Random late night thoughts

21. October 2011 · 3 comments · Categories: Bringing Stella Home, Novels · Tags: , , , , , , , , , , ,

I’ve been going on a lot of late night walks lately, just wandering restlessly around Provo.  Tonight I had some interesting thoughts about how much I’ve changed in the last year.  Surprisingly, I’ve grown a lot.

Last  year at this time, I was all geared up for World Fantasy Convention.  I had just finished Bringing Stella Home, and I my thoughts went something like this: “if I’m lucky, maybe I’ll find an agent, and they’ll like my pitch enough to see it, and after they read it they’ll want to represent me, and then they’ll sell my book somewhere, so that maybe, just maybe, I can make a living as a writer in ten years.”

Now, I don’t want to get into the whole indie vs. traditional debate, because I think it’s ultimately a false dichotomy.  However, now that I’ve gone ahead and published my own work independently, I feel like I’ve taken charge of my career in a way that I hadn’t before.  I’m no longer waiting on someone else to make my hopes and dreams come true, I’m going out and pursuing them myself.

That’s the big thing that I think has changed in the past year: I’ve gained a lot more confidence.  A year ago today, I was working a temp job in a costume company warehouse, fretting and worrying over how to make ends meet and where to find a stable job.  I had considered freelancing as a translator and teaching English in another country, but hadn’t actively pursued those options because frankly they terrified me.  And as for writing, that was the impossible dream that might come true someday, but not today.

Now, writing is still the impossible dream, but at least I’m on a path that doesn’t involve lottery thinking like the old one.  None of my books have really taken off yet, but at least I have them published and available for readers to discover, so when I do start to get some traction I’ll be in a much better position to succeed.  And either way, I’ve taken charge of my own career.

So yeah, I can say I’ve grown a lot in the past year–which is surprising, considering all I did was stay in my old college town and work odd jobs.  At least I didn’t move back in with my parents–which makes me part of an elite 15%.  But now, I think I’ve just about reached the limit of how much I can grow here in Provo.  If something doesn’t change, I worry that I’m going to start stagnating.

So in a year, where will I be?  Who knows, but if I’ve grown as much as I have since October 2010, I’ll count that as a success.

How do you know when you’ve succeeded?

06. September 2011 · 4 comments · Categories: Uncategorized · Tags: , , , , , , , , , , , ,

With books and publishing changing so quickly, a lot of writers are wondering how they can tell when they’ve actually “made it.” It’s a valid question, one that I think we all need to answer if we want to write seriously.  For myself in particular, as an indie writer, how will I know when I’ve achieved success?

The question made me think about my experience as a Mormon missionary in California, and the definition of success that my mission president (the ecclesiastical leader and father figure for the missionaries) often quoted:

Success is peace of mind which is a direct result of self-satisfaction in knowing you did your best to become the best you are capable of becoming.

– John Wooden

This definition taught me that success isn’t just about external things that may or may not be in your control (for example, the number of convert baptisms per month), but is more about doing the things that are in your control to stretch yourself and reach your full potential.  To be sure, external factors are important measures of success, but at the end of the day, it’s not just about the numbers.

That said, for a writer like me who hopes to make a living at it, the numbers are pretty dang important.  At my current standard of living, I need to sell between 550 and 750 ebooks per month priced at $2.99 and $3.95 to accomplish that goal.  Right now I’m doing about 30 to 50, so I still have a ways to go.

But is that the best measure of commercial success?  If I have 10 titles selling around 55 to 75 copies each per month, will those books be hitting their full potential?

Probably not.  For that reason, I’ll probably end up signing a deal with a publisher at some point in my career; there’s only so much that I can do by myself.  However, in order for me to do that, the terms have to be right; I’m not going to sell myself short just to see my name in print.

(This is one thing that bugs me whenever I hear writers discuss whether traditional or indie publishing best fits their goals.  If all you want is “to see my name in print,” or “to see my book in a bookstore,” how is that any different from vanity publishing?  If that’s really your goal, fine, but don’t think it somehow puts you above indie writers–many of whom have goals that are much more pragmatic than yours.)

Artistically, I think the best way for me to achieve success is to take on a new challenge with every project and still feel like each book is better than the one before it.  Contests and reviews have their place, but going back to the definition, success is all about self-satisfaction and peace of mind.  I don’t want to tie any of those to someone else’s opinion about my work–that way lies madness.

But really, I think it all comes down to the readers.  Unless you stuff your manuscript in the closet, writing is never a solitary act: it is an act of collaboration with the reader.  If I have any measure of success, it will be because someone took the time to read my words.  To be sure, I can’t please everyone, but that doesn’t matter; it only takes one person to make a story come alive.

When I was a missionary, I constantly asked myself whether I was doing the will of God in the life of every person that I met.  That’s how I knew that I had succeeded: when I felt the peace of mind that came from knowing I’d made that personal difference in someone’s life.

I expect it to be similar with my writing.  Commercial success is great, but numbers aren’t everything.  What really matters is telling a story that connects with people on a deep and personal level, transforming them in some meaningful way.  If I can do that and make a living at it, that’s how I’ll know I’ve succeeded.