I went to a writing/publishing/marketing class the other day, and it was—shall we say—a very *interesting* experience. The man teaching the class has written a lot of books, has worked in the publishing industry, and teaches many a class on the art—and he might be a sociopath.
So, there I am, eager to learn what I can do to help my novel (coming out on June 9!) be successful, and he starts talking about how he counseled a student in one his classes to make up a bogus story for the origin of her book in order to help sell it. “Tell people that it came to you in a dream. People love that stuff.” And she did.
He also told the class that, in order to make a lot of money in writing, you need to write for the general public—make sure you have a male lead, more people are likely to read books with male leads, etc. Anyway, I started tuning out part way through.
Let me tell ya, my writing process is WAY different. For example, characters come to me, tell me their stories, and I write them down—whatever gender they may be! I am not prejudice.
My book was born out of my deep depression. And boy, you can sure tell when you read it! (Although I did dream up the name Lipstick Rick. It’s the only part of the dream I remember—some guy said, “Nothing like a night out with Lipstick Rick!” But now no one will believe me). Which leads me to the next apparent problem with my book. My book was NOT written for a general audience. In fact, when I explained the plot to a girl in that class, she gave me a wary look and said, “Yeah... that’s not my genre... I hope your book sells!” And I said, “Me too!” But even if it doesn’t, I wrote it because I *had* to! It was screaming at me from inside my soul. It had to be made real! If I didn’t write it, I knew some part of me would die.
I keep thinking of my favorite quote from Stephen King: “You don’t do it for the money; you do it because it saves you from feeling bad. A man or woman able to turn his or her back on that is just a monkey.” My advice: don’t be a monkey. Write something that your soul can shine through. Write something you believe in. Write something you’re proud of, even if no one else gets it. That’s happiness.
I made it to the Provo City Center Temple yesterday! This temple feels like home to me, and looks like something out of a fairytale.
You know… I don’t know if anybody else does this, but… I’m very good at viciously beating myself up over things. At this acquired skill, I am the *master.* Every flaw, every shortcoming—trust me, I am well aware of them *all.* But while I was there, in that beautiful fortress, this wave of perfect love filled my heart, and with perfect mildness and kindness, this feeling came to my mind, “Stop this. It doesn’t do any good.” I got this image in my head of a tiny wound on my arm—representing some small mistake I make—and then, when I beat myself up, it’s like taking a razor and cutting that tiny wound repeatedly until it becomes massive. And it really hit me—this *doesn’t* do any good! It doesn’t heal anything. Rather, it’s crippling. It makes me want to give up. It makes everything worse. It would be far better to simply take a deep, calming breath and, with words of encouragement, press forward.
I think it sometimes gets drilled into our heads that we are not allowed to make mistakes, which makes us either narcissistic (where we can never admit mistakes or apologize) or viciously mean to ourselves (or both). Either way, we become frozen in time, unable to progress or sufficiently make things right.
But, we simply are not perfect. We *can’t* be. I am not perfect. Oh man—I... *maniacal laugh* I am soooo far from perfect.
But you know what? That’s perfectly okay. Because I am sincerely, with all of my heart—no matter what it looks like to anyone from the outside—doing the best I can. I really am. And I look at what my best is today, and I know that, as long as I keep chasing my best, I’m guaranteed to grow and get better. Collapsing in on myself over mistakes isn’t going to get me to where I want to be. But making things right, being forgiving, letting wounds heal, learning and growing—*that* is what will get me to where I want to be.
We can’t grow when we keep cutting ourselves down. Look at what your best is today, and forgive the rest. Keep doing your best each day, and you’ll grow!
Whatever your best is, it is enough.
