Everyone knows that part of being an adult is the art of compromise. That there’s no “I” in “team.” Great things happen when we all work together. After all, they teach us that stuff in kindergarten–pick up, pick up, everybody do your share–and it’s reinforced throughout our lives. “Take one for the team” and all that.
But there’s another part of growing up that we don’t often hear about. The art of not being a rug. To me, it’s a harder lesson to learn. At work, in our friendships, no one wants to be the high-maintenance person. No one wants to be the selfish one. We can’t all agree on everything–there has to be give and take. The needs of the many outweigh the needs of the few. Or the one.
Teamwork is a most excellent thing. The problem, as I see it, comes when a person can’t figure out where the line should be. Setting boundaries can be tricky, especially if you’ve never been allowed to do it before.
In His Faithful Squire (due out August 1st; buy early and often!), my character Rafe Ballard is a people-pleaser. He takes it to extremes; for him it’s a survival skill. Pleasure slaves who don’t please don’t last very long, so Rafe has learned all the lessons.
Smile. Praise. Surrender.
Rafe isn’t a joy-boy anymore, but like many things people do to sabotage ourselves, his habits are unconscious. Rafe may remind himself to smile, but he’s not thinking the “or I might get beaten” part.
Though I didn’t suffer the lessons Rafe did, I’m a people-pleaser too. Most of us are taught from childhood that it’s wrong to be selfish ever. That we must be polite in all circumstances (I’d like to see this one sticking a little better in much of society, but that doesn’t change the fact that sometimes we take polite too far and yield when we really shouldn’t.) These lessons are reinforced when we look around and see a fatal accident caused by someone who didn’t want to yield the right-of-way even though the light was against him. Or a terrible law passed because a bunch of politicians voted with their wallets and not their conscience. A thoughtful look around will show us–it’s much better for everyone when we just try to think of the other guy.
As with so many things, though, moderation is the key. Compromise doesn’t mean being a carpet. In traffic, it’s best to yield so everyone can get home safely. In life, it’s less clear. Giving up everything so the other guy can have everything is not a compromise, and the odds are it’s not a good thing for either side. Just because someone wants something doesn’t mean they should have it.
In His Faithful Squire, Rafe just wants to be with his beloved Taro. He’s been happy living on the Pendragon’s Dream with Taro’s family, but Taro wants to take on the galaxy and Rafe will follow him anywhere. He doesn’t mind–he’s in love. Taro is his whole world and Rafe likes it that way. What could be wrong with that?
When (naturally) Taro gets in trouble far from family assistance, Rafe wants to help. With a man like Taro, though, helping isn’t a simple matter. Taro is all about forward motion, and getting him to change direction, even for his own good, is as easy as redirecting an avalanche. It’s certainly not going to happen without conflict.
How can Rafe fight with–and risk losing–the most important person in his world? How can he even be sure he’s right? He’s a former joy-boy, painfully aware that even now he’s not much more than a pretty face. How can he argue with the so-competent Taro, trained in everything from martial arts to piloting to engineering?
How can he not, and watch Taro charge on to disaster when he could have stopped it?
Sometimes, standing up for yourself is the best thing you can do for all concerned. Or so Rafe hopes.
I hope you enjoy Rafe’s story. It’s one that is very close to my heart. (His Faithful Squire, due out August 1st! Buy early and often!)