The definition of success
KindleA workshop I attended…
Author Unknown tells Supercool Author:
You’ve been my idol. You did everything I wanted to do. Tell me…how can I avoid making the mistakes you made…your career just tanked.
At this, I just kinda gaped.
Because Supercool Author has the kind of career that makes me starry-eyed. A movie made after her books. She’s mega cool. Yeah, yeah, sometimes we perceive things to be bigger or different than they are, but she’s still an author I’d call a success.
Author unknown has set the bar for success at hitting a list.
I haven’t hit a list yet. I’m wondering…will I?
I’ve been doing this for a while now. I see shit that happens behind those names.
I’ve known authors who put on a happy, smiling face while secretly they have families who don’t support them. They have husbands who try to force them to walk away from a career they wanted. They have significant others who do not care about the things that make them happy.
They hit lists…. and ten years later, you see their books in the remainder bin at the dollar store and are they still writing?
I see authors in dollar store bin all the time…USA TODAY BESTSELLER…and the names ring nothing on my mental scale.
I see MEGA BESTSELLING AUTHORS who treat their readers like shit and walk all over the people who helped them get where they are. Because nobody does it alone.
Does all of that add up to success? How successful are you if you’re full of spite? How successful are you if you have nobody to truly share it with at the end of the day?
This author who supposedly tanked? She’s funny. She’s sweet. She’s genuine and kind. She’s happily married and she’s got kids she loves. And she’s able to pursue a career she loves with the support of her family. Regarding her career, people know her name. She has readers who know her and love her and support her.
That is success.
I was talking to my husband about all of this the other night, and damn it, I want that list thing. So bad. I want it so bad I can taste it, and I’m not giving it up.
But… I have a guy who tells me this, in a matter of fact way.
You’re doing what you want. It’s all you ever wanted to do with your life and you’re doing it.
I’m married to my high school sweetheart.
We have three beautiful kids.
I have a family who loves me. A husband who supports me. He doesn’t see my writing as a hobby and he doesn’t mock it, make light of it…and when it did get big for me? He didn’t try to take from me or make it seem like it was something he’d done for me. It’s mine…I worked for it and he’s happy for me and he’s proud of me. He’s there for me and he supports me and it’s the most amazing gift. I pity women who don’t have that. I’ve got three kids who think it’s pretty damn cool to have a mom who tells stories for a living.
And I’m a storyteller. That’s all I ever wanted to be when I grew up…a storyteller.
I’ll define what is my own vision is.
Am I successful?
Damn straight.
