Why Success is Hard
By Lisa Cron | January 12, 2017 |
photo by Ryan McGuire via Flickr
It’s even hard to type that word, especially when thinking of oneself. Success. What is it, exactly? Specifically? What would it be like for you, in your life?
One of the things that I often suggest to writers when thinking about what their protagonist enters the story already wanting is something I call the “Eyes Wide Shut” test. Meaning: can you close your eyes and see, specifically, what would actually, really, literally have to happen for them to attain their goal? That is: achieve success. And, going even deeper, can you see (read: feel) what it would then mean to them?
And I don’t mean “feel” as in: they’d be happy, sad, bewildered, or that their heart would pound, tears would pool, or stomach butterflies flutter. But “feel” as in: what would they be thinking? What would they realize? What new insight would they have? And most potent: How is this moment different than what they expected it to feel like back when it was still a far off, much hoped-for goal?
Because there is almost always a massive difference between what we expect something will be like, feel like, and mean to us, and what it actually is like once we get there.
When it comes to success, the one area we don’t tend to focus on is this: the collateral damage. Not damage in the “you broke it” sense, but damage in the “now your life is going to change” sense. As Anatole France so poetically opined, “All changes, even the most longed for, have their melancholy, for what we leave behind us is a part of ourselves; we must die to one life before we can enter into another.”
Okay, that is a tad dramatic, but still. It gets the point across. And the thing about success is that it’s so easy to imagine it as a “destination,” when it actually forces us to keep moving, to up our game, do more, try harder. Because having achieved success means that now there is another mountain to scale, and the pressure is even greater. It’s an ongoing process that never, ever lets up.
Who knew? Not me.
I thought success was that moment when what you’ve worked hard for comes to fruition, and now you have time to kick back, to relax into it, and then, at long last, things become easier. I know, what a dope.
Which brings me to something that it is hard to say, on so many levels.
First, it’s hard to admit that one has had success. It feels brazen. Braggy. Like you’re Robert Goulet singing “C’est Moi” from Camelot (give it a listen, it’s hilarious).
But okay, here goes. I have had some success doing what I most love: talking story, helping writers zero in on the content of the story they want to tell, and busting the myths that keep them from it. I never thought I could have a book published. Now, I have two. I am asked to speak all over the place. It honestly astounds me – because not long ago I saw myself as nothing more than the schlubby woman in line at Trader Joe’s trying to get the cashier to like me (that actually still happens). And like I said, it’s even hard to type that word – success – when talking about myself. But when I look back at what I set out to do, and what I’ve done – things that, in the beginning, I never in a million years thought I could actually achieve – I have achieved them. I have been successful.
And what I’ve realized is that while that’s definitely, unequivocally, made my life much, much better, instead of making my life easier, it’s made it harder. Success has done to me exactly what life does to the protagonist on the first page of a story: it’s given me no choice but to deal with unavoidable change.
One of those changes is that I’ve made the hard decision to stop writing this column for Writer Unboxed. This will be my last post, and I can already feel the bittersweet tug, knowing that I am indeed leaving a part of myself behind. I love the community, the idea exchange and the camaraderie of writers here, but I’m now woefully short on the one thing that none of us can create: time. As I’ve said many times here, I am an embarrassingly slow writer, and it takes me two days to write a post, and longer to edit them. As some of you have noted, I rarely respond to comments –- but it’s not because I don’t read them, or don’t want to respond, but simply because it would take me another full day or two to do it. I will forever be jealous of those of you who can sit down and write quickly and succinctly. I’d kill for that skill.
I will miss you, but I’m sure our paths will cross again in the near future. The writing world is both wide, and at the same time, intimate, close and companionable.
I’ll leave you with the question I started with: what would success be like for you? How might your life change? What hard choices would you have to make?
Adios! For now.
[coffee]
Lisa Cron is the author of Wired for Story: The Writer’s Guide to Using Brain Science to Hook Readers From the Very First Sentence and Story Genius: How To Use Brain Science to Go Beyond Outlining and Write a Riveting Novel (Before You Waste 3 Years Writing 327 Pages That Go Nowhere). Her video tutorial, Writing Fundamentals: The Craft of Story, can be found at Lynda.com. Her TEDx talk, Wired for Story, opened Furman University’s 2014 TEDx conference, Stories: The Common Thread of Our Humanity. A frequent speaker at writers conferences, schools and universities, Lisa’s passion has always been story. She currently works as a story coach helping writers, nonprofits, educators and journalists wrangle the story they’re telling onto the page; contact her here.
Oh, Lisa.
I’m still reeling from your last paragraph. I’ll miss your monthly wisdom, although I know I’ll see and talk story with you again. It has been a pleasure having my workday at WU fall on the Thursdays your column publishes.
Success, for me, would be to publish the book that’s been hounding me and keeping me awake at night. At least that one book. And then I hope another one hounds me until it’s written and published.
Just a few short years ago, the thought of writing a book had never crossed my mind. And now, here I am in the midst of doing exactly that. My hard choices, though… that’s what’s been weighing me down, keeping me from moving forward.
I, too, am a woefully slow writer on a perfect writing day. Since most of my days haven’t been conducive to writing (life has been a little chaotic as of late), it’s slowed me down even more. Thus, the hard choices. But they’re being made.
I’ll always appreciate your guruship and will continue to follow your lead. Thanks again — for everything — and may you have SUCCESS in all your future endeavors. I’ll see you on the interwebs!
xo
Lisa,
You will be missed here, but your hardcore fans (moi included) will be following you (but not in a stalkish kind of way). I’ve read your books, seen you speak twice, watched you in a YouTube Ted Talk, participated in a webinar. Okay, so may be that is rather stalkish. But your advise and counsel has helped, and continues to help me in my writing every day. Your enthusiasm is contagious. Here’s hoping our virtual paths continue to cross.
A big, sincere ‘thank-you’ for your efforts and sharing your special gift!
All the best to you…
Oh, Lisa, I laughed out loud at your wanting the cashier at Trader Joe’s to like you. I thought I was the only one. I’ll miss your writing advice in these posts but, most of all, I’ll miss your humor. Not everyone can make me LOL.
Best wishes! And I hope we meet again.
Lisa, you know already how I feel but I wanted to say this much again, for the record: Thank you. Thank you for all of the hours you’ve given over to WU posts, especially for the brilliant attention you’ve paid to the importance of backstory. (We won’t forget that– right, folks?) Thank you, too, for the love you’ve shared for this site outside of this site–for your generous cheerleading of WU’s content and our community.
It’s been our privilege to host your words here. We’ll keep a light on for you while rooting for your continued success. Write on, friend.
Dear Lisa, thank you for being here and teaching us the importance of story first. I love your book, Story Genius, and hope we will meet one day.
You are right, that success brings with its own difficulties, of a different sort. I am content to have the writing life I have with my family. What I yearn for is to be exceptionally good. Success will be to see my children remain in the grace of God as they mature and do what He wills, it is seeing the books of my heart making a difference in the people’s lives, it is growing old with my husband, holding hands, singing, dancing, and grandchildren to love.
God bless you Lisa and all your endeavors.
Success for me would be to finish the tale I’m writing in a way that moves one person to shift their perspective on life for the better. You’ve helped me get closer to this goal, Lisa, so thank you!! I, too, will miss seeing you here.
I will miss seeing your posts here, Lisa, but your books are on my shelves and (some) of your wisdom in my WIP. Thank you for every bit you’ve shared and good luck with your success!
You may be retiring your spot, Lisa, to address new challenges in which you will undoubtedly succeed, but the space you create will allow a new writer the opportunity to fill your (admittedly large) shoes, and that will feel like her success. Thanks to your inimitable voice, you will still be with this writer every day as a voice over my shoulder, and I’ll be using my opposable thumbs for all they’re worth. xo
NOOOOOO!!!!!!!!!
Good post, today, Lisa. Your blogs here have been informative and given much encouragement to writers. Success is so personal, isn’t it? Even a small readership can be hugely successful to a writer. I have 3 novels out there and nearly a dozen short stories published in journals; I co-chair an authors group, write a blog, and read and write and study my craft. Book sales sometimes are good, other times not so good. Passion, talent, and skill count in success.
Lisa, it was a privilege to listen to you speak at UnCon this year, and I hope that your increase in time will grant you even more success–and hopefully another book someday, so we can continue to enjoy your insights and wonderful sense of humor.
Wait, what…? You’re stepping down? Well, being busy I get but, man, I am sorry and will miss your posts. You’re not the only one leaving an old identity behind. We are too. WU endures yet it won’t feel quite the same without you.
Lisa, your wisdom will be sorely missed at WU but I’m glad you’re making time for what you need in life. (Didn’t we have this conversation once in a parking garage? ha) I look forward to seeing more Lisa books and teachings in the future. You’ve made a profound difference to so many writers and your thumbprint is on our novels.
Was it something I said? Come back!
Okay. Success.
Since, as of Dec. 30th, I am 50, I can no longer define success as becoming a career writer. Maybe an early retirement writer, but not a career.
I can, however, define success as enjoying the second half of my life as a published author with several readers. Yes, I plan to live to 100. I do a low-carb diet.
The way I envision said success is me enjoying my golden years penning a novel or two each year, possibly from the comfort of my travel trailer, which is parked in the shadow of Mt. McKinley in Alaska. Or maybe at the county park two miles from my house. Either way.
I think writers have a special kind of opportunity for success. It’s one of the few jobs that require little in the way of physical ability. As long as our fingers can type (and that is not even a requirement any more), we can keep doing what we love. That’s real success to me. And that bit of extra income to keep the cable on doesn’t hurt.
Thankfully, my wife made me contribute great sums to my 401k when I was young and too foolish to do this on my own. It’s not enough to retire today, but it will give me the freedom to avoid becoming a Wal-Mart greeter and write to my heart’s content. Hopefully, when I breathe my last, it will be while typing (or speaking, or thinking…) one more novel in a long line of (good/better/best) sellers.
Keep in touch. I assume your jersey will be hoisted to the rafters.
Lisa, I will certainly miss seeing your posts here, but I totally get that sometimes we have to say “no” to some things so we can say “yes” to other things. I’ve so enjoyed meeting you and learning from your UnCon sessions in 2014 and 2016, and from both your books. Success for me will be finishing my re-imagined, blown-apart and re-invigorated WIP draft this year and having it reflect the many insights gained from your teaching. Wishing you all the best on your journey!
Lisa,
Thank you for all your wise words, for the way you made me take a step back, and learn to look objectively at my writing. Thank you, for lighting the road ahead so that I could consider the many paths–not as mysteries yet to be discovered, but with a strong sense of where they can lead.
In the words of Bill and Ted: Party on, and have a most excellent journey.
Xxxxooo
I’m not sure if I will ever reach ‘success’–because it has been my experience that when I achieve what I perceived as success another door opens. For this reason, I believe ultimate ‘success’ will remain unattainable. And that’s a good thing–because dreaming of it will continue to get me leaping out of bed in the morning.
Thank you for your contributions to Writer Unboxed, Lisa. Wishing you much success.
I’ve always enjoyed your posts, Lisa. Thanks for sharing all those fantastic insights on writing. Wishing you much success in your latest writing pursuits.
First, I loved “Wired for Story.” Just want to express my thanks to you for writing that book.
Second, from my experience, the Trader Joe’s cashier can turn out to be a pretty terrific fella.
Third, when it comes to success, I “get” you. Not that I’ve achieved it at your level, but it scares the bejesus out of me. In my mind, success equals energy output that I don’t possess. And the pressure, oh jeez, how will I survive? So I put the brakes on when it comes to succeeding. I procrastinate. I whine that I’m overwhelmed, which is my brain’s way of keeping me from starting. Excitement feels like anxiety, so I avoid it. Which pretty much sums up my family; at gatherings, we sit like stones.
So it’s interesting for me to hear your concerns about success, and the need to let go of something due to lack of time. I’m madly trying to find more time, as if it can be located under the cushions of the couch. Yes, I, too, would need to give up blogging to make room, and time, for working on my novel and/or building my copywriting business. I tell myself to hang up the “gone fishing” sign, but I keep cranking out another post. For those 68 subscribers. Sigh.
Try reading “The Big Leap” by Gay Hendricks. A great friend of mine recommended it, and it was super helpful for me. It covers anxiety as well as the relativity of time. Pretty interesting and wise stuff.
Thanks for the tip!
Lisa, you’re one of the only writers I always read on this site. When I see “Lisa Cron,” I know it’ll be worth it. I’ll miss your wisdom.
Yours have been among the most useful posts on WU and you will be sorely missed. Though I’m glad I will get to meet you in person at the WFWA Retreat in September 2017!
Nooooo! Who am I going to argue with now? (Porter, looks like you’ll be hearing from me…)
Lisa, you’ve made an amazing contribution here, and will be sorely missed. But as another very slow writer, I understand and respect the choice you’ve made.
I am SO glad I got to meet you at UnCon – I hope our paths cross again soon. Until then, good luck, and write on!
LoL!!!!! You’re awesome Keith.
Thank you for your always interesting and thought-provoking posts, Lisa. I will miss them but wish you much pleasure (and productivity) with that extra bit of writing time you will now have.
Shoot … Talk about raining on a parade … and with all the rain we’re getting in California …
I’ve been super busy with my own endeavors and so haven’t been commenting or reading here lately, but I happened to read today’s title and was fascinated and then I recognized your style and read on, excited that I caught the day you were posting … only to find out–sigh.
After reading your post I feel like you just jackhammered a hole in my heart … twice (And it’s a teeny tiny heart to begin with). One for leaving us at Writer’s Unboxed, and one for what success really entails behind the curtain.
When I read: “I thought success was that moment when what you’ve worked hard for comes to fruition, and now you have time to kick back, to relax into it, and then, at long last, things become easier. I know, what a dope.”
Oh god no, please no. You’re supposed to say things like: the people at Trader Joes ask what you do for a living because you just shine and are amazing and you have to lie, and you know they don’t believe you, and you both smile as you swipe your credit card that’s made of real gold…right? Don’t say it only entails more work and bigger mountains to climb, I’m already on the verge of a heart attack (I’m flying tomorrow, hope I just didn’t Jinx myself. We love you Carrie Fisher!). The last thing I or probably anyone else wants to hear is that it only gets harder? Oh well, I guess I’ll just have to start fantasizing about retirement instead (I know you won’t be able to burst that bubble for a while).
But to be serious for a moment: When you’re on stage … and I’ve seen you on various panels at different conferences … you are the Star that shines up there. Something deep inside of me warned this day may come, and absolutely, in bittersweet fashion, it has. I just want to take this time to congratulate you. You are an amazingly intelligent person and an absolute Story treasure. Thank goodness we have your books, and Story Genius Courses (insert shameless plug here:) to guide us along that horrible, never ending Story of success.
All the best Lisa. We love you!
I will miss you, Sensei, Lisa Cron. Congratulations on your success.
(Brian’s, internal monologue?)
Come on!
I finally stopped crying. You know, from Jo’s continuous posting and singing- and then, posting and singing some more.
Now, Lisa is on the bandwagon. NO! NO! I refuse to shed one tear. Brian B. King doesn’t cry. Nah-ah, ain’t gonna happen. Shit! Is my face wet, already?
See! See! See, what Lisa did. She made me like her and follow her. I wished her into the real world, and poof, virtual reality became reality, “concretization”.
And, then….
Oo! Oo! Sign my book, Lisa. Sign my book. HELL YEAH, Lisa signed my book. Cloud nine, here I come. I’m never coming down. You know what, let me see if I can reach cloud ten.
And, then…
“Hey, everyone, I have some good news and some bad news.”
“Oo- what Lisa, what.”
“I’m successful.”
“HURRAY, Lisa is successful. You go, girl! That’s what I’m talking about! Go get’em Lisa!”
“Um, sorry everyone, I know it’s in the middle of the season of darkness and snow, but it’s time for me to go.”
“What?”
WHAM! Sucker punch! Body shot! Is that an eighteen-wheeler coming in my direction? Total unconsciousness.
“When I wake up, will Lisa be gone?”
“Yes, Brian, she will.”
“Aw- dammit!”
We all know the fairy tale about the wish-granting fish, right? A poor fisherman catches a magic fish, who gives him a small reward. The fisherman’s wife gets greedy and makes the fisherman go back to wish for more and more. She never thinks it’s enough, even as a queen in a glittering palace. Eventually the fisherman just asks the fish to make his wife happy. The fish undoes all the wishes. The fisherman and his wife go back to their little hovel, and finally she’s content.
When I was a starving grad student in Indiana, I announced one day on social media that I would know I had “made it” in life when I had a dishwasher. Now when I feel like I’m not succeeding as quickly as I’d like, when the rejection letters pile up and the day I see my first book in print feels so very far away, I remind myself to never forget that I have a dishwasher. There will always be bigger goals to achieve, and tougher challenges to face, but no matter how my life develops over time I will be content…because I have a dishwasher.
Lisa,
We will miss you and your blog and humor. But I understand there are times when one has to stop and re-prioritize.
Wishing you all the best in all you do.
Lisa, you are a gem and the readers of WU will miss you. We are fortunate to be able to revisit your posts, and to have your books on our shelves. (My writing group is working through STORY GENIUS right now and, even if it’s hard, it’s getting the juices flowing.) As for success, I think it may be the ability to say “I did the best I could do with what I had.” Oh, and taking time to smell the roses, even if right now in Portland they’re under a foot of snow.
Happy Trails!
Thank you for being part of this community (as you will always be) and for sharing your wisdom (as is your nature to do). You’ve had an influence not only on my writing, but once I started digging per your request, my personal values and perceptions as well. When I saw you at UnCon, we spoke briefly about how gaining insight into our characters often allows/encourages/enforces insight into our own souls. I think that’s one of your greatest gifts and though I’m sad I won’t find your words here for now, I wish you continued success and sharing of your gifts. xo
From one embarrassingly slow writer to another: thanks for adding so much to the WU community. I frequently print your posts, keep them beside my computer and re-read them often.
My highlight of 2016 was meeting you at WU’s Un-con. I am currently working through Wired For Story and applying it to my WNIP–that’s Work Not in Progress. Or maybe it is in progress, I just haven’t written a word of it yet–still doing all that stuff you told us to do at the conference.
Some days I despair of ever writing a decent word, other days an insight arrives just when I am about to give up. I keep going, read another chapter, ponder how to apply the insights to my WNIP, write in my journal.
I suppose if I were “successful” I would be doing the same thing, only more of it for longer hours and hopefully faster. But any day spent writing is a good day for me!
Thank you for your posts here, Lisa, and best of luck with future endeavors. I’ve been selfishly hoping for MORE books from you, so, um, Go you!
Awwww. To say that I’ll miss your posts is a colossal understatement. But I’m happy to have drunk the Kool-Aid and know that because of you, I am now a story genius–even if only in my own mind for now.
I’m not sure I know what I mean by success for myself as a writer. Originally it was to become published. I did that. Then it was to win an award. I did that too (though not as many or as prestigious ones as I’d like–turns out I’m not the Susan Boyle of writing). I considered what it might be like to be as popular as some authors I see on Facebook, and that made me jealous. So I have stepped back from FB and other social media and find I’m much happier.
I feel the tension between being a writer (one who writes) and an author (the public face of a writer, the one who promotes, and blogs, and charms the pants of of people who’ve never read her work). Not that I want to be an author, just that it seems to be the mark of success for a writer. I like writing. I don’t like everything that goes with being an author.
Luckily, I’m at an age where I don’t A) have the time to worry about building a decades-long career or B) need to live off the money I make writing.
So for me, I think success will be actually writing a second book. To prove I’m not a one-book wonder. Or if not a wonder, exactly, a one-book writer.
I wish you all the best and thank you so much for your willingness to share your genius with us here. I have learned so much from this community and am so happy I found it.
Lisa, I’ve been traveling, so excuse the late comment: I’ve always gained something of value from every one of your posts, and have often mulled over a story or character structure for time after. Thank you, with feeling.
As for success as a writer: the day I finally wrestle the semicolon to the ground, and he buys a round at the bar.
Lisa, I’ve been traveling and yet wanted to say I WILL MISS YOUR POSTS. But I hope to see you in Albuquerque at the Retreat through WFWA. Thanks again for your thoughtful help in all things novel-writing, Beth
Lisa, just picture this in your mind…this crazy redhead, tightly wound to your leg, dragging behind your every step, screaming “No! Don’t leave me!”
LOL. Keep in touch my friend.
Hugs,
Dee Willson
Author of A Keeper’s Truth and GOT (Gift of Travel)
Lisa,
I’ve learned so much from your posts here, your books, and your talks at the two Uncons. Thank you a thousand times over for your generous teachings! I wish you continued and huge success in your next endeavours.
For me, success is a small but never-ending aspiration: to open one reader’s heart and mind and enable them to see the world through someone else’s eyes.