Something’s been bothering me. There’s all this talk lately that’s supposed to be inspiring. It generally is coming from people who have made it and can look back in hindsight and say don’t give up. It can get better.
It’s been a common thing in the writing world, success stories, right? I went to a Bible study last week that talked about God is in control no matter what, and I loved it, until the discussion where it was everyone sharing that same success story pitch, how life was so hard but in hindsight I see how God took care of it.
I don’t, as a rule, have a problem with success stories. I mean, even something less achievement-based, like telling someone Mr. Right is out there bothers me.
What if he’s not? What if you are never going to look back and see how God fixed this, you aren’t going to feel he is in control? What if you keep working and you never, ever get published?
That’s why I hate success stories. They’re from people who are no longer in the situation, so they’re, well, kind of meaningless, because there is no guarantee that things will work out for me the way they did for them.
(I MUST say here, though, that God IS still in control, and this is precisely the time you need to believe it most - when you can’t see it. Sort of the ultimate definition of faith, now isn’t it?)
But the writing thing, or the marriage thing, Those are concrete so let’s go with those.
Hope is beautiful. I’m a hopeful person. Hope is what we have when we have no guarantees, no promises, not even a hint that what we’re doing is the right thing, or will ‘pay off’. (As Rachelle Gardner says, what that phrase means is a whole other post.)
So you can tell me how things worked out for you, and that can inspire and fuel my hope…. but I guess what bothers me is that often we allow that to keep us from accepting reality, that it might never happen. Because if it happened to you, it could happen to me.
But can it? Sometimes. Sometimes not.
I think I’m bothered because that’s all it does, offers a somewhat false sense of hope. Hope can’t come from the outside. We have to believe, ourselves, that we are good enough to get the agent, not oh if it worked out for you it might work out for me. Hope doesn’t work like that. It can’t, or it’s false, it’s getting your hopes up.
Because when you tack on the outcome of the story - the resolution that things work out - you negate the help you can give, because you’ve lose the fear of the uncertainty we’re still living in. I don’t identify with you anymore. Because I’m still in the darkness, and I might not get out. You can’t reassure me because you did. That’s not helpful.
Sometimes it can even be harmful, like when I see that, and recognize that it might not happen. That’s an easy way to start a depression. You mean well, to be encouraging, but face it, at the heart, these sorts of stories set up comparisons. You did it, so if I don’t, something’s wrong with me.
I’m not saying stop sharing success stories. But maybe focus on what you went through, on remembering it, than trying to provide the “this could be you” object lesson. Because it isn’t any lesson. Your “don’t give up” is my “that worked for you.”
Yet, of course, if I give up, I’ll never know, now will I?
This is why I stopped writing ’smart’ posts. I don’t know what I’m saying, just trying to explore thoughts. Have any on this idea?
I love this post. LOVE.
I have a very complicated reaction to “success” as a concept. I’ve had an agent for a week now. I signed and handed in my contract. I’m represented. I feel proud of that accomplishment, that success, but… I’m not published. My books aren’t on a shelf. No one other than a small fraction of the Twitterverse/blogging community even has a clue of who I am. None of that will change unless this success is followed by another. And another.
As writers, we get the privilege of looking forward to a career of constant rejection and constant pushes for the next big thing, the next big success. Even if you write a best-selling book, it could be followed with a flop, or you could lose your contract, or so many other disasters. One success never guarantees another. One good thing doesn’t mean a wellspring of good things will start flowing. It takes a conscious effort every day to look at the future with optimism and hope and belief that every day, every year, can bring better things, more and continued success.
My family look at me: a “full-time writer” (read: willingly unemployed) and they think that I will be a success when I get paid. Yes, I have an agent, but my writing hasn’t paid the utility bill, hasn’t bought me groceries. I will be a “success” to them when my writing proves that this isn’t just some idle thing I do, it’s also a job.
My husband believes I am a success no matter how much I achieve. He thinks I am wonderful and brilliant even when I am full of self-doubt and depression.
I’ve always been uncomfortable with hearing of other people’s success. On the one hand, when one of my friends — or a perfect stranger — does something marvelous, I am happy for them. But that always forces me to look at myself, at the state of my life and accomplishments, and compare. Analyze. Doubt. Worry. It’s so easy, when one is surrounded by others’ success, to spiral cynically downward.
I guess, for me, when I hear of someone’s success, it forces me to push. To better myself, to prove that I can do what I’ve dreamt of. That just because someone else has found success, that doesn’t preclude me from finding it too.
Maybe it’s because I’m too stubborn to let someone else stop me from doing what I know I’m going to do.
Success has always been uncomfortable for me because it’s hard for me to ride the moment. I did well on the SATs, okay, but that doesn’t guarantee I’ll get into a good college. I got into a good college, okay, but that doesn’t mean I’ll do well in school. I did well in school, okay, but that doesn’t mean I’ll get a good job. My husband says I am too hard on myself. Maybe I am. Maybe I have to be to stay sane. If I sit back and let the success wash over me and think the hard part is over, I worry that I’ll lose that success and I’ll be back at square one.
…
This has gotten very rambly. Ah! Such a comment! Sounds like a blog post in its own right! I’m so sorry, Jessica!
I guess my bottom line is everything is relative. I’m going to write, regardless of whether or not I’m met with more success. This success is good, true, but it doesn’t guarantee the next. Nothing can guarantee the next success. But I will never stop working and hoping that there is another success around the corner.
Thanks so much for your comment. I don’t mind the ramble. Ramble on. (*air guitar riffs*)
And I totally agree with you.
I think you sum it up nicely: it doesn’t matter if we succeed or not, why are these ’success stories’ bent on that end result? Why don’t they ever focus on the writing as the success? That we are doing something we love, and that’s not dependent on anyone else for the outcome. We write or we don’t.
You’ve made me realize what really bothers me! Our definitions of success are wrong.
I’m always more impressed by the writers who are positive without an agent or a book deal, who see the good things about whatever stage they’re at.
Also, this reminds me of a talk I once heard. The talk was about dealing with adversity and being positive even when life knocks you down. The woman was speaking specifically about when her husband was diagnosed with cancer, and it was a beautiful, inspiring speech. But what made it even more inspiring was when I found out at the end that her husband had died. This wasn’t some hang-in-there-and-wait-for-God-to-give-you-what-you-want talks. It was an accept-God’s-will-and-still-be-faithful-through-the-hard-parts talk. And it was encouraging.
There’s a survival bias — you only hear about the success stories from people who’ve succeeded, because not a lot of people want to hear about the people who didn’t succeed.
It’s easy to say “Don’t give up!” to someone else when you’ve already made it. But you have to think that before those people made it, they went through the same doubts we all have.
More so, think about how many times you hear of a writer saying “This was going to be my last attempt, if it didn’t work, I was going to go back to school/get a job”. Then you hear about that writer succeeding. But think about how many writers took that last ditch effort and it didn’t work out? You don’t hear from them.
It’s a sobering thought, but regardless, someone else’s success has minimal impact on your own.
What I find more inspiring is people whose situations are NOT resolved, still keep pushing through, and tell you not to give up.
Like a dear friend of ours whose marriage is in trouble: she’ll drop all thoughts about her situation and jump to encourage anyone to stick with it and not give up.
Like my brother who nearly died in an accident this last Easter Sunday. The young man who caused it called us every day after M came home from the hospital. When M finally was able to talk to the kid, the kid thought he was going to get an “I’ll hate you forever!” thing. But my brother just started talking about God’s grace, how he fully forgives the kid, and that the Lord doesn’t give us trials we can’t overcome. M still can’t taste or smell because of the head trauma, and he had to find a new job because of it.
You know, even if I never get published, I’ve learned things from writing. It’s opened many doors for me. Heh, I know YOU because I started writing.
One last quick(ish) note: I remember once when a few success stories were invaluable to me. When Mom was diagnosed with cancer, the only people I’d ever known with cancer were horrifically ill for years, and then they died. I thought that would happen to Mom. I had no idea people could survive it. But then some BtNers wrote me about their moms/aunts/sisters/etc. who had been diagnosed with cancer and were totally fine a year later. Which Mom was! Maybe that gave me false hope at the time, but it stopped me from believing that Mom was about to die.
Okay, that’s all for now.