Expectations

“Our deepest fear is not that we are inadequate. Our deepest fear is that we are powerful beyond measure. It is our light, not our darkness, that frightens us most. We ask ourselves, 'Who am I to be brilliant, gorgeous, talented, and famous?' Actually, who are you not to be? You are a child of God. Your playing small does not serve the world. There is nothing enlightened about shrinking so that people won't feel insecure around you. We were born to make manifest the glory of God that is within us. It's not just in some of us; it's in all of us. And when we let our own light shine, we unconsciously give other people permission to do the same. As we are liberated from our own fear, our presence automatically liberates others.” -Marianne Williamson

In one of the Stained books - Chosen, I think - Julia mentions how foster kids are self-trained never to get their hopes up, lest they be let down. For a long time, I was with Julia on that. Really I still am.

I don't like getting my hopes up. I'm pretty good at not being a pessimist, either. I just try to keep my expectations modest. I walk a thin, wobbly line: While I project positivity, I don't actually let myself envision what would happen if my best-case scenario played out. What's the point?

It's like watching travel shows. My husband loves them, but unless I'm in exactly the right mood, they just seem pointless to me. If I can't go to Paris, why watch it on TV? It's almost painful. Like watching someone eat chocolate when you're on a diet. Sure, I might go to Paris someday, but until I have my ticket, I'd rather not watch other people walking around Paris. What's the point?

The other day I was talking to a book blogger friend who is also a writer. She's working on a novel she likes, one she hopes will snare her an agent. She's not originally from the United States. I asked her if she thought she'd ever move back to the country where she was born, and she told me she hoped to be successful enough as a writer to live in both countries one day.

I was surprised. Surprised because she isn't published yet. Surprised because she had the confidence to tell me that she has that kind of ambition. Impressed because clearly, she has already reserved her ticket to Paris, even though she may not have the money to pay for it yet.

It made me realize that I need to be more positive. And it made me sad that, somewhere along the way, I decided to hide the light of my own ambition. To stop watching travel channel shows. To pretend, like I did for a while, like I'm chill and low key, like I don't really care what happens with my writing. For a long time, I've been too ambitious to be pessimistic, but too faithless to be optimistic.

Now I find myself in the strange position of greeting successes I never actually expected to see. It's like visiting France without learning French. I can barely navigate the amazing landscape of my own life. I see that my books are selling, and I'm not sure what to think.

I find myself wondering if the people buying my books are crazy. Am I somehow fooling them? I've talked to a lot of them. They seem normal. Pretty awesome, even. I must be fooling them. But they've read the books... Is Amazon doing well? What if I wake up tomorrow and it's not there anymore. What if the Internet fails? Isn't it connected with some strange under-the-sea cables? What if a mermaid war breaks out and they are somehow severed?

But none of those questions scares me as much as this one: What if mermaid peace prevails, and the internet is fine? What if my books keep selling? Then what? What do I do with that?

So I wonder... What made me so afraid of projecting positive outcomes for my writing? Life. That's part of the answer. Making it to a point where people are buying my books - that's been hard for me. For years, I was the almost-agented wonder. It's a really good book, BUT... So I had to learn to keep my expectations level. For a few years, getting excited was too costly. I paid for it with tears. And tears. And more tears. I had an offer withdrawn one time, because an agent had a surprising death in the family. I had an agent interested, an agent who liked my writing, but who signed too many other authors while I worked on revisions.

I know none of that is unusual. So many writers have the same story. My point here is that I let those painful almost-successes not only shut down my optimism, but also veil my ambition.

Who was I to be ambitious? I didn't have anything to show for my work. When I mentioned my goal of making a living as a fiction writer to family and friends, they would get that pitying look on their faces - the one that told me they didn't think I could actually do this. They would nod and smile and say, "That's right. You keep writing." Like there was ever a chance that I wouldn't. They didn't know how wrong they were - that I didn't need their pity or their concern (when will she give this up and get a real plan?) because I was GOING to make it.

I didn't feel like I had a right to be openly ambitious. I got tired of people smiling politely. I buried my ambition, but I kept working. I didn't think about it. Where it might lead. I didn't ever, ever, ever allow myself to, even for a second, think about success. Success was for someone else. Hard work was for me.

So I worked hard, and suddenly I am selling books. And it's weird. But it really shouldn't be. Success happens for people who work hard. Most of the time. Maybe even all the time, in its way. It might not be the exact success you want, but if you work hard, you will find success somewhere.

I never wanted to be an ebook author. I didn't even know what Kindle was until last May. I wanted an agent. A New York City agent. That's all I thought I wanted. Now? I wouldn't trade my life for ten agents. Which is not to say that agents are not wonderful, but rather that I'm deeply grateful for my life right now, and I feel blessed that what started as a tumultuous year because of some health issues with my son has turned into an awesome year. The best. My son turned one today. He is happy and healthy. My books are selling.

It shouldn't be a surprise. It wouldn't be, if I'd had the faith my blogger/writer friend has. And I should have. Someone as ambitious as I am should have had the nerve to be open about it. To be confident about it. To hell with what anyone else says.

Something to remember if you're an aspiring author: The people around you have to have optimism in order to extend it to you and your writing career. Most people aren't optimists.

Most people aren't ambitious, either. They don't have the nerve. If they feel it, they don't think they have the right. But if you're working hard, if you want it badly enough, why not have fun with it? Why not watch the travel channel?