I just did something really, really stupid (in addition to even publishing this).
Earlier this evening, I was finding reasons not to finish a difficult blog entry regarding race relations and writing fiction, an entry spurred by Barack Obama’s now-famous March 18 speech. Instead, I cleared out some old e-mail and found the name of a person who used to be in a writing group with me.
This person had alienated everyone in the group by sending out an e-mail announcing the publication in a major lit magazine — her first published story — and how this validated her ambition; "Since I’m getting published in a magazine, I feel like a real writer!" Since publication credits were basically nil among the other members of our group, you might imagine this pronouncement was greeted with all the enthusiasm of Jeremiah Wright presiding over Rush Limbaugh’s sixth marriage.
This was all about four or five years ago. Like an idiot, I Googled this person. I knew the result could be toxic, and so it was: she has a Website that lists credits for numerous major literary publications, and she has a novel coming out soon. When I took all of this in, I calmly closed the door to my room, gently put a towel in my mouth, and screamed "FUCK!!!!" at a volume that threatened to seriously damage my vocal chords.
Now, I remember reading just two stories from this writer, one kinda bad and one pretty good, which could hardly be considered a representative sample. That she’d achieved such success in so little time — she really only started writing fiction a few years ago — is the kind of thing that makes other less-successful writers, shall we say, insane with jealous rage.
Published novel count: This man 2, Bookfraud 0
To give an accurate description of my emotions and thoughts at this moment would be giving entree into a dark, ugly place where one has nightmares. Let’s just call it a case of sputtering, impotent rage.
It was about 7:30 p.m. when I saw this, and I knew I was in for a sleepless night of teeth-grinding, heart-racing depression. Have I just wasted the last 20-plus years of my life? What the hell does this person got that I don’t, besides talent? I feel extreme extentential nausea, panic, dread. I feel like I’ve done all the "wrong" things to further my writing career — I lack connections, I don’t submit to the right publications, I didn’t listen to advice when I was younger — and that I lack talent. Ridiculous to indulge such thoughts, but there’s no denying that these feelings exist.
It’s not that I hate this person (though I kinda do), and she certainly has done nothing to deserve any hate. OK, her Website and blog are smarmy and self-congratulatory, but if I had not known her, her success would have evoked the same emotions as when one misses the question on Final Jeopardy.
And it’s not that I’m looking for sympathy or stroking, as I already wallow in enough self-pity to drown the U.S. Olympic Swim Team, and whine enough to make Baby look like a modicum of patience (for instance, see previous entry).
Still, my anger bothers me, and not only because indulging such behavior is toxic and self-defeating; also, this is hardly the way to act as a role model for my son. Given my bitching about the ages of other novelists, I’m sounding like an insane homeless man screaming on a street corner. No, what truly bothers me because I’m 43 and altogether too old for such silliness, and, worse, I don’t know what to do next.
In the past — like 15 years ago — I would have sat down at the computer, fueled by anger, and furiously bang out fiction of dubious quality but of intense meaning (intense in my mind, at least). I would have doubled and re-doubled my efforts. I would have sent out stories to everybody and everyone that hadn’t already rejected me, and to those who had. I would get a whole new set of agents to query, or even started working on a new novel. What the fuck is the matter with these people? I’m going to fucking show them!
The Young and the Bilious
I really don’t have any short fiction to submit (it’s far too late in the year to submit for the fall, in any case), my novel is in a state of suspended animation, and I’m confused as to how to find a new agent, if that is even an option.
Maybe I should just check in on Baby, make sure I didn’t wake him up, look upon his face, let myself be awash with love and the undeniable urge to cradle him in my arms, and realize I’m the luckiest guy in the world.
Then, I leave the room and break something. Outside. Something that can grow back. Suggestions?
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I feel your pain. And your hate. Truly, deeply I do.
There’s only one cure. When this floozy’s book comes out,
you must write her an eloquent, brilliant, gracious letter of
congratulations. This seemingly distasteful act will set you free.
You can do it! Knock one out of the field for the rest of us.
Sounds like hate is a hide word for “feeling hopeless.”
I like how even in all your anger, you remain concerned about the environment.
Get over yourself and get back to writing. You’re not too old! You can’t judge yourself by others. She may have a book ready to publish, but what if it only sells 500 copies? With the advent of e-publishing anyone can be a published author these days.
Turn all the rage you put into this post into a great chapter in your book. And don’t hurt the environment in doing so.
This reminds me of how I’ve mentioned Bonnie Friedman’s book Writing Past Dark that I kept meaning to discuss (beyond the mentions). She writes — and well — about this exact topic. Maybe now that you’ve reminded me, I’ll finally get at it.
Also, I read somewhere that Joan Silber recommends cultivating equanimity.
tai: that is a wonderful suggestion. i wouldn’t find writing the note distasteful, but sending it would be. i know the rule, to get rid of one’s anger, wish the best for the other person. words to live by.
bernita: right you are. it does feel hopeless sometimes. this person really didn’t do anything except have some success.
fringes: i’m always looking out for the planet.
anti-wife: thank you for another (needed) slap in the face. what this person does has zero effect on my life, but i guess if i have one deep-seated insecurity, it would be the fear of failure. that’s what is a bit frustrating, though — in the past, i would have been inspired to write, but it doesn’t feel that way now.
but you are great for giving me the honest truth.
bellascribe: i will have to seek out bonnie friedman’s book. anything to get my head screwed on straight.
and just think: joan silber taught a class of mine in grad school.
I certainly understand your frustration; perhaps take more comfort in the Baby, knowing some of us have only a cat to turn to for solace?
Not me. I mean, noooo… never me.
LMAO “a represenative sample – one good and one bad” Thanks for the drive by, hope i am considered by u as a good writer one day…..wanna exchange blog rolls?
I understand how aggravating it is when someone you don’t like and have a lower opinion of than yourself gets ahead. You really, really want to do them seriously wrong. What karmic advantage did that wanker have over you? What ass kissing did they provide (or other graphic behavior)? Et cetera.
I had a writing professor who knew Joyce Carol Oates “back when” and man did he ever go on repeated public tears about how unworthy she was and etc. Put your little rant to shame, and he did it in a classroom full of students, and was practically foaming at the mouth he was so furious and hateful. Heh. I loved that, because this guy is still the most pompous jerk I’ve ever had the displeasure to study with. He sucked, and so far as I could tell, anything he didn’t write sucked and his whole purpose was to rub his greatness into the nostrils of the student population. No wonder he never got tenured. Aaaanyhow, you aren’t that guy. Nowhere near that level.
And I’d feel like you do, too.
thirdworst: thank you for the needed perspective. as wife told me in my period of distress, the other writer may have a book deal, “but you’ve got Baby.” so true.
rawdawgbuffalo: and i’m glad you could make it here. would love to exchange blog rolls. though it sounds a bit homoerotic. not that there’s anything wrong.
writtenwyrdd: now you’ve got me freaked that i may end up being that bitter old man one day. i know my depth of anger is irrational, juvenile, and ultimately self-defeating, yet i let it eat me up.
honestly, the person in question probably busts her ass, is talented, knows how to network, and deserves her success. but i bust my ass, too. so i ask myself, “does that mean i simply lack talent? are my interpersonal skills that pathetic? or is it just my work that is pathetic?” and then the cycle of self-loathing begins anew.
Okay, then. I suggest Prozac. Or alcohol. But keep writing@!!!
writtenwyrdd
I did something similarly stupid — I LinkedIn to all my college friends who are now lawyers or think-tank slaves. Then I found out another one of my friends is also publishing his first book this year.
Oh well. At least I don’t have the grad school debt.
It’s just like that Morrissey song, We Hate It When Our Friends Become Famous. It’s so true. Look, BF, this whole publishing thing is like playing the lottery. Sometimes the undeserving win big. Accept it, move on. It doesn’t make you any less of a writer because some no talent got a break.
Write a mystery. Make sure it’s a series. Tone should be a little cynical, a little crazed, a little (just a very little) “literary” (good grammar, good vocabulary, maybe a reference to some famous writer=literary). Your main character? A disappointed guy in his early 40s. He works in a job where people turn up dead with some regularity. Cop. A guy who owns a big junk yard.
The so-so writer will be your first victim. And the death should be really, really gruesome. Have some fun with that gruesome death.
The killer? Oh, I don’t know — pick someone else you really hate.
If you want a list of agents who could sell a book like that, let me know. You don’t even have to use your real name if you want to save that for works of literary greatness. But the huge advance? You’ll have to get that check made out in your real name.
Hang in there dude. xo
I went through a weird time when I was younger when I couldn’t even listen to music because I was sooooo jealous of the musicians. I decided to rearrange my brain so that I *truly* believed in my own path and that other people’s success didn’t threaten me. And later I married a MUCH better and more successful writer, so I really had to stop it.
And you know the kicker? I think I banished jealousy so thoroughly from my life that I lost a lot of motivation, too. Lately I’ve been trying to get it back — trying to get pissed off at the successes of others in order to goad myself.
A dollop of jealousy is a useful thing!
writtenwyrdd: you know what they say — alcohol is the cure for it all. but i will keep writing. you can bet your sweet bippy on that.
collin: true — we do hate it when our friends become famous. i’m just trying not to begrudge someone who may actually deserve some success. it is a crapshoot sometimes.
bloglily: now that made me smile. but upon reflection, it’s a pretty great idea. i’ve never been drawn to genre fiction; does that mean i can’t write it? (”yep,” they say in unison). and just how gruesome shall the murder be?
rellis: thank you for the advice, which is good. i actually married a woman who is a far better writer than me, and i was once kinda sorta jealous. but i’ve gotten over that.
what i find disturbing isn’t that i’m jealous (though i am a little disturbed), but that the jealousy is just making me insane, not motivating me at all.
I don’t hate my ex-husband, but he has informed many a character. Heh. It is a good idea to pick someone you have an, um, issue with and lampoon them.
Rage is rage. Don’t deny it. But don’t get stuck there. Keep writing. Keep writing. Keep writing.
Keep writing. I have been on both sides of the fence. When I got published and announced it to my group, I got a really mean response from one of my group members. I was astonished and hurt. On the other hand, I have lots of friend publishing now and even publishing books, and though I am VERY and genuinely happy for them, I feel very wistful whenever I hear the news.
This kind of turmoil will never stop–the key is that you never stop, either.
writtenwyrrd: like hemmingway said, living well is the best revenge. also, putting people who have wronged you into your fiction. i do that all the time, as versions of ex-girlfriends but mostly as myself.
verbivore: yes, rage is rage, i don’t deny it. it actually used to fuel my writing. now it just eats away at me. but i will keep writing. keep writing. keep writing.
jade park: now you’re making me feel guilty. i really don’t wish anyone animus towards success (ok, i do sometimes). but as one gets older, rage and jealousy become crutches. they serve as great reasons not to write, like i need more of them.
Interesting post and a brave one as well! I think as writers we have all experienced a little envy and at the very least a case of ‘whynotmenites’ when confronted with someone else’s success. I’m met people who could write like a dream but were so arrogant and nasty, you wondered how they could ever write such sweet prose. Likewise, the nicest, loveliest people that try try try their little socks off, aren’t always the best writers. The most offensive of all however, is the mediocre ones who get published while the rest of sit back and seriously consider giving up writing for something that produces better odds.
I’m not saying your writer in question is untalented. Perhaps she has oodles of it AND has worked her butt off to get where she is. But maybe not. The thing is, it doesn’t matter if she’s worked hard, or overcome challenging obstacles, because talent doesn’t always win out. Life is unfair that way. There will always both underserving sods (in our eyes) winning prizes, landing contracts and bookdeals while the rest of us gnash teeth. Often they are the people we most disklike.
If you look at success as being mainly about publishing and accolades, there will always be someone to hate. The writing world is full of ambitious asses willing to sell you your own mother back if you let them.
If you look at it in terms of battling you own inner demons — if you use this experience to fuel you and continue to write despite (inspite?) of the anger/envy/unfairness you may vanquished some of that excess energy and feel good about what you’ve accomplished — no one can take that away from you. Keep writing. Your ability to wrangle with this and other issues says a lot.
“Published novel count: This man 2, Bookfraud 0″
You made me laugh very hard at this.
I saw your comment concerning AAM and popped over to see your blog. I just have to toss you some encouragement.
Shut up and write!
You are very funny, sharp, intense, and possessing significant insight to be a pleasurable read – this is just from a few blog posts.
You age doesn’t matter and her success matters less. Form your own magazine and publish your stuff in it. Publish your stuff on Amazon via CreateSpace. Network your ass off on FaceBook. The Internet has opened an amazing world of chance and rejection for the writer that wasn’t present a dozen years ago. The only thing that makes a difference is your desire to achieve (I’m giving you the benefit of the doubt as to your talent because I’ve enjoyed your work here so far).
You can do it, just work on keeping yourself out of your way.
I have a hard enough time following that advice myself some times.
John Donald Carlucci
Astonishing Adventures Magazine
astonishingadventuremagazine.com
I saw this post back in March, and just stumbled across it again. Just wanted to say: I understand!