Failing to live up to expectations at break-neck speed
Somebody said to me the other day, “You’ll be well-known one day, I can tell.” A few days before that, someone else asked me to describe how I’ve come to be the successful writer I am today. Even before that, someone else told me that they were surprised by how much I’ve accomplished at such a young age.
I want to be a nice, normal person and accept these compliments graciously, but I’m not a nice, normal person. I’m me. And because I’m me, all of these statements make me feel weird. Not in a fun, weird-in-my-pants kind of way, just weird.
I hate that kind of weird.
I don’t think I’m successful. I don’t think I’m accomplished. I wouldn’t know what to do with myself if I actually was, or how to tell, either. (Do you just wake up one day and feel successful? Do you get a special button for acquiring a certain sense of accomplishment?) I don’t think anybody is actually reading anything I’m writing, or would pay good money to read it in the future. There will be no three-book deal. There will be no auctioning off of movie rights. I will never be the bestselling author of anything. I will never be in a position to live comfortably off my writing. I will always be chained to a day job and scraping pennies together to survive.
Why? Because I’m not lucky, marketable or willing to compromise. I do what I set out to do, in my own way, in my own time, and that’s it. People like that very rarely get anywhere, and if they do, it’s because of dumb luck just as much as anything else. For every Kurt Vonnegut or William S. Burroughs, there’s one-hundred shit-awful writers who whore themselves for dollar bills. And I accept that. Same way I always smile and nod, and thank people for the compliments.
But if I wanted to make money, I would have gone to school to be a dentist. Instead I taught myself how to write, because I couldn’t think of anything better to do. If I get somewhere along the way, I’ll let you know.
Imagine me as obnoxious blogger M. Dominic and not Melissa, sounds good, right? Right. Okay.
In a way, you’re successful because you don’t compromise. I wonder if it’s something people can sense. You’re happy with your writing. That’s success, because, so many people write a bunch of things that don’t inspire them, don’t make them happy, just to get places. A lot of people can’t accept they’re them and do what they love.
So, I think you’re successful, because you made it this far, haven’t gotten yourself killed and you’ve written a bunch of stuff that makes YOU happy on whatever level you want to be happy on.
And no, you’ll never feel it. I think that’s just how it works.
Stop being so encouraging and optimistic all the time. Jesus. Everybody already knows you’re the better person in this relationship….
Oh, you. You only say these things because they make me rage. :3
Not that my opinion means anything, but I just wanted to let you know – I adore you and respect you as a writer. I feel like you are well on you’re way to being successful. (Whatever “successful” means. I’m not entirely sure, seeing as I guess it means different things to different people.) But just based on my wacky (psychic-like but totally not psychic) intuition, I feel like grander things are in store for you.
Oh. And this is a totally random, but slightly related(?) story: I was actually just daydreaming a little bit ago, before I read this blog entry of yours. And you were a part of the daydream. I had an idea for a novel. (Mind you, I’ve never even a short story, really, let alone an entire novel. I just often daydream about writing a novel one day.) Anyway, I thought to myself, if I can ever get past my laziness & scatter-brained tendencies and actually write a novel someday, I would send it to you to get your opinion/approval/critique/whatever.
My point is just that, like I said, I really respect you as a writer and I think you’re amazingly talented. Also, I agree with everything Miss Dominic said above : )
And may I mention? You and Melissa are the most perfect couple ever. And if you two ever get married, canIcometotheweddingplease?!
Ok. Sorry for all of my babbling and I apologise in advance if anything I said made you feel weird in the weird way that you hate ; )
If you write something, I would be more than glad to look it over for you, Jolene. No questions asked. And it’s okay, I always feel weird. It’s part of my charm — or something.