My writer-friend SM Reine recently blogged about her definition of success. And I thought I’d weigh in.
I used to think that unless I had an agent and a publication contract in hand (especially with that large advance), I was a failure. I was doomed to remain unpublished and unknown, toiling away in my office, my work never seeing the light of day. I was terrified that I’d die before my work ever became known, and my existence on this Earth nothing more than a blip of…nothing.
Why yes, I was quite morbid and depressing (it’s a gift).
But you know what?
God, I was SO friggin wrong. And all those high expectations nearly put me in the grave for real. Because unless I became the next J.K. Rowling, it wasn’t likely that I’d get that big advance and everything that went with it. How could I, one mere human being, ever rise to that level? Not likely. So, so stupid.
And then I tried to get a novel of mine ready for agents. The novel I couldn’t let go. It was going to be discovered, it just had to make the rounds. Needless to say, things didn’t work out and that novel is now tucked in a corner of my hard drive awaiting much-needed edits. (And that’s perfectly okay. I’ve made my peace with that). Anyhoo, I decided to self-publish and everything changed.
I discovered that I could essentially bypass the crazy agent shuffle and put my work out directly to my readers. I could control the cover art, the formatting (which is really hard to do), the publication dates (read: deadlines). I could control every aspect of it and yeah, while it’s really hard work (and truly? It doesn’t end after the book’s been revised, or when you’re formatting it, or even after you hit the publish button. It’s a process), it’s also nice to know that wow, I have control. I don’t need an agent to validate me as a writer, or to swoon about my wonderful prose. Or to tell me I rock the unique premise. Or to say I’m talented.
I know I’m talented. I’m not the best writer on the planet (or any other for that matter!), but hey, I can string words together in an engaging manner and can weave a damn-good plot. I’ve been complimented on my characters and worldbuilding. So…I know this. The minute I had this revelation (and it was a Big Moment for me), it didn’t matter if an agent loved my book or not. It didn’t matter that I will get negative reviews (fact of life there) or that my sales won’t go through the roof and enable me to walk away from my soul-sucking day job (as was my Grand Plan at first…).
None of it matters.
What matters? That my writing will be out there for people to read. For them to love or hate, for them to stay up waaaay too late because he or she needed to finish one more chapter, for people to blow off the roof with negative reviews (bring it on!), for me to be giddy-ecstatic-happy in one moment, and terrified-want to hide-scared shitless the next. It’s all part of the process.
But I’ve done it. I have my first book releasing August 1st. It was, from start to finish, about eight solid months of work. It’s most possibly the fastest I’ve ever written and revised a book in my life. I think it’s one of my best. I’m damn proud of it. And it’s mine. All mine.
And people years from now can say, “wow. I read this awesome book by Erin Zarro. You ought to read it. It’s amazing.”
And that, my friends, is my definition of success. Believing in something so strongly that nothing can stop you from making it happen. Something that’s your whole life, your being, your very heartbeat. And then having the courage to put it out there for the world to see. And then owning it.
Turning a dream into perfect reality.
That’s success.