Sh*t My Mom Said
By Keith Cronin | May 14, 2013 |
Me and Mom
I’ve decided that I have a new quest as a writer. And I think it could help any other writers who dare to join me in this quest.
Like any good quest, it has a mission statement: Say no to woe.
(Pretty cool, huh? It even rhymes! Hey, I’m a writer, so the whole making-magic-with-words thing – well, it’s just what I do. But I digress…)
To what woe do I refer? The ever-popular “woe is me” mantra, which so many writers seem all too eager to adopt and trumpet. After all, it’s hard being a writer. Nobody appreciates us. It’s difficult to find time and energy to write and still deal with real-world concerns like making a living and supporting a family. And the odds are stacked against us. People like Snooki get book deals and we don’t. The same two dozen authors occupy 90% of the shelf space at any Target or WalMart. Meanwhile the rest of us toil away, unappreciated and unknown. It’s all so unfair!
A notable example of the SPP (Self-Pity Party) movement was this author’s recent article in Salon, in which he bemoans how hard it is to make it as an author, particularly in the strange new world of self-publishing. (The alert reader will note that this guy has already published three well-reviewed books on major imprints, and is now dipping his toe into the waters of self-publishing, seemingly without having done any significant research on the nature of those waters. Oh, and he also gets to write articles for Salon, so clearly this is a guy who just NEVER can catch a break as a writer.)
I’m sorry – was my sarcasm not coming through clearly enough? Then let me voice my reaction a bit more bluntly: Boo-freaking-hoo. You poor thing, you.
Lest you think my quest is directed only at people who aren’t thankful enough for their current blessings, I can assure you, it is not. No, this is an EOQ (Equal Opportunity Quest), aimed at bursting the bubble of self-pity in which any and all writers may be attempting to envelop themselves. Why? First of all, because self-pity is an enormous waste of energy. But an even more compelling reason – for me, at least – came from something my mom said to me many years ago, which I’ve never forgotten.
A self-inflicted pain
Whatever your path to publication may be, there’s no two ways about it: writing is hard, getting published is hard, getting reviews is hard, marketing and promotion is hard, and on and on and on. I get it, and I agree: it’s hard. Really freaking hard.
But here’s the thing: you’re doing this voluntarily.
I remember whining to my mom many years ago about how hard my life was as a musician. I went on and on, listing in detail all the trials and tribulations I had to go through in pursuit of my art. All the hardships. All the unfairness. All the sacrifices. At some point in my monologue, Mom finally cut me off, with one simple sentence:
“Keith,” she said, “nobody ever asked you to do this.“
Ouch. The truth can definitely hurt. But that didn’t make it any less true.
I know, many of us feel as if we don’t really have a choice; that we are somehow “called” to do this whole writing thing. But the reality is, it’s a choice we make – and a path we take – to serve our own interests.
Case in point: being a musician (and now, also a writer) wasn’t somebody else’s calling – it was mine. In other words, I’m doing this for me. And frankly I think this reveals that there is a selfish component to being an artist, whether we like to admit it or not.
I’m doing this for me. And I suspect you’re doing this for you.
[pullquote]There is a selfish component to being an artist, whether we like to admit it or not.[/pullquote]
I know, it’s not a popular sentiment to suggest that artists have a selfish side, but I really believe there’s a lot of truth to the notion. After all, we’re taking a thing we LOVE, and then hoping somebody will pay us to do it. Yes, we work hard at it. But we’re pursuing a dream, not punching a clock.
And I don’t know about you, but I’ve met so many people who never pursued their dreams. Even sadder, I’ve met a surprising amount of people who don’t seem to even have any dreams – a concept so foreign to an artist as to be nearly incomprehensible.
But that’s not us. We are artists. We have dreams, and we pursue them. Frankly, the very fact that we have these dreams – and the freedom to pursue them (even if that freedom is subject to many restrictions) – makes me feel pretty damn lucky.
Real support is more than just cheerleading
My mom was always incredibly supportive of me – I hope this anecdote doesn’t suggest otherwise. But Mom was also incredibly smart, and she realized that sometimes the most supportive thing you can do for somebody you care about is to give them a much-needed reality check.
[pullquote]Sometimes the most supportive thing you can do for somebody you care about is to give them a much-needed reality check.[/pullquote]
Mom passed away several years ago, but that candid observation from such a wise (and incredibly tolerant) woman really changed my perspective. No, it didn’t make the challenges I face any easier, but it did make me far less inclined to dwell on or complain about them. So I’m hoping it might have a similar effect on you.
And even if it doesn’t, the hard truth is that complaining won’t help you write, sell, or market a book. Nor will it endear you to your potential customers.
Important caveat: Some people face enormous obstacles in pursuing their dreams, either by being given less than most other people, or by being given more challenges, such as mental or physical problems, a war-torn environment or other unusual state of peril or unrest. But that doesn’t just make writing hard for them; it makes life hard for them.
Those people have every right to complain. Yet the funny thing is, so many of them don’t. Instead, they face their obstacles, and do what they need to do. Whether we’re talking Anne Frank or Christy Brown (the cerebral palsy victim whose books and paintings were created using only his left foot), we’ve got some tremendous examples to learn from, both as writers, and simply as human beings.
Consider your options
So if you’re frustrated by being a writer, consider the alternatives. Would you rather NOT be a writer? That’s simple enough: stop writing. And frankly that’s an option that’s always worth considering.
But if you find that option impossible to accept, then I suggest you take a hint from the British, and simply do this:
How about you? Have you ever received a reality check or some “tough love” from someone close to you that really changed your perspective? If so, I’d love to hear about it. In the meantime, I hope you found this helpful. And as always, thanks for reading!
Image credits:
Photo courtesy of the Cronin family archives, from what was essentially our own edition of That ’70s Show. See? I really did have hair!
Keep Calm image created using the awesome KeepCalm-O-Matic.
PS – For the record, Mom was not a fan of foul language, so she probably wouldn’t approve of the title of today’s post, despite the obvious cultural reference. But hey, what happens at Writer Unboxed stays at Writer Unboxed, right? ;)
Author of the novels Me Again (originally published by Five Star/Gale), and Tony Partly Cloudy (published under his pen name Nick Rollins), Keith Cronin (he/him) is a corporate speechwriter and professional rock drummer who has performed and recorded with artists including Bruce Springsteen, Clarence Clemons, and Pat Travers. Keith’s fiction has appeared in Carve Magazine, Amarillo Bay, The Scruffy Dog Review, Zinos, and a University of Phoenix management course. A native of South Florida, Keith spends his free time serenading local ducks and alligators with his ukulele.
Nothing particularly erudite to add, but I wanted to thank you for your post. We all need a bit of perspective on occasion, and sometimes a blunt delivery is best. Your mother was a wise woman indeed.
Be well.
That’s it. Straight to the point. We’re not forced to write, or paint, or whatever. We could choose to just have an ordinary job (and many of us have, alongside writing). So, if it’s a choice we make, we’re not allowed to complain and mope. Plus, self-pity will take you nowhere. My younger sister is also a pretty good person when it comes to reality checks, even if her way to deliver them feels like a slap to the face.
Over the time, she gave me more help than “nice, well-meaning” people. Help hurts.
Damned straight, Keith! Thanks for the kick in the butt. I needed that.
I love this post. I think it was Cheryl Strayed who said something along these lines: being a writer isn’t hard. Being a coal miner? Now THAT is hard.
Oh, look! Here it is: https://www.nytimes.com/2012/07/29/books/review/tiny-beautiful-things-by-cheryl-strayed.html?_r=0
Thanks, Keith.
:)
That’s a great line, Sarah – thanks!
Great post, Keith. When I was angsting about ripping my novel apart to turn it into a musical – for which I had the great good fortune of a commission – my very wise agent had 3 little words for me: Get over it.
Thanks, Laura – “get over it” is a great mantra!
Thanks, Keith, for such a brilliant kick in the arse. I needed that! I CHOOSE to do this. I do it for me. It IS selfish. And I couldn’t imagine doing anything else.
These are such valuable reminders. I do feel blessed just to *have* dreams, let alone the opportunity to pursue them. God bless and keep your mom, Keith. Thanks for sharing her wisdom here.
Much appreciated, Vaughn.
Oh, yes, I remember a remark someone made that gave me whiplash, but I needed it.
To begin with, my mom was a handful, and remained so till her death at 86. Her parenting style was to let me and my sister date in cars at 13, but we could not have Cokes or candy in our house because they weren’t good for us. Her entire value system was like that. Life with Mom was a perpetual guilt trip and total shame immersion experience. My sister and I still marvel at some of the crazy things our mother said and did.
When I was growing up I had a favorite cousin named Betty who lived in Mobile with our grandparents. When we got the chance to visit I glommed onto Betty and wouldn’t let go. We were close and could share everything, and I mean Every Thing. One day I launched into a litany about how unfair and unreasonable my mother was, complete with colorful examples. I ripped into my mom seven ways from Sunday. Finally I fell silent, waiting for Betty to offer an appropriate expression of sympathy and understanding, as she always did on everything affecting me. After a long silence she quietly spoke: “I wish I had a mother.” To this day I remember the hot feeling that crept up from my neck to my face. A slap wouldn’t have been any more effective.
Thanks, Lanie. Wow – moments like that stay with us forever, and teach us the important lessons, don’t they?
Keith-
Snooki got a book deal? You mean, she has literary talent as well as getting to live on the Jersey shore? Some people have it all. Truly no fair.
Humility and gratitude do not make one a better writer but they do make the journey lighter. Those qualities free one from unhelpful preoccupation with publishing woes, too. They let one focus on what really matters: story.
As to reality checks, I give those to myself all the time. I volunteered for this. My agency is my responsibility. I’m in charge, I must lead, problems are mine to solve. The thing is, it’s a privilege. I’m damned lucky to do this for a living. (Apologies for my language, Mrs. Cronin.)
My touchstone is my son. Born in Ethiopia, he was destined to grow up illiterate and poor, and to die young. He was abandoned but that tragedy became his blessing–and ours.
Every difficulty on the writers path is really an opportunity and a gift. How damned–oops–lucky we are.
That’s a damn good line, Donald: “Every difficulty on the writers path is really an opportunity and a gift.” Thanks!
Actually, I feel the same way about people who have kids (sorry, all my friends, especially writer friends who have children). More often than not, people like me who chose not to have children are accused of not understanding how hard it is to find time to be creative. Our time is often treated as if it isn’t as important as a parent’s. My response is the same as your mother’s was to you about your choice to be a musician: “No one forced you to have more than one child, or even one.” In the West we are so incredibly fortunate to have multiple choice (and not just on exam papers, as you do in in America).
As for writing being hard…no one ever said the creative impulse would be easy. I often feel that writing a novel is harder than anything I’ve ever done, because it is. But I am incredibly lucky to have the opportunity to try…even if, in the end, I “fail.”
Thanks for the reminder that no one (unless extreme circumstance dictates) is a victim when it comes to writing, or any other creative endeavour.
(And for my friends with children, I’m glad you are parents…your children are our bright future.)
My mother would have loved your title. Sh*t was her favorite word. Don’t believe me, ask my kids. I never told my mom I wanted to be a writer. She was a very practical person. Get a real job making real money. I think she would be proud of me. Once she got used to the idea.
Thanks for telling it like it is, and sharing your mother’s wisdom. I needed it. Sometimes I hear myself sounding like Charlie Brown’s mom and I want to duct tape my mouth shut. I know I’m one of the lucky ones. I know some of those people you were talking about- the ones who don’t even have a dream. This fills me with sadness. And I hear my muse say, “That’s right. Suck it up, Buttercup.”
LOL @ “Suck it up, Buttercup. ”
Love it – thanks!
Great post. Just what I needed to start the day. It’s easy to start feeling sorry for yourself when things aren’t going how you expect, but it’s good to remember that writing is a choice. And everything else that happens afterwards is framed by how you choose to react. So, I appreciate the reminder to act thankful that I’ve made the choice to write.
“I’ve met a surprising amount of people who don’t seem to even have any dreams”
I think that every time my neighbors are mowing their lawns for HOURS, and I’m guiltily glued to my laptop tending to my dreams instead of tending to my raggedy lawn and weedy garden.
OMG, that is SO how I think, MaryZ!
I’m surrounded by neighbors who seem to LIVE for their lawns. Sorry, I just can’t be bothered. The money I spend to have others take care of it buys me free time that is worth far more to me.
Ha, ha! And don’t get me started about my neighbor who washes her car every week.
Our neighbors are leaf blowers, though we call them suckers. Both sides, all seasons, blow-suck-blow they go, for what reason, nobody knows. You don’t know how lucky you are having neighbors who mow, until you’ve had neighbors who blow… (and suck).
Just the pep talk I needed! It’s important to remember that we write because we want to write, so we have to accept that it is going to be hard most of the time. I think the payoff is worth it though (to write well and love what you’re doing). Alright…off to work on that draft four again.
Every day when my husband walks in from his 10+ hour work day (plus 2 hours of commuting), I thank my lucky stars for the brief, but satisfying moments this allows me to work on my passion–writing. Granted those times have to be chiseled out of a frenetic day filled with kid & household activities, and various part time gigs. But it reminds me that the glass is half-full, my cup runneth over, and frequently I have cake and eat it .
Thanks for the reminder.
Great, now I’m freaking STARVING, after all that talk about half-full glasses and eating cake.
Thanks a lot, Melissa. :)
I was thinking of Christy Brown and Anne Frank too, along with Harriet Beecher Stowe, and several contemporary writer-friends as well … and feeling very blessed to have this writing life.
Thanks, Vijaya. Yeah, most of us are pretty darn lucky when we take a hard look at things.
Loved this post! Actually aligns with something else I was reading today, about whiners in the workplace. We need to own our choices.
https://karenburgess.com/2013/05/14/thoughts-on-burn-out/
I spent 20+ years in a great career that finally wore me down. To face midlife at least attempting what I love is a gift. Have I made money from it? Nothing that is going to see me into retirement. But I love the outlook on the future it gives me. To indulge my creative artist at this point in life is a gift. Thanks for the reminder and charge to quit bitchin’ and go forward and write.
Great post Keith!
I believe that it takes significant energy and a certain amount of focus to generate and sustain thoughts of “woe is me.” When I realized that such thought loops were an active waste of energy, and I had control over them, it inspired me to do my best to abandon them whenever they come up, and focus on my writing.
A self-pity party doesn’t get any writing done. Only writing does.
By the same token, an actual celebratory party, like the sort you have when you finish a manuscript, or accomplish a sales milestone, is also an expenditure of energy that doesn’t get any writing done. The only difference between such a celebratory party, and a self-pity party, is that the celebratory party is more fun.
Back to writing! ;-)
Great post! I can’t wait for the Ukulele Concert for Ducks and Squirrels to come out on iTunes.
Great post. It wasn’t my mum, but I was having a hard time a while back, and a close friend simply shook her head, and said you have a choice. Not an easy one but you need to make it, no one else can do it for you. I did still not sure if it was the right one, but I know I can choose to change it. Thanks Keith.
Thanks, Keith. Gotta give it to moms, huh?
On a particularly crappy day I was complaining about my choice to write. “What the hell am I doing?” I said to my mother.
She looked me right in the eyes and said, “Well, if you don’t know, you’re in deep poop, cause no one else will know for you.”
I don’t remember being grateful at the time. In hindsight, she was right. Mom’s usually are. :)
Denise Willson
Author of A Keeper’s Truth
Awesome, awesome post, Keith. We tend to whine too much, don’t we? While I think it’s okay to whine occasionally – just to get it out and acknowledge our frustration – whining full-time can lead to a very negative outlook on not just writing, but life itself. Thanks for this post.
“No pain. No gain.” It’s a cliche and a poster in my gym. But like a lot of cliches it’s based on some facts. My dad must have come from the same tribe as your mother, Keith. Whenever any of us kids wanted to quit something, like ballet lessons or piano, because it was “too hard” he’d start singing that song about the ant and the rubber tree plant. He wasn’t the greatest of singers, but remembering him singing about high hopes has helped me through some tight spots in life and in writing. Thanks for the memories.
The most profound jolt to my naivete came when, at ten years of age, I asked my grandma how much lasting impression I could hope to have. She said, ‘Son, put your finger in a glass of water and pull it out real fast then see how much of a hole you left.’
Yoiks! Reality bites…hard.
LOVE it – thanks, Alex!
Excellent, excellent, excellent post. When I’m starting to feel whiny I try to pull myself up short. It’s a lesson I learned when I was submitting to publishers. I was becoming so negative and then I realized that for the things that mattered (my family, that I have a home, I can buy groceries) I’m very lucky. Even still, I have to be ever vigilant to keep a positive attitude. Negativity is like a tar pit.
You know, I think there’s something else to the writing part. What motivates writers to keep writing or to submit or to self-publish. I know my motivation was to share my stories with other people who might enjoy them. Now, as a self-published author, if I start getting down because I’m not in the Amazon top 100 I just remind myself that my book is out there, and there’s a lot of time for people to find it and hopefully enjoy it. I did what I set out to do. Success is never guaranteed. If people measure their success as a writer by how many books they sell, or what kind of contract they get, then it’s a whole lot easier to become negative and complain when those things don’t happen.
Keith, thanks for the timely post! Struggling with the beginning of my Post WW!! novel. This really helped.
Wow! Exactly what I needed to hear at the exact moment I needed to hear it. Love it when that happens. Thanks for sharing.
[…] a bit more bluntly: Boo-freaking-hoo. You poor thing, you.” Keith Cronin wants writers to “say no to woe.” To which I say: […]
Great article and one every author needs to read. The in public “woe is me this chapter is sooooo hard” is not only embarrassing it shows a basic lack of empathy for the human race which is something authors should have an excess of. We all need to let off steam and complain – but do it in private with some other writers who can understand it. Am I too harsh here- maybe – but this is a pet peeve of mine.
Love your post. I feel so strongly about this issue I actually wrote an entire book of essays about the writing/creative process – titled Don’t Miss the Magic. If it’s that hard, there’s something wrong!
It still blows my mind that any writer thinks that whining about how hard it is to write or how much he/she hates doing it will bring readers to the work. If someone hates writing it, I sure as heck don’t want to read it.
Am on writing retreat as I type and it is pure bliss. I am lucky as heck to be here!
“Boo-freaking-hoo”
I want that on a t-shirt.
Keith, great article. I understand what you’re saying.
However, something remains unsaid. Most artists, writers, painters, musicians, are driven by a very deep-seated passion. They give all they have to give; turn themselves inside out emotionally. Open a vein, if you will, and slowly bleed to death because what they’re expressing is so intensely personal.
Then, what? Nobody pays attention? No one even notices? That’s devastating.
Maybe not in the same way as starving to death or dying from malaria, but devastating, none the less. “Nobody ever asked you to do this.”
Most of the time, an artist does it because she HAS TO. And it kills her. She (or he) is tired, overworked, and, if she puts everything into it, emotionally exhausted. Then, many times, no one even notices. More than complain, she might want to cry.
So to be told not to whine because you’re making art because you’re a diva, fulfilling your own selfish whims, well, I’m not buying it.
So while I agree that self-pity is a waste of time and whining never got anyone anywhere, I also have very deep respect for the Cost of Making Art.
And for those who soldier on, despite the cost (and the fact that they’re now told they can’t even mention that cost), Well Done. Those of us in the trenches beside you salute you.
I agree, Sharon. I think complaining is a kind of honesty that obviously we’re always trying to balance with a non-complaining stoicism, but the suck it up, get over it attitude can be infuriatingly dismissive and simplistic at times of deep artistic frustration – much of which is no more self-imposed than Life itself.
I’m so late reading WU this week, but I love this post so much. Thanks, Keith. I want to email the link to a few writers I know.
Great article, Keith, and one worth remembering when the journey gets long and the fingers get tired. Reminds me of something my late grandfather said. I was struggling with math in seventh grade and he came over to the house to help. We never even opened the book or addressed the problems I was struggling with. Instead, we talked about life in general and all the struggles and hardships that are inherent to our place here on this planet.
I’ll never forget, he said, simply, “Treat every challenge in life as if it is a game…and ALWAYS play to win.”
Words to live by.
CG
ps. you kinda look like a young Mark Bastable in that photo ;-)
Loved this.
I needed something to do after retiring for health reasons. I had done some writing for years, but never got serious with it until now. As much as I love writing, it is equally frustrating. I have word-finding difficulty. That’s a rather bad thing for someone who wants to call herself a writer. When overly tired or stressed I become extremely forgetful. I have to keep a running list of events as I write my novel on a separate page, and jot down events, characters, etc. as I go.
Life is a challenge, and certainly not what I expected for my ‘golden years’, but I thoroughly enjoy talking with my characters, the good and bad; and sharing with others their daily lives, dangers, loves, and dreams.