Writing, part 4: The recipe for success

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"Finally!" you're saying. "She's going to tell me how to get my book published!"

Well . . . sort of.

Since I hate having to read an entire blog, magazine article, or book to get to the point of the tantalizing title, I'll cut to the chase. The recipe for success, whether you're writing a book or pursuing any other endeavor that's important to you, has one ingredient: perspective.

There. Now you can finish writing your novel, content in the knowledge that success is right around the corner.

For those of you who don't mind reading further for a little elaboration, I'll use my own experience as an example of what I'm talking about.

First, a question: How do you define success?

Most people will name the usual components: money, fame/recognition/accolades, and, somewhere down the list, a feeling of accomplishment: You finally did what you were promising and/or threatening to do for ages. "There–I wrote the book!" But that probably comes far after the money and accolades.

This fit my definition of success, for sure. Other, wiser people had to remind me repeatedly that just writing my book was enough. Certainly high on the success definition list was making my mother proud; she'd been asking me for years to write our family's story, and I'd finally done it. But I have to admit this: more important was the fact that a major publisher wanted the book.

Cherries in Winter was published, and my definition of success began to change. While I didn't have to fret over what to wear on Oprah or the Today Show, neither having asked me to stop by for an in-depth interview, I began to get letters from readers. I'm not exaggerating when I say that these letters made me weep; people were telling me their stories, how they identified with my family's story, how the book got them through difficult times, how they wanted to share it with their mothers and grandmothers. Suddenly, my definition of success was drastically redefined. I remembered why I'd written the book in the first place–to help people who were struggling and remind them of the strength they had in them. Many times over, I was told that the mission had been accomplished. My definition of success was drastically redefined during this humbling, amazing experience, and for the better.

The trying times I wrote about in Cherries in Winter are still with us, and as a writer, I see it most in publishing. Staffs have been slashed; there are fewer editors reading books. Advances have been cut way down. Publishers are less willing to take chances than they used to be because it costs so much to print a book.

This is all great news for authors. Why? Because we can redefine what success means to us, often to the better. Best example: a 1,200-page book about bondage (not the spiritual kind) put out by a publisher no one's ever heard of. Doesn't sound like the recipe for success, does it?

Well, that book is Fifty Shades of Grey, a word-of-mouth blockbuster that was highlighted on the Today Show yesterday. I'm betting sales went through the roof after that segment, and that author EL James was initially just happy she'd written the book.

Got lemons? Make lemonade. Got a book? Sure, take the traditional route. Look up the agents for your favorite authors. Find their websites, which will have their submissions requirements. Follow those to the letter. Follow up after the recommended amount of time (usually six weeks). Rejoice over acceptance, and accept rejection gracefully.

If the latter happens more often, submit that novel or nonfiction work to lesser-known publishers, which may have more passion than cash–but who's to say which more closely matches your redefinition of success? And who am I to say you even need a publisher? iBooks Author can make you a published author in less than an hour.

Of all the things you write, none will be more important than your definition of success. And as you can see, there are more than 50 shades of that.

xx,

S

[Special thanks to Christina Kelly of Fallen Princess fame for telling me that her husband wasn't a glass-half-full kind of guy; "He's happy just to have a glass."]