.

And that’s why I say haters are the worst.  Haters can stop you in your tracks.  Hey, I coach people for a living and I have my moments.  All the negativity gets hard to take.  A friend of mine observed, at Christmas–and this was without my telling him anything about my recent hater issues–that it must be hard to be a writer, because only haters have an agenda.  The people who actually enjoy your book rarely review it; it’s the ones who really have an axe to grind who stay up late into the night, reposting the same one star review to every site they can find.  Or, if they’re feeling really generous, two stars.  Which can end up meaning that the only voices you hear are the negative ones.

The ones saying stop.  Give up.  Your book is the worst book ever written.

Some criticisms–like the so-called “feminists” who have no patience for victims of human trafficking–don’t even make sense.  Oh, books like this disgust you but you think the heroine should have more orgasms?  These are the second kind of hater: the nameless, faceless troll behind the computer, who’s forgotten (or chosen to forget) that another living, breathing human being is on the other side of her computer.  The person who also chooses to forget that if she had gotten encouragement instead of censure, maybe she’d still be writing too instead of tearing down people who still have courage where hers has failed.

Because–and this is what you need to remember, if you remember nothing else–putting yourself out there is an act of courage.  You are brave.  You are doing what most people are too pussy to do.  You are being yourself.  Your real, honest, authentic self.  And you are saying, “look, world, here I am!  Come at me!”  And when they do…you don’t take your book down.  You don’t throw the computer out the window.  You write another one.

Expect more haters–like, Walking Dead-style hordes–because this drives them wild.  Your refusal to not become a zombie is what drives all schoolyard bullies wild, whether they’re (so-called) friends or “Amazon customer” reviews.  They want you to give up, like they’ve given up, because then they don’t have to feel so bad.  It’s no different than the coworker who tries to sabotage your diet, or steal your girlfriend.  That haters don’t often recognize themselves as such, or refuse to, doesn’t change the fact of what they are.  And yes, it’s okay to call them on it.

What?  You thought it was only okay for them to tear you down and shatter your dreams?  To tell you that your life’s work is shit?  No, you also have the right to tell them (if only in your own mind, you don’t want to sink to their level) to go screw.  To write blog posts like this.  To tell the people in your “real” life to back off, and maybe go check their own grass before pissing on yours.  You owe them the same basic respect that you owe all creatures of the earth; you do not owe them your soul.

So what are some things you can do, if you’re drowning in haterade?

Set boundaries.  Be polite, be decent, be all those things.  But say no.  You don’t owe anyone an explanation; that they might demand one doesn’t change that fact.  You are under no obligation to justify your dreams, anymore than your friend in IT is.  This is your life, and you are the only one who has to live it–and, too, the only one responsible if you never pursue your dreams.  You have to live with the knowledge of that disappointment, with the angst over what could have been.  Your friends (and family, and coworkers, and whatever random person you’re hitting up online) don’t.
Take responsibility.  Part of how you take responsibility for yourself is by taking responsibility for your surroundings.  You are in control of them.  That it might be hard to excise certain influences–drugs, alcohol, toxic friends, whatever–doesn’t mean it’s also impossible.  Surround yourself with encouraging influences: people, places and things.  People who, most of all, encourage you to be yourself and who appreciate you for who you actually are.  Not who are politely waiting for you to turn into someone else.  And if you have habits that are preventing you from fully committing to your goals–either because they’re too time consuming and distracting or because you dive into them as a means of escape, whenever anxiety strikes–ditch them.  I don’t care if it’s video games, organizing your shoe collection, or coffee.  We succeed at what we prioritize.
Get outside.  Bummed by online reviews?  Ignore them.  You have a life, and it’s not on Goodreads.  Yes, bad reviews can hurt your sales…but let me remind you how many people, to this day, can’t stop blathering about how much they hate Twilight .  There’s some truth to the notion that any publicity is good publicity.  And in any case, commercial success can neither create nor substitute for happiness.  Enjoying nature with your friends and family, meanwhile, can.  So get out there.

Okay, guys, that’s it for today’s tough love segment.  Did I forget anything?  Anything here you disagree with?  Let me know in the comments.

No Longer A Mentor

So lately, I’ve lost a little cache in the mentor department.

This was, perhaps, the inevitable result of my defending the Duggars of 19 Kids and Counting fame.  I wrote a post that crystallized my thoughts on the matter, as well as encapsulated the best of a few different debates in which I participated.  Wherein I pointed out that, among other things,

To which I respond, referring once again to the First Amendment, a right that protects only those with whom we agree is no right at all. Shutting people down for being “wrong” is the same tactic, regardless of the person or group being targeted. And attempting to teach tolerance by displaying none will never work–because it is hypocritical. “It’s wrong when they do it, but right when I do it, because they’re wrong and I’m right” isn’t a cogent argument, no matter who’s doing the arguing…I see a lot of people, who’ve suffered hate and discrimination their whole lives, talking about how much they “hate” the Duggars and asking for support, from like-minded people, for that hate. Which really saddens me. It shows how little perspective they’ve gained, on their own experience.  They aren’t advocating for tolerance; they’re expressing their desire to switch places, to be at the top of the heap telling other people how to live their lives.  “I want to be the dictator” is a materially different argument than “no dictator.”

And thus the die was cast.

Recognizing that the golden rule isn’t always easy and, in fact, often requires sacrifice is the cornerstone of maturity.  Once you can see beyond “what I believe” and “what I think is right” to a perhaps greater truth, independent of any one person’s opinion, you’re well on your way to growing up.  The problem of course is that when it comes to mentoring, there is by definition a gap.  Maybe of age, maybe of simply maturity.  But a gap nonetheless and a gap not always easily crossed except by real communication–the kind that requires the active involvement of both parties.  Which is where, as the older and supposedly wiser individual, you can leave others feeling let down.  Let down by your persistence in being simply human, with all that that entails, and by your refusal to–to their mind–appreciate their point of view.

Because, to so many people–again, especially the young ones–agreement signals support.  You show your support, goes the unspoken assumption, by sharing their views.  Ergo, supporting a clan like the Duggars–even if your support for them is only incidental, and stems from a broader interest in the golden rule–means not supporting a friend’s queer identity.  When, in actual fact, nothing could be further from the truth.

Treating others as we don’t want to be treated supports nobody.  And part of a mentor’s job–part of a good person’s job, especially living in this increasingly challenging society–is to stand up for what’s right.  And morality, unfortunately, isn’t always a popularity contest.  You make yourself decidedly unpopular, usually, telling people that it’s not okay to hate (anyone).  But while agreement might feel good, it cannot and should not be the priority.  Nor the goal.  The minute we stop critically examining our own beliefs, trading our conscience instead for self-congratulation, is the minute we lose the moral high ground.  To the extent that we ever had it in the first place.

Right is not moral.  One is an opinion; the other is a way of life.  Right does not, and cannot, excuse behavior that is thoughtless, narrow-minded, or unkind.  And right should not be sought, above wisdom.

This is, I believe, part of what people love so much about celebrities.  They can be worshipped from afar.  Their personalities can be imagined and, along with their personalities, their agreement.  There’s none of the troubling problems that come with knowing someone as a multi-dimensional human being.  With finding out that they don’t agree with you on every single thing and learning to see beyond that.

To, in short, learn from other people rather than use them as mirrors.

The advice I’ve always given my own family, as well as those I’ve coached is simple: never take advice from anyone you don’t want to be more like.  Although that begs the question: who do they want to be more like?  Who do I want to be more like?  Who do you want to be more like?  And, for the purposes of this discussion here–why?

Truly valuing a mentor relationship–any relationship–means seeing beyond agreement to purpose.  It’s easy to admire someone’s tolerance when you’re benefitting from it; a lot harder when that tolerance is directed at the other guy.  The value of agreement is both illusory and terribly, terribly seductive.  We often find ourselves swayed by people who exercise no real moral authority, because they tell us what they want to hear.  The truth is uncomfortable; a lie hardly ever is.  Because where the truth jolts, a lie pacifies.  Dulls.  Smooths down the urge to fight with the pap of you’re right, you’re perfect.

Nothing to see here, move along.

There’s a reason people take the blue pill.

Thoughts?