Wednesday Writing: Measuring Success
When I am racing in a triathlon, I often spend a lot of time sighting people who are just ahead of me, and then focusing energy on passing just that one person. But as soon as I've passed that person, it is as if they disappear. Behind me, I can no longer see them. Even if they are still close on my heels, unless they are close enough for me to hear, it doesn't matter. For all intents and purposes, they don't exist. Only the people ahead of me matter. And if I pass one person, there is always still someone else ahead of me.
On the one occasion this year when I was the lead woman in the race, I thought of the men I had come this close to passing. Or I thought of the women who *would* have beat me if they'd been in the race, and compared myself to them. Sometimes when I am talking to my daughters about their lives, I notice the same sense of blindness to what is behind them. One daughter (17) is into computers and math and wants to go to MIT. When she gets awards at her school, they don't matter to her at all because the only competition she sees is the competition of kids applying to MIT. 15 is into music and theater and for her, it's all about getting a professional talent agent and starting to sell albums on itunes.
The drive to continually improve is a healthy one for the most part. Reach exceeding our grasp and all that.
But there is a darker side to this, and it can make anyone crazy. In the writing world, as sales numbers become more available (though what those numbers actually mean is debatable) through amazon or other outlets, it can feel more and more like a triathlon race in which the author is literally trying to pas up the next author on the list. Book covers tout such things as "New York Times Best-selling author" or "Newbery/Printz award winning author" whenever possible, either in the case of the author or a blurb. Any published author can go crazy trying to measure success based on external factors like awards or sales. Or amazon star numbers. Or goodreads buzz. Or number of blurbs. Or on and on.
In the end, I have to remind myself that the external markers of success aren't real. Remember the scene in Notting Hill where Julia Roberts tells Hugh Grant that the life of a movie star isn't "real"? Well, the same goes for hype about books. It can help when my agent reminds me that numbers of books printed is often exaggerated for media effect, that big deals that are reported are often including multiple books and movie deals and on and on, that even the New York Times rankings can be manipulated. It can help when I heard about how the awards system really works from those who are inside. Not that they are rigged in any way, but that there is a good deal of compromising going on and the winners are based on luck and confluence of circumstance as well as on good writing.
In writing, as in racing, the "real" success can only be determined by the person who is in the race, by the person who is writing the book. I can't control who shows up to any race I sign up for. Sometimes a bunch of professionals will show up and the best race of my life (which happened this year) left me in 14th place, far out of the top 10 that I have come to expect. Other times, by fluke, I will end up on the podium because for whatever reason no one who was better showed up at that race. That's why, in the end, those sorts of rankings end up being "not real."
For me, I have to measure myself against myself. On the same course, did I do better this year than last? Then I've succeeded. Were the conditions different? How did I react to worse heat? How did I deal with a crash or a mechanical problem? To me, that is the "real" race. And as a writer, I can only measure my success against my own sense of good writing. Was I trying to do something different? Did I succeed at that? I think the success has to be measured before the book is published and not afterward. It can be hard to hold onto that sense of success, but it's important. Because otherwise, you will be caught in the fake world where other people control your success. Sure, it may feel good for a while. But it doesn't last.
Fake doesn't last. Real does.
On the one occasion this year when I was the lead woman in the race, I thought of the men I had come this close to passing. Or I thought of the women who *would* have beat me if they'd been in the race, and compared myself to them. Sometimes when I am talking to my daughters about their lives, I notice the same sense of blindness to what is behind them. One daughter (17) is into computers and math and wants to go to MIT. When she gets awards at her school, they don't matter to her at all because the only competition she sees is the competition of kids applying to MIT. 15 is into music and theater and for her, it's all about getting a professional talent agent and starting to sell albums on itunes.
The drive to continually improve is a healthy one for the most part. Reach exceeding our grasp and all that.
But there is a darker side to this, and it can make anyone crazy. In the writing world, as sales numbers become more available (though what those numbers actually mean is debatable) through amazon or other outlets, it can feel more and more like a triathlon race in which the author is literally trying to pas up the next author on the list. Book covers tout such things as "New York Times Best-selling author" or "Newbery/Printz award winning author" whenever possible, either in the case of the author or a blurb. Any published author can go crazy trying to measure success based on external factors like awards or sales. Or amazon star numbers. Or goodreads buzz. Or number of blurbs. Or on and on.
In the end, I have to remind myself that the external markers of success aren't real. Remember the scene in Notting Hill where Julia Roberts tells Hugh Grant that the life of a movie star isn't "real"? Well, the same goes for hype about books. It can help when my agent reminds me that numbers of books printed is often exaggerated for media effect, that big deals that are reported are often including multiple books and movie deals and on and on, that even the New York Times rankings can be manipulated. It can help when I heard about how the awards system really works from those who are inside. Not that they are rigged in any way, but that there is a good deal of compromising going on and the winners are based on luck and confluence of circumstance as well as on good writing.
In writing, as in racing, the "real" success can only be determined by the person who is in the race, by the person who is writing the book. I can't control who shows up to any race I sign up for. Sometimes a bunch of professionals will show up and the best race of my life (which happened this year) left me in 14th place, far out of the top 10 that I have come to expect. Other times, by fluke, I will end up on the podium because for whatever reason no one who was better showed up at that race. That's why, in the end, those sorts of rankings end up being "not real."
For me, I have to measure myself against myself. On the same course, did I do better this year than last? Then I've succeeded. Were the conditions different? How did I react to worse heat? How did I deal with a crash or a mechanical problem? To me, that is the "real" race. And as a writer, I can only measure my success against my own sense of good writing. Was I trying to do something different? Did I succeed at that? I think the success has to be measured before the book is published and not afterward. It can be hard to hold onto that sense of success, but it's important. Because otherwise, you will be caught in the fake world where other people control your success. Sure, it may feel good for a while. But it doesn't last.
Fake doesn't last. Real does.
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