Viewing entries tagged


What Wild Success Looks Like

"The Ninth Circle" by my friend  Doug Thielscher

"The Ninth Circle" by my friend Doug Thielscher

I ask this question – What does wild success look like? – of every writer I coach and every writer who comes into my AuthorAccelerator program, because I think it’s a critically important thing for us all to understand. If you’re going to spend at least a year pouring your heart and soul into something, you should have a clear idea of why you are doing it, and a clear idea of what you are aiming to achieve.

In the last year, I have probably read more 250 answers to this question, and I recently realized that almost everyone gives some permutation of the exact same two answers. No matter WHY they are drawn to writing a book, their vision of success usually includes some version of the following:

1. Wild success means being plucked from obscurity. This may take the form of being on Oprah, selling rights to a Hollywood movie studio, winning a Pulitzer Prize or getting on the New York Times bestseller list. Whatever the exact vision, it has to do with being recognized as being worthy. It’s not just ME standing here saying, “I can write! I have something important to say! I am good at this!” It’s some clear authority who has singled me out and said, “She can write! She has something important to say! She is good at this!”  Big, big difference, and it’s the thing we all want. To be validated. To be made legitimate. To have the inner vision of who we are, writer-wise, match who the vision of who the world believes we are.

2. Wild success means getting to keep writing. This often takes the form of people wanting to do well enough to quit their day job. Sometimes people cite getting a three-book deal, or a big advance, but the root desire is the same: you get to keep doing the thing you love and you don’t have to do all the other hard stuff you have been doing all your life. You get a free pass.

I bring up this up because the vast majority of us are never going to get the things we dream about. We’re just not. And I think it’s critical to look at this truth from time to time, because what writers often experience once they finish or publish their first book is despair and heartbreak.

I hate to break that news to you, but it’s just the way it is.

A teeny tiny fraction of writers get plucked from obscurity in a way that is life changing. Yes, you may land a great agent, secure a solid book deal, and score a review on the cover of the Sunday Times, but odds are still really, really good that you are not going to become Elizabeth Gilbert or J.K. Rowling.

That means that you still have to explain to people what your book is about and what you do and why it matters. You still have to fight for readers and money and airtime. You still have to think about what you are going to write next and find the time to write it amidst all the other hard things you have to do. You still probably have to keep your day job.

And as for getting to keep writing? To be invited back to do it again? And paid for the privilege? A very few number of writers win that prize. It usually has to do directly with how many books you sell, and most books don’t sell enough to warrant the writer getting ongoing support.

This is all in my head right now because I had a lot of writers this week feeling a lot of despair. These are writers who are just starting to take themselves seriously, as well as writers who have worked really hard to finish and don’t seem to be getting anywhere with agents or publishers or readers.

And it hurts to have to face that truth. It hurts a lot. Because it’s so easy to think that if you don’t win wild success, you have lost.

I heard a quote this week on the radio during a discussion about the NFL.  The guests were talking about what a successful football season is. Is it ONLY winning the SuperBowl? Do we believe that there is literally ONE team that is successful and 57 others that lose? The conclusion was that this kind of thinking is, of course, absurd. There a many, many ways to have a successful sports season – including being good sports, doing better than last year, building towards future success, being moral leaders to the legion of young people watching, breaking records, making money, and enjoying playing the sport.

The same is true with writers. It’s not just the people who win big and win publicly who succeed.

I think it would help all of us to reframe our notions about what it means to succeed.

  • Actually finishing, for example. Actually doing it and not just talking about it. THAT is a huge success and for many people, that is enough.
  • Learning the craft. Really understanding how books are made, how readers are hooked, what magic creates emotion on the page. It feels good to master something that other people don’t know how to do, to become good at it.
  •  Touching a reader. I know from experience that touching just one reader in a truly deep and impactful way can be enormously satisfying. Yes, of course, we would all like to touch thousands, perhaps even millions, but one is good. One is a good start.
  •  Not taking no for an answer. Not letting someone else dictate what you are going to do with your time and your talent. This can mean, in some cases, deciding to go ahead and publish your book yourself when everyone else says no. Is that as good as being plucked from obscurity? Of course not. But it’s also sometimes the difference between reality and fantasy. We live in a time where we don’t HAVE to wait for an agent to choose us or a traditional publisher to invest in us. We can bring our own books into the world. And perhaps sometimes that makes good sense.

I did an interview a few weeks ago with a writer who stopped waiting for an agent and self published her book. It made good sense for her.

Today at 9 am PST I’ll be doing a live Q&A with another such writer, who refused to take no for an answer and is making good things happen for herself. We’re going to talk about how you do that, and what it feels like and what the risks and rewards are. (If you want to join us or get the recording, sign up HERE.)

What I love about these stories is that the writers didn’t roll over and play dead just because they didn’t get the big juicy book deal. They re-calibrated their ideas about what wild success can really mean and looked at it a little more realistically.  They took control of their writing destiny. They looked despair in the face and said, “No thank you.”

Believe me, I’m the first to raise my hand and say I want to be plucked from obscurity and handed a three-book deal with a crack traditional publishing team that would mean I never have to do anything ever again except write whatever comes into my head.

The yearning for that never ends…. unless you realize how rarely that Big Win happens. And unless you realize that the Big Win is not really why any of us are writing.

As Madeline L’Engle said, “What matters is the book itself.  If it is as good a book as you can write at this moment in time, that is what counts.  Success is pleasant; of course you want it; but it isn’t what makes you write.”

We all know L’Engle as the author of the classic, A Wrinkle in Time. But before she wrote that book, she was a frustrated housewife trying to be a writer and wracking up rejection after rejection.

On her fortieth birthday, upon receiving one more rejection, she wrote this:  “I uncovered the typewriter.  In my journal I recorded this moment of decision, for that’s what it was.  I had to write.  I had no choice in the matter.  It was not up to me to say I would stop, because I could not.  It didn’t matter how small or inadequate my talent.  If I never had another book published, and it was very clear to me that this was a real possibility, I still had to go on writing.”

If you are feeling any sort of despair around your work today (or this week or this year), take a step back from that agony and take a deep breath and try answering that question – What would wild success look like? – in a way that is a little less grandiose.

And think about why you are writing.

Do you have to go on writing, no matter what the world offers you in terms of success??

Good, then do it, and do it with joy.

If you don’t have to go on writing? Also good. Now you know, and you have time for other interesting pursuits.




Seventy Seconds to a Sale: How to Convince Your Reader to Buy Your Book


About a week ago, a writer friend of mine mentioned the title of a book I had never heard of before, and she indicated that it had shot to the top of the amazon bestseller list – the list that tracks all books sold on the site, not just the sliced and diced amazon categories that let practically every writer claim their book is a bestseller.

I was immediately struck by the title – When Breathe Becomes Air.

A good title grabs hold of you and won’t let you go. This one was poetic and mysterious – a kind of Zen puzzle. What did it mean? It intrigued me. It pulled me in. I scribbled it down on one of the 3x5 yellow pads I keep on my desk.

I kept glancing at the title and finally decided to go learn more about it – and at that moment, I also decided to chronicle my reaction to the book and how fast it would take me to decide whether I would buy it or read it, or not.

Like you, my days are crammed full. A thousand things vie for my attention. I don’t have time for much of it, or interest, or bandwidth to process it. I wanted to do a mini study of what it would take for a book to get through the noise – and because of the title of this one, I had a feeling it would get through.

When I went to Google, I had invested all of about 5 seconds in the book. That’s how long it took me to hear about it to write down those four words. I knew nothing about it other than the title and its status on the bestseller list. The fact that a trusted friend has mentioned it to me carried a lot of weight.

I Googled the book and was hit with a barrage of entries – ABS News, Katie Couric on Yahoo, The New York Times, Brain Pickings. I picked a review by The San Jose Mercury News because it was on the top of the list and that newspaper has always had excellent book reviews.

I was now about 10 seconds in.

I scanned the piece and learned in another 10 seconds that the book was about a young accomplished neurosurgeon chronicling his own death, and so I kept reading.

Why? Because this is a topic I love to read about. I have a shelf full of books about death -- How We Die, Kitchen table Wisdom, A Grief Observed, The Rules of Inheritance and its follow up After This, Being Mortal, H is for Hawk – the most recent one to earn a place in my living room bookcase. I am a cancer survivor (breast cancer, 16 years ago), and death is of great interest to me – how it happens, how absolute it is, what it tells us about living.

I do not, however, blindly going buy and read any book on death. I passed on the recent Gratitude by Oliver Sacks (another neurosurgeon), even though it got rave reviews. I have never loved Sack’s work, I wasn’t drawn in by the title or the cover or anything I read about it, so I passed.

But When Breath Becomes Air drew me in. I read further in the newspaper review and got to these words:

What follows is a poignant account of his life, his quest to find meaning, his efforts to retain his humanity in the grind of becoming a doctor and, ultimately, his thoughts on dying.
As he and his wife, Lucy, grapple with whether to become parents in their remaining time together, she asks him: "Don't you think saying goodbye to your child will make your death more painful?"
He replies: "Wouldn't it be great if it did?"


At that point, I was sold.  Because being a mother is both a wonderful and a terrifying thing, and I would like to learn from someone who so clearly embraced the wonder over the terror, because I, frankly, have not always been very good at that.

So 50 seconds into knowing about this book, I clicked over to amazon and saw all the praise for author Paul Kalanithi, all the critical reviews, the extraordinary book jacket copy – and I put the book in my Wish List.  I have 12 other books on my bedside table, plenty to read. I didn’t need this book any time soon.

But the day after I put it on my Wish List, I kept thinking about that book – the title, the conceit, a man who had a child knowing he was going to die because he believed that strongly in human connection. I typed it into Google again and found the video that was going viral of the Katie Couric interview.

While I waited for the ads to spin through their cycle (I hate those ads), I read the piece by Brad Marshland and came across these words:

 Paul wrote in When Breath Becomes Air that if he could have some sense of how much time he had left, it would be easier to set his priorities. “If I have two years, I’d write. If I have 10 years, I’d go back to surgery and science.” Living his values, he went back to practicing neurosurgery for a time — and he wrote a book. As it turned out, he had 22 months.

And that was it. Those words that were all I needed because now I saw that this was a book about death and writing and life and how we make meaning, and I was desperate to read it. 70 seconds into knowing about it, I bought the book. It is winging its way to me even as we speak. (I know, I know – I should have gone to my local independent bookstore. I am a sucker for instant gratification when it comes to books.)

I went back to watch the Katie Couric video with Kalanithi’s wife –- and here’s what I saw in her: courage, intelligence, generosity of spirit, grace, humbleness, love, and authenticity.

I saw in her what I had glimpsed in my 70-second encounter with the book – a rare chance to learn how to live in the way that I would like to live, an opportunity to stop letting fear get in the way of wonder.

Books do that to us. They elevate us. They lift us out of our simple existence.  They make us want to be our best selves. And all books have the ability to do this, not just books about life and death.

A dear friend of mine recently had a baby and I sent him a copy of the sweet little board book, Owl Babies. It maybe has 75 words total. It’s a little story about three who are afraid their mom won’t come back, and at the end, she does. I love that book. It, too, lifts me up. I also sent Goodnight, Gorilla, about some animals who outwit the zookeeper. It has no words. And it never ceases to make me smile.

We buy the books that make us feel something, that tap into something deep within us, and we know almost instantly that they are going to do that – by the way our friends speak about them, by the way others write about them, by just a few sample words about what riches they contain.

All of which makes me wonder: am I pouring enough courage, intelligence, generosity of spirit, grace, humbleness, love, and authenticity into the book I am currently writing?

Are you?