In Praise of Passionate Persistence
By Kristin Hacken South | May 23, 2024 |
One of my favorite reads as a child was a delightfully clever and funny book called The Phantom Tollbooth. In it, a bored and world-weary young man named Milo passes through a magical tollbooth and is drawn into adventures with a companion called the Humbug (literally a bug) and Tok, an enormous dog. Near the end of the book, the following conversation occurs:
“There was one very important thing about your quest that we couldn’t discuss until you returned.”
“I remember,” said Milo eagerly. “Tell me now.”
“It was impossible,” said the king, looking at the Mathemagician.
“Completely impossible,” said the Mathemagician, looking at the king.
“Do you mean—” stammered the bug, who suddenly felt a bit faint.
“Yes, indeed,” they repeated together; “but if we’d told you then, you might not have gone—and, as you’ve discovered, so many things are possible just as long as you don’t know they’re impossible.”
— The Phantom Tollbooth, by Norton Juster
As a literal-minded child, I didn’t understand this conversation. The no-longer-malcontented Milo has just completed an impossible quest. How can that be, though? If he accomplished it, by definition it was possible, right? So why did they say it was impossible? Clearly, something was afoot and I spent years trying to reconcile the disconnect.
A few years later, as a wide-eyed teenager, I came across this gem:
The future belongs to those who believe in the beauty of their dreams.
— Eleanor Roosevelt
I loved this quote at once. It went into my little book of precious truths, alongside other favorite quotes. I read it as a “you go girl” kind of affirmation: Eleanor was telling me that my dreams were beautiful and worth pursuing. I dreamed and I believed. The future was mine.
The combination of these two ways of thinking led me to the assumption that anything was possible, even things that seemed impossible, as long as I believed. When it came to writing, nearly forty years later, I believed twice as hard. All my life had led to this. I would just write some wonderful things; others would recognize their brilliance; all those years of longing and unrequited belief would be vindicated.
(Yes, I hear you laughing. I’m laughing too, in the crying-and-tearing-out-my-hair sort of way.)
I don’t see initial naïveté as a bad thing. For many a beginning writer, a belief in the beauty of her dreams can propel her through the shock of her first honest feedback from more seasoned writers and past the pain of a hundred rejections from agents and editors. There comes a point for those who persist, though, when naïveté yields to the reality of the publishing business: to misquote a classic source, we eventually learn that it is easier for a camel to pass through the eye of a needle than for a new writer to find an agent and publisher. So now what? Was the future never as beautiful as she had imagined?
Last month I wrote in praise of broad interests and experiences (you go, Thomas Young!). Today I want to circle back around to Champollion-level focus and persistence.
When I joined my second critique group (I’m now on my third), all eight of the members were fairly young in our writing. All of us were unpublished and none had an agent. We met weekly and took turns submitting pages and sharing tips about the publishing world. During that time, I went to a conference where a prominent YA author told us about her critique group: none of its members had been published when they started; now all of them had successful writing careers. You, too, can have such an outcome, she said.
Impossible, said the Mathemagician inside of me.
Not so fast, Milo countered.
Two of the members of that critique group have since published traditionally and two others have gotten agents. One runs a service for authors, having realized her greatest joy comes in organizing and cheering others on; another refocused on newspaper journalism and now regularly publishes widely read and discussed articles. They’ve defined their dreams in ways that work for them. Through marriages and divorces and childbirth and cross-country moves and accidents and health problems, they’ve persisted. They’ve found and lost or fired agents and found new ones. They’ve gotten big breaks and seen them vanish. They’ve kept going anyway. (The other two members of the group are no less talented; they’ve just had life take them in other directions for now.)
I’ve recently added a new quote to my little book of inspiration:
Don’t quit. It’s very easy to quit during the first 10 years. Nobody cares whether you write or not, and it’s very hard to write when nobody cares one way or the other. You can’t get fired if you don’t write, and most of the time you don’t get rewarded if you do. But don’t quit.
— Andre Dubus
I’m in my eleventh year of writing. I have now come to read Eleanor Roosevelt’s quote not as a statement of value but as a description of cause and effect: people who believe enough in the beauty of their dreams take the steps to make them happen. That’s why products like pink pompom paper clips and the Rubik’s Cube exist, and why pet rocks used to be a thing. Someone had the audacity to dream it and the persistence to bring it into existence. If pet rocks had their day in the sun, why not your novel? Maybe it’s as niche as wearable gamer chopsticks but maybe it’s the next Rubik’s Cube. You won’t know until you finish it.
I’m not here to throw shade on pink pompom paperclips but to advocate for early career writers to cultivate enough belief in the beauty of their dreams to turn the impossible into something not only possible but realized. Genuine belief, as opposed to wishful thinking, originates in a clear-headed calculation of costs and permits flexibility in the shape of those future outcomes. So many things are possible, as Milo learned, just as long as you don’t know that they are impossible.
So don’t quit.
How do you keep yourself from quitting in the face of difficulties? How do you navigate the gap between your dreams and your sense of the possible? How do you feel about pet rocks?
Kristin Hacken South is happiest on the days that she works on her fiction, which to date has included a few short stories, two middle grade detective stories, and two adult novels. She lives in Atlanta, with three independent book stores within walking distance of her house. Her idea of a good time is still a day in the desert with a trowel in one hand and a notebook in the other.
[coffee]
Hey Kristin — First, I think it’s the awesome that you hung onto, and reused, that quote like you did. Norton Juster would be delighted. Part of the passion that fueled my persisting was definitely wrapped up in dreams of publishing success. It’s funny, but now that I’m publishing books, I can see how much more the journey has added to my life. Even without the success I’d dreamed of achieving, there’s so much value to what I’ve spent all of these hours striving to master. Maybe it was a trick, perpetuated by some guiding spirit, because if I’d known I might have quit. If so, I’m okay with it. I forgive you, guiding spirit, for the misdirection. :)
Always love reading your essays. Please persist in producing them. Thanks.
It’s always a pleasure to hear from you, Vaughn! Your comments invite so many conversations about art and its purpose(s). Thank you!
Kristin, I think those of us who are writers are born that way. Whether we publish widely or write quietly for ourselves, we will always be writing. The internet provides an audience in some ways, whether it is just an idea we share on FB or a long story shared in a group. To me, writing is never unworthy. Yes, we all have our likes and dislikes. There are novels I read and cherish. There are some….But that is creativity. That’s why we are various in our choices, our thoughts and what we place on the page. And to answer your question…I will never quit. Writing is me. Thanks for your post.
You are right about writers writing! I personally distinguish between writers and authors. Writers are all of us who do it because we must, for intrinsic reasons, while authors have external motivators as well.
Terrific piece, Kristin. I second Elizabeth’s sentiment. Writing is me. And writing is never unworthy. Onward to those dreams….
I confess, ever since I started writing this post, I’ve been humming “The Rainbow Connection” (and hearing Kermit the Frog) — “somebody thought of that, and someone believed it…” Here’s to dreaming!
Love this piece. Well done! I’m an author who did the impossible journey but also a long-time teacher and coach of adult writers and I would hand this piece to every one of them if I could. Good luck with whatever is next for you!
Thank you. Congratulations on your Milo-esque journey and please do share widely! :)
Thank you for this wonderful, affirming post. You could have been talking about me. After 17 years, next year (at 71) I will publish my debut YA novel. If I hadn’t persisted in the face of nay-sayers and rejections it wouldn’t have happened.
Wow! Congratulations and hats off. That’s impressive persistence right there!
Whoa, whoa, whoa, wait a sec here – there are gamer chopsticks??? Alright, now that I’ve added that to my birthday wish list….
What sound encouragement you offered on believing in one’s dreams and working to bring them to fruition. So often we proclaim belief in one of our projects, but that doesn’t automatically extend to a belief in ourselves. We might think the premise, characters, plot, whatever that we’re working on solid, but we still doubt our ability to get things right. With so much self-doubt, is it any wonder we consider our dreams unattainable? It’s smart to have a plan and as you say, to be flexible and open to other opportunities. And, to be persistent!
True story about the chopsticks. I entertained the idea of linking to them, but with so many brands and options, how’s a non-gamer to choose?
You are so right about belief in ourselves as a key ingredient. Extending this post to talk more about that aspect is the likely topic of my next post. :)
Kristin, thank you for this inspiring, thoughtful post! As you write, “Anything was possible…as long as I believed…I would just write some wonderful things; others would recognize their brilliance; all those years of longing and unrequited belief would be vindicated,” I am not laughing. I’m thinking that you DO write wonderful things, that we DO recognize your brilliance, and we — your future readers — are anxiously waiting for your stories to be released into the world so we can buy them and read them. Please keep writing and please keep believing! That gap between dreams and the possible is narrowing every day.
Thank you for your kind affirmation! When I was moaning (again) last week to a writer friend about my unpublished status, she reminded me that these posts are published. Your comment reminds me that they are not only published but read!
Hi, Kristin. Thanks for this inspirational post. And I love the quote by Eleanor Roosevelt. The biggest challenge for me is when my dreams of publication collide with the harsh realities of the publishing industry. The odds of publication are daunting, even for experienced writers. If an author writes to be published, and that dream goes unfulfilled for many years, there is a natural tendency to give up. I don’t write to be published. My motivation is internal. My advice to any aspiring author is: write, write, write. Learn the craft. Connect with other fiction writers. Read widely in a variety of genres. Make a lifelong commitment to writing and professional development. Thanks again for this thoughtful post.
Yes, you bring up a whole host of issues, many of which have been noted by authors with enough experience in the publishing world to confirm that it’s a bleak landscape out there. I think part of the necessary death of naïveté is a consciousness of the internal reasons for continuing to write when it becomes clear that the traditional markers of success are rare and arbitrarily conferred.
I love the powerful truth in that children’s story. If you don’t know something is impossible… if you don’t know that you can’t…I suspect this is the foundation of magic. The real kind that people generate when they believe in the beauty of their dreams. When they stay the course and learn to trust in Allah but to also tie up the camel. To learn the rules of the game while also cultivating an untethered imagination. Both/and, not either/or. This is a joyous post, Kristen. An ode to those who dare to be persistently outrageous!! Thank you.
When I look at some of the books and products that succeed at getting a marketshare, it often seems that the only thing that differentiates them from others is that their makers just kept coming. And I agree about magic (and about tying up camels)!
Kristin, I love your post, the wisdom of Phantom Tollbooth, the Eleanor Roosevelt quote (copying it now), and doing the impossible. Last year, when I added recorder and barbershop in addition to singing in two church choirs, my choir director asked whether I could do it all. I told him that I didn’t know unless I tried. And so I did. Practically speaking, my experience follows this quote by St. Francis of Assis: “Start by doing what’s necessary; then do what’s possible; and suddenly you are doing the impossible.” And I came across a delightful Audrey Hepburn quote: “Nothing is impossible; the word itself says I’m possible!” I have four pet rocks sitting on my desk, each with a word: Peace, Courage, Dream, Remember. Thank you for reminding me to persevere in following the dreams God has placed upon my heart.
Oh, if pet rocks include rocks with inspirational quotes on them, then I have one too! It says “Be excellent to each other.” Wisdom can come from many directions. :)
I love the Phantom Tollbooth! This was such an inspirational post. And I’ll leave you this classic quote:
“Believe. I know it sounds like a cat poster, but it’s true.”
Thank you!
Great stuff!
Once I realized I was not a fraud, just a rookie, and even Mark Twain and Stephen King started out there, the only reason to quit was if I found something better to do. And I haven’t yet.
If I had a pet rock, I think I’d put it in with the plants I don’t have yet either.
Thank you so much for this, Kristin.
You bring up a good point: I used to imagine that everyone walked around under a cloak of imposter syndrome, and then I got more experience at what I had found so hard to do. Now I know that newbies are not imposters or frauds. They’re just rookies, and rookies grow into experts as they continue in what they do. Thank you for the reminder!
Fantastic points all around. I was studying today and came across the phrase “prosper by degrees.” I feel like this describes exactly what you’re describing here and it’s my new motto for this year. Thanks for the shout out. I admire you so much and am so excited for all you are doing to build the writing community. 💕
It’s great to see you here at WU, Janelle. Yes, “by degrees” is a great description of that process of gradually finding the rewards of persistence. Thanks for coming by!
Kristin, thanks for sharing the quote from Dubus. It really picked me up. Every word rings true, especially, for some reason, today. I’ve copied it in my notebook section of inspirations and advice. (Along with poet Martin Espada’s “Never pretend to be a unicorn by sticking a plunger on your head.”)
I really love that Dubus quote, too. He’s serious about the ten years! As to the unicorn, I now see that I’ve been going about things all wrong for years…Why oh why did no one warn me!
Kristin, I love this post and all the ways we find inspiration for our work and its continuation. My first date with my husband was to a Borders children’s section, where we read each other our favorite children’s books and learned much about each other. (I won’t lie—mine was P.D. Eastman’s Are You My Mother?) But your post made me think of another book that I just wrote about in my craft book on story movement, and after reading your post today, I’m going to amplify those ideas for my next WU post. I’m hoping you’ll start a trend here: how my writing life began in childhood, even though I didn’t yet know I’d identify as a writer!
That sounds like an amazing first date. “Are You My Mother?” was my first favorite book at age two. When I came back to it as an adult writer, I found that it conforms perfectly to a standard story arc and was even more impressed. I’d love that series about early influences!
Kristin, you so well captured the thorns and the roses on the writing bush, but gave us inspiration to keep smelling the roses, even if you have to lean in there with those thorns. Or something like that.
I loved The Phantom Tollbooth, right up there with Harold and the Purple Crayon for wild and gratifying rides of the imagination. Thanks!
The Phantom Tollbooth was such a revelation to me. I never knew books could be so playful. Subtraction soup and division dumplings! A “watch” dog! And I still love the image of the woman sitting at her radio and listening to her program of curated silence while Milo stands by with a word literally on his lips. Can you tell that I read it again and again? :)