The Big Reality Show Called Life

Yesterday my car rolled over to 100,000 miles! I was happy I remembered to keep an eye on the odometer and pull over to snap the pics. She's 21 now and feeling frisky!

Our topic at the SFF Seven this week is "If you had to be on a reality TV show, which one would you pick and why?"

Those of you who know me will immediately recognize that this is NOT my topic. I don't watch many TV shows - we don't have cable, so anything I see is what we stream - and reality shows are not my thing. My main associations with reality TV shows are ancient ones from MTV days where they stuck a bunch of bratty people into a house to fight with each other. Though I do love the character of Brock Hudson in She's All That - where he's recent reality show celeb, who can't stop mugging for the expected cameras. The rest of my ideas come from more current occasional You Tube videos of various surprising competitors on singing shows and several decades worth of cultural memes.

But I'll tell you what reality show almost all of us are a part of, whether we want to be or not: social media.

I know, I know - I've said things on this topic before, but it continually amazes me how some people seem to forget how many "viewers" they have. Social media is a big TV camera - or, rather, thousands upon thousands of smaller ones - aimed at us, recording our lives. We can control what we display for those cameras, but not who sees it afterwards.

And, as with the basic premise for all reality shows, the more drama, the more viewers tune in to watch.

Recently I've seen some authors complaining in "private groups" about reviews and contest scores. Inevitably a few others chime in, with sympathy or adding their own disgruntlement to the fire, and the conversation escalates. On one of those, I notice there are over 1,100 people subscribe to that "private" group. All other authors. In another, the group is smaller, but again it's a fairly rarified selection of other authors, colleagues in the same field of business.

Not only a lot of viewers, but targeted and invested ones.

Part of this complaining verged into criticizing major review outlets - who failed to review the authors' books or reviewed them unfavorably - with aspersions cast as to which are taking bribes to review other books with higher ratings.

And all I can think of is Brock Hudson, making an ass of himself, and thinking that he's accomplishing something. All the while everyone watching is shaking their heads, rubbernecking the drama.

Watch What You Feed that Ego

For those who don't follow me on Instagram or Twitter, this is our agave flower spike. It's fixing to bloom any day now. Really spectacular!

Some of my friends find this monster spike unsettling and alien. More than one has compared it to the flesh-eating, massively growing plant in Little Shop of Horrors.
via GIPHY

I can see their (okay, pretty melodramatic) point. But there was something about that manipulative plant, whose hunger for human flesh could never be sated, that sticks in our heads and still gives us the creeps.

We could say it's that atavistic and animal instinct to avoid the predator. I'd go a step further and say that stories of this type warn us of another great peril of being human: the overweening ego. That's our topic this week, asking each other "How Do You Keep It Humble?" aka "Great Cautionary Tales: the Enormous Ego Edition."

Now, there's nothing wrong with a healthy ego. In fact, I'd posit that it's crucial to being a successful author. You need that ego to believe in your own work enough to survive all the criticism, rejections, and those (So Not) helpful advice givers who counsel you to give up on your silly, impossible dreams. Ego is good, because that's what gets a writer through it all. We need a strong ego.

But a strong ego is like a strong body - it should be made of muscle and bone, not fat. An ego built on a solid foundation will be a workhorse. An ego made of lean, well-trained strength is an asset to fight off all attackers.

An overfat ego, or an obese ego, is a liability. It grows huge and bloated on a poor diet of flattery, lies, and denial. It gets in the way. No longer is the ego a responsive weapon and foundation, but it becomes an insatiable monster demanding ever more to feed it. It craves flattery and attention. The truth burns, so it fosters lies and denial. The overfed, bloated ego lives and grows only to serve itself.

That's the greatest danger told by these cautionary tales. In the beginning, the plant offers Seymour gifts, wishes granted, in exchange for food. But in the end, it consumed everything good in his life.

That's what a bloated ego does. It loves only itself, and it will devour everything if not controlled.

So, how do you keep that healthy ego fit and in fighting trim? Watch what you feed it.

• It's wonderful to have your work praised, but keep it in perspective. Remember that it's the work that's wonderful, not YOU.

• Consider the source. There's a lot of suck-ups out there who will tell you everything you want to hear. Your true friends will call you on your bullshit, too. Treasure them.

• Be brutally honest with yourself. Graciously and joyfully accept the good things that come your way, but always treat them like gifts, not your just due.

• It ain't just a river in Egypt. Guard against denial. Even on the little things, make sure you're seeing things clearly, not the way that makes you look the best.

• Acknowledge the role of serendipity and blessings. We achieve success through hard work, but also through the grace of the universe. Whatever you believe in, give thanks daily for the luck that brings you good things.

• Ask "why me?" One of my favorite religious studies professors said, "When bad things occur, we raise our gaze to heaven and ask God, 'why me?' But when good things happen, do we ever question it?" This has stood me in excellent stead. When something terrific happens, I ask "why me?" and then I give thanks.

• Observe the cautionary tales. When that writer does something that makes you roll your eyes at their huge ego? Quit rolling and pay attention. It can happen to any of us. Be vigilant!

And, please, don't feed the plants. ;-)

Cautionary Tales and Cloud Whales

My Great Cautionary Tale: Summed up it goes like this - don't take your success (if you should be so fortunate) for granted.

We all know someone who wants to be a star, right? Maybe we all want that - if only for a little while. In the writing world, these are the people who's very first novel goes to auction. Sizeable checks follow. Accolades. Maybe awards. Praise. It's amazing stuff. And addictive as hell. After a time of hearing that you're brilliant (not the writing - you) it's easy to start absorbing that. Internalizing it. Investing your self worth in it. But success and such praise is as ephemeral as that cloud that looks like a whale in the photo above. (Yeah, yeah. Water vapor and sunlight. Humor me.)

What happens when the editor who went to bat for your amazing advance leaves? Or maybe, the books don't earn out that sizeable check? Or you break your wrist? Or . . .

Everything ends. Good and bad. If you define yourself by the stories that are told when you're riding high, how are you going to handle the inevitable disappointments that are a part of the business? How will you pick yourself up and start over when a critic pans one of your stories? Yes. I can name any number of people who've had their faces rubbed in this lesson - a couple crit partners deal with it. They had early success and their books did very well. They believed they'd done it. They had it made. And then imprints folded. A house went under. And a decade later, neither has published anything further. The joy of the writing process had been pressed right out of them. They still write, but there are a lot of excuses for NOT writing. So time slips away from them like it does from all of us.

Hell, I fall into that trap sometimes myself. On Monday, my father had a heart attack. (He's getting to okay, thanks. Also? Sleeping on hospital floors sucks.) Do you think I've written a word of my NaNo commitment? Well, I did. I'm way behind, but that's not the point. Even sitting listening to my father's telemetry, tracking the steady beep, beep, beep of his heart still beating, I wrote a few words. Writing is my refuge, NOT my definition of myself. It is a hard won lesson that I had to learn myself and from watching others. Enjoy what success comes, revel in it even, but make certain you appreciate it while you have it. Things change. And if you are unlucky enough to get knocked down for any reason, you won't have your vision of yourself shattered when you fall.

The Ones Who Gave Up: Great Cautionary Tales

At last, the much-anticipated next installment in the Sorcerous Moons series, THE TIDES OF BÁRA is out! About and Buy Links at the bottom of the page.

Our topic at the SFF Seven this week is "My favorite great cautionary tale in the writing world."

This might even have been my suggestion, because I think it's really important to pay attention to the cautionary tales. Sure, there's an aspect of rubbernecking to these, or schadenfreude (or Franzenfreude, for a specifically literary metaphor). The key, however, is not to exult in the failures of others - because there but for the grace of the blessings of the universe go we - but to learn from them.

That's why they're Great Cautionary Tales. Don't cry wolf, don't be unnecessarily unkind, don't lose your soul to material possessions. Our core stories tend to be cautionary tales. It's up to us to take those cautions to heart and live by them.

There are many Great Cautionary Tales in the literary world, even more so with the internet ruthlessly detailing each to the miserable deaths of the final squirming pieces. I write a lot of them down and have been since I was a very newbie writer. In fact, lately I've been doing this enormous cleaning of my writing office, including files, and I found a set of notes I made back in 2000, when a writing teacher of mine won a prestigious statewide fellowship. We'd all applied, with shining puppy eyes, as we did every year. She won (deservedly), but showed up only for the awards ceremony rather than the associated conference, wearing scruffy jeans and called the honor "neat." My note says "Always remember to honor the honors you're given. Even if they seem small to you, they might be lofty goals for someone else."

When I finally received that same fellowship in 2006, I made sure to honor it.

But let's take a look at that. Six years between the disappointment of not winning -  yet again - and when I finally did. Ten years since I first applied for it.

I could cite a lot of Great Cautionary Tales, but with NaNoWriMo (National Novel-Writing Month) on the horizon, I'm going to pick this one: Don't Give Up.

Or, put positively, Keep Going!

I'm thinking back to those days of my crit group, the starry eyed aspiring writers who all applied for that fellowship. There were twelve of us, more than half who went on to publish in some fashion (from literary magazines to novels), a third of whom won that selfsame fellowship and a quarter of whom are now dead. None of them were old women, either.

But one of them, who I'll call Diana, lingers on in my mind. She was older than me then, but I'm thinking she must have been about the age I am now. A professor's wife who'd spent most of her life raising a family, she wrote these incredible stories about the passive/aggressive rage in women who gave up their ambitions. Her stories were deftly told, lyrical, and explosive. When I read Meg Wolitzer's The Wife, I thought immediately of Diana. Of all of us, I thought she was the most talented writer.

I still do.

And she never published anything, that I know of. No, she's not one who died, that I know of.

She moved away when her husband retired and we fell out of touch. She has a common enough name that Googling her would be very nearly futile. Oddly resonant, that.

The reason she never published was not because of the gatekeepers, because she was rejected too many times, because she didn't want to learn to self-publish (which back then was highly suspect anyway). She didn't publish because she never submitted anything to anyone. We were the only people who read her work. When we encouraged her to send in a story, she'd demur and say it wasn't ready. Once she confided in me that she couldn't bear for it to be scrutinized and rejected, that it was enough for her to write it.

I tried to respect that, but I think of her from time to time with a sense of great regret. When last I heard from her, she said that, with her husband retired, she'd given up spending time and energy on writing.

She gave up.

I know a lot of writers who have. It's a difficult business, fraught with challenges and opportunities to throw in the towel. It's frighteningly easy to let a small break become a hiatus that becomes a sabbatical that - years later - turns out to be quitting. It doesn't get easier, either. Many writers give up after having multiple books published by Big 5 publishers.

I'm asking you not to be one of them. Because the writers I know who are successful are the ones who kept going no matter what. Not the most talented. Not even the most prolific. Just who kept going.

This is the great lesson of NaNoWriMo, as far as I'm concerned. Writing 50K in the 30 days of November teaches you to build a writing habit, yes - but it also teaches you to keep going. To "win" - to reach the goal - requires that you don't let anything get in the way of completing those words.

It's the most necessary skill for being a writer.

So I'm urging you all: KEEP GOING. If you want to write, WRITE. Let nothing get in the way. Never surrender.

KEEP GOING.

******************

A Narrow Escape 

With her secrets uncovered and her power-mad brother bent on her execution, Princess Oria has no sanctuary left. Her bid to make herself and her new barbarian husband rulers of walled Bára has failed. She and Lonen have no choice but to flee through the leagues of brutal desert between her home and his—certain death for a sorceress, and only a bit slower than the blade.

A Race Against Time 

At the mercy of a husband barely more than a stranger, Oria must war with her fears and her desires. Wild desert magic buffets her; her husband’s touch allures and burns. Lonen is pushed to the brink, sure he’s doomed his proud bride and all too aware of the restless, ruthless pursuit that follows…

A Danger Beyond Death… 

Can Oria trust a savage warrior, now that her strength has vanished? Can Lonen choose her against the future of his people? Alone together in the wastes, Lonen and Oria must forge a bond based on more than lust and power, or neither will survive the test…

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