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In My Mind: Rethinking Goals

3/3/2019

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Longtime readers of this blog may remember that I am a fan of Boston singer-songwriter Amanda Palmer, and that her book The Art of Asking inspired me to start my Patreon, and made me feel a lot more comfortable with several aspects of my creative life.   I feel like getting into her music and her creations dovetailed with the period in time where I finally started to consider myself A Real Creative Professional, and not just someone who was trying to become one.  Then, of course, I realized that the only one who can assign you those coveted capital letters is yourself, in the creative world.  Art and writing are so relative, and subject to so many other different forms of validation than, say, someone who opens a shop to sell watches or golf carts or antique Pez dispensers.   

One of the things I struggle with the most is also one of the most common questions people ask when I tell them I'm a self-published author: "How are your sales?"   I instantly become Mrs. White from that infamous scene in Clue: ​
The more I think about how visceral and immediate my anger is at that question, the more I feel it needs unpacking.  While my sales at the moment are very small, that speaks to a number of factors.  I just caught myself beginning to list them, and made myself stop, because that isn't the point.  For creative people, it is not first and foremost about the money.  (Sure, we like it.  We have bills to pay just like everyone else, and any creation costs money to produce.)    The heart of why most people create - books, music, art, film, you name it - is because they are inspired, and they feel a deep-seated need to share that inspiration with the rest of the world.  Not for the sake of our own aggrandization, but because we feel that what we are making has something to say.   When someone asks a creator about the monetary value of their work as an icebreaker. it hurts.  It sends the message that they are only interested in our social and economic standing, not in what made us want to do these things in the first place.    The problem is ... I got this question a lot.

It began to make me think that my work would only be legitimate to other people if I could say "Oh, it's in the top whatever, on Amazon", or "I made enough money  on my books last week to pay one of my bills", or something similar.  I started thinking I needed to market better.   Then I had to job hunt, and took a position that at first seemed ideal for an author.  Unfortunately, all it turned out to be was demoralizing and draining, and on top of that - as you may recall - a number of stressful and unfortunate things happened over the course of late 2017 and the first half of 2018.  Then the summer of 2018 became another struggle similar to the last job hunt.  I found a position which is supporting me rather well, though it has its flaws, and I find myself once again thinking about What I Really Want.  Which brings me back to Amanda Palmer.

As a "We Survived" sort of thank-you present to my wife and two close friends, I bought us tickets to Amanda's upcoming There Will Be No Intermission tour.  One of these friends is only passingly familiar with her music, so I curated a YouTube playlist for her.  When I did, I found myself listening to one particular song over and over, because of how much it resonates with me:​
I started thinking of all the people I'd convinced myself I wanted to be: the maybe-not-best-selling-but-definitely-recognizable-author,  and then maybe just the locally-recognizable-famous-in-a-small-town-sort-of-way-author ... and the more I thought about it, the more I realized that those were both things other people had seemed to want for me or aspired to for me.  The sort of people who would joke, "Oh, I'd better hang on to this receipt, it'll be worth something when you're famous".  But I don't ​want to be famous.  I don't even really think I want to be rich.  Financially comfortable, sure, but rich just seems a bit too much.  All I want ... is to write books, and make art, and create things that will make people's lives just that little bit nicer.   Am I still going to compare myself to other authors or crafters or artists, and be jealous of their success?  Of course.  I'm only human.  But I'm also going to be proud of them, and happy for them, because they have something which I am realizing is incredibly rare.    

Don't get me wrong: this isn't me making an excuse to not try as hard, or to work as hard.  I still intend to work at consistently improving my writing, at getting this self-marketing thing down, at building a decent Etsy store for Hazel's Moving Cottage, and whatever else may come along with all of that.  But I'm reminding myself that I don't have to be that super-woman who holds a 40-hour job (with frequent overtime), helps keep an apartment in shape, spends quality time with her wife and friends, still has hobbies, AND somehow manages to crank out a novel a year and market it with panache, precision, and a constant stream of brilliant and witty social media across multiple platforms.

Maybe every other year.   Maybe I'll become the next George R. R. Martin - no, who am I kidding, I wouldn't be able to stand waiting that long between books, myself.  I don't know when Adjustments is going to be ready.  All I know is, I'm still working on it as often as I can, along with a lot of other things, and I will always let you know where I'm at.  You'll have plenty of advance notice.  And I'm going to fill this blog with lots of other fun stuff in the meantime - like more What A Character entries, and things about the background of the books, the places, and other neat things - so that you have plenty of reasons to stick around.  

In short, the next time someone asks me how well my books are selling, I'll respond, "You know, I haven't looked at my metrics in a while.  I'm just happy that they're out there."   And that'll be the truth.  Because that's the kind of author I want to be. 

What kind of You do you want to be?  Is it the same answer now as it would have been a few years ago?  I'd love to hear your thoughts.  Drop me a comment below.   

Until next week, I remain your hostess,
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