There’s a popular quote floating around on the interwebs, stating that “comparison is the thief of joy.” I’ve never found a rock-solid origin for that quote, although it is most frequently attributed to Theodore Roosevelt. Frankly, I think it sounds a little too touchy-feely to have come from the uber-manly 26th US president, who likely would have said something more along the lines of “Comparison is the enemy, and I have whipped its sorry butt with a really big stick.”
Regardless of its source, the quote has become a bit of a mantra for those of us in the arts. Conventional wisdom is that comparing ourselves to others – particularly our levels of success (or lack thereof) – is inherently a bad thing.
That way madness lies, we are admonished (while we’re sourcing quotes, that one is from Shakespeare’s oh-so-cheerful King Lear). It’s not a competition, and there’s room for all of us, we are advised, so we should just focus on our own stuff, rather than comparing ourselves to people who are probably in completely different situations than we are. Seems like sensible advice.
Sooooo, how are YOU doing with the whole not-comparing-yourself-to-others thing?
Me? Not so good.
Seems like recently I keep seeing people who do what I do, but who are doing it more successfully, and I find myself thinking: I just don’t get it. Why are these people so successful? Is what they’re doing really considered good these days?
This in turn leads me to question whether my own sense of what is (and isn’t) good has fallen out of step with the times. Or maybe it was never in step to begin with.
I mean, what if I’m completely wrong about what constitutes good art? What if I’ve been fooling myself all these years?
From there, the spiral accelerates and I soon find myself diving headfirst into the dreaded Cronin Crisis of Confidence®. Fun stuff. Right up there with a long, luxurious root canal.
Let’s look at a few examples…
Case #1: The not-so-good writing colleague
About a decade ago I became casually acquainted with a writer who was working on her first manuscript. As we were both members of a writing group, I got a chance to look at her work-in-progress.
It was not good. Seriously not good.
But it was a very different genre than I write, and she never directly asked me for my feedback, so I wisely kept my opinion to myself.
Over the years we’ve lost touch, but I still encounter her online from time to time, and I have to give her props for diligence: She kept pounding away, producing numerous manuscripts, and eventually succeeding in selling a novel. I checked out a sample online, to see if her writing had improved. The verdict? Nope. I was shocked and disappointed to see that it was still not good. Then she sold another book. And another. She now has a bunch of books out, some on small-press imprints, others self-published. Some of them seem to be selling well. And every sample I check out reveals the same thing: Writing that I think is flat-out bad.
Case #2: The “do as I say, not as I do” teacher
I’m a professional drummer, and one amazing resource that was not available to musicians back when I was first studying the instrument is a growing number of instructional videos on YouTube.
In addition to providing a wealth of information to aspiring drummers (and bagpipers, apparently), YouTube also offers a viable platform for musicians to brand and promote themselves as educators, along with the ability to monetize their videos using YouTube’s advertising mechanism. Just like there are “Instagram models,” there are now a wide range of “YouTube stars” known for their educational videos. Some have millions of subscribers.
One such “star” is a drummer who’s not known for any major recordings or for being part of any famous musical act, but who has carved out a massive following on YouTube as a drum educator. To his credit, he’s a strong communicator, has a pleasant demeanor, and explores some interesting topics, often highlighting the playing of other, far more famous drummers. But all of his videos also involve him sitting behind a set of drums and demonstrating some musical concepts himself.
And here’s the thing: He is a crappy drummer. Not just a non-virtuoso – this guy is awful. Weak, sloppy, no conviction, NONE of the positive attributes he is pointing out in the other drummers he features.
Multiple times I’ve had to stop myself from commenting on this guy’s YouTube page. But years ago I made a resolution to stop arguing with strangers on the internet, which I manage to stick to most of the time. (Hey, I said most.)
Case #3: The far more successful writer
I saved this one for last, because I suspect it will hit home most directly. There’s a novelist who’s been recommended to me repeatedly as being “in my wheelhouse.” (Not owning any particularly large wheels, I might question the need to devote an entire house for sheltering such a device, but I digress…)
This particular writer is known for being funny and irreverent, and for writing thought-provoking stories that tackle some big social and emotional issues. Okay, you have my attention. Several of his books have been adapted for major movies and/or TV shows. Okay, you REALLY have my attention. Oh, and he sells a lot of books. Okay already – I get it.
So I tried one of his books. Then another one.
Here’s the thing: I’m just not that into him. I find his characters overly stereotypical, his plot resolutions simplistic, and one of his books featuring a female main character struck me as little more than an adolescent male’s fantasy of how women think and behave. Seriously, all the major female characters – despite having a wide range of body types – managed to have very attractive breasts worthy of detailed description, and were literally one cocktail away from becoming spontaneously bisexual with each other. And yes, this book has been made into a TV series.
Seriously, I don’t get it.
But since I’m the kind of guy who puts the “anal” in analysis, I’m not content to simply sit around not getting something. No, I need to obsess a bit – Roosevelt be damned (or whoever the hell thinks comparison is such a joy thief). So I did some obsessing about each of these cases, and would now like to share my findings with the WU audience. (What can I say? I’m a giver.) But first, let’s look at another popular aphorism.
Wow, you really like quotations, don’t you, Keith?
Another commonly quoted piece of Internet wisdom is that “80 percent of life is showing up.” The exact phrasing of this sentiment varies, and its source has many potential attributions, but currently Woody Allen is the leading contender, according to this self-described “quote investigator” (a person with whom I suspect I would very much like to party). The point Woody (or whoever) is trying to make is that the people who make stuff happen first need to show up. If they don’t, nothing happens. And that’s a scenario with which I am deeply familiar.
By comparison (there’s that C-word again), I found one common thread among the three people I singled out: They are showing up.
For example, let’s look at my first case. I still maintain that her writing is awful. But dammit, she’s writing. A lot. Which in turn makes me ask myself: Have *I* been writing?
Um, no. And when I look at why not, the multiple excuses I raise all basically come down to fear. Fear of making a wrong decision, of getting started, of wasting time on a book that doesn’t sell – you name it. I’ve been in a kind of “decision paralysis” for longer than I’d care to admit. Bottom line, as a novelist, I haven’t been showing up.
Okay, let’s move on to the internet drum guru who couldn’t play his way out of a paper bag. (Note: It would take a really, REALLY big paper bag to contain an entire set of drums, but perhaps I’m raising that point to delay the inevitable comparison to which I’m about to subject myself). With nearly 250 videos on YouTube, it’s safe to say this guy is showing up. Cursed with an inquiring mind, I am compelled to ask myself: Have *I* made any instructional videos?
Again, no. And again, the excuses begin to fly. There are far more qualified drummers than me out there, so who am I to put out videos telling people how to play? And hey, most video cameras I’ve encountered all seem to malfunction: For some reason they all make me look bald and overweight. (Must be a lighting thing.) Inevitably, as I analyze the rationalizations for my lack of an online drumming-video oeuvre (a word I still haven’t bothered to learn to pronounce), a familiar theme emerges: Fear.
Finally, let’s move on to Mr. Sells Way More Books than Keith. In my defense, I still maintain that he’s not all that funny, and fails to uncover truly deep insights. You know what’s next. Here come the questions: Have *I* written about sex as candidly as he does? Have *I* explored the sexual drives and issues of somebody outside of my gender like he has? Have *I* tackled big social issues the way he has? Have *I* touched on highly topical, youth-oriented subjects – you know, like this guy has?
No, not so much.
Excuses, excuses…
This time I have even more excuses. A plethora, even.
I mean, my daughter reads my stuff. How can I write candidly about sex? And if I did, how would other people react? They might think I’m a pervert, or repressed, or abnormal, or a prude, or, or, or…
And okay, I haven’t tackled the Big Issues yet, but hey, I’ve only written a couple of novels so far. (We will ignore the fact that Mr. Big Author’s debut novel was made into both a movie AND a TV series. His freaking debut novel. No, I don’t hate him. Not very much, at least.)
But hey – this guy is way younger than me, so he’s in a better position to write about the hot current topics, right? (Damn you, Wikipedia, for revealing that this guy is not even two years younger than me. And he still has his hair. Okay, now I hate him with the heat of a thousand suns. But in a nice, respectful way, of course.)
Variations on a theme
As you have likely noticed, a recurring theme has again raised its hideous head: Fear. I’ve got no shortage of excuses, but they all come down to me being afraid. And they all result in me not showing up.
But these three people I’ve been talking about? They are getting the recognition I crave (and let’s be honest: I must crave it, or why would I be complaining about other people getting it?). And one of the ways they’re getting it is by simply showing up. I might think I can do better, but I’m sure as hell not proving it.
Of course, I haven’t walked in their shoes, so I don’t know whether they experience the kind of fear that’s holding me back. I’m guessing they do, at least to some extent, because nearly every other artist I know experiences it in some form or another. But if they do, it’s not stopping them from showing up.
Dang, all this comparing *is* kinda thieving my joy. But I’m also learning something important from the process. I need to freaking show up. And as I ponder this, I’m realizing something else:
This applies to more than writing.
Think about the people we admire. People who are taking a stand about their beliefs and values. People who are living exciting, adventurous lives. People who are bearing unbelievably heavy burdens with a grace and determination we doubt we could match. People who actually go to the damn gym. What do they have in common? You know the answer: They’re all left-handed vegans. Okay, I’m kidding. The REAL answer is: They all show up.
So rather than making a whole stack of new year’s resolutions this year, I’m going to keep things simple. I resolve to show up.
I briefly thought about making that a pithy two-part resolution: Show up or shut up. But based on a statistical analysis of decades of my own behavior, it’s safe to conclude that shutting up is just not something I can do, so I guess I’m stuck with showing up.
Hope I see you out there with me!
How about you?
How do you react when you see people lauded for things that you just don’t get? Do you agree with my showing-up assessment as a primary driver for their success? Are you a left-handed vegan? Please show up in the comments section below (see what I did there?), and as always, thanks for reading!
About Keith Cronin
Author of the novels ME AGAIN, published by Five Star/Gale; and TONY PARTLY CLOUDY (published under his pen name Nick Rollins), Keith Cronin 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 squirrels with his ukulele.
Amen, brother! It’s so easy to be a critic when we’re not the ones showing up, right?
Loved this. :)
I hear you! And yes, I am left-handed … but not vegan. But I do love my veggies. And I have so many great excuses not to be writing right now (reading the newest post on Writer Unboxed should count as excused absence from my WIP, shouldn’t it?)
Thanks for this post, timely as always.
But I have to get back to my story, right? Have a great weekend! (At this side of the Atlantic, is is almost there!)
Loved this post! Thank you, Keith! I think we need to talk a whole lot more about stuff like this, the things we’re afraid to talk about because they might make us look like icky people—translation: human. Admitting, articulating, and owning those fears, justifications, defenses. And, as you say, the fact that people have different likes and dislikes, different tempos, different paths. Oscar Wilde’s quote (hey, another quote!) has become a cliche but that’s because, like all cliches, it captures a truth: “Be yourself. Everyone else is taken.”
Thank you, Barbara!
I’ve always loved that Wilde quote. My own personalized variation would probably be something like:
“Be yourself – I mean, who else would be willing to do it?” :)
Those are some hard nuggets of truth there, Keith! I needed to hear that, so thanks. I have definitely not been showing up in terms of writing. My excuses are different — I have all these *other* priorities, you know! And I’m working long hours — all that writing and thinking and decisions — and super tired! And… well, I can’t really use the fear rationale that so many writers have. I think I haven’t even gotten to fear; I’m still stuck at lazy and tired and unmotivated. Fear feels more like a next-level challenge. So: this is a good time to commit to showing up more! Just sitting down and doing it! Being less lazy and more committed!
Hey, maybe I’ll work my way up to being paralyzed by fear sometime this year.
Thanks, Joy.
An early draft of this post included a section on how sometimes it’s okay to not show up, because Real Life is simply preventing it. I cut the segment because the post was already reaching biblical length, but my point was that sometimes it’s okay to cut yourself a break.
Life happens. So I hope you’re not being *too* harsh in your self-evaluation.
Either way, here’s to commitment -that’s always a good thing for writers!
Hi Joy –
I recently read a post somewhere – maybe here? – pointing out that more often than not, being “lazy and tired and unmotivated” is really about fear as well.
The author pointed out that she felt exhausted when she sat down to write… and then energized when she gave up and moved on to some other activity. So the exhaustion was just a manifestation of the fear that kept her from writing.
Her post really hit home with me. I start to write a simple scene, get overwhelmed with how complex the rest of the story is, and suddenly can barely keep my eyes open.
So hey, at least you don’t have to work your way up to fear — you’re already there!
Great piece. My favorite corollary can be applied in any situation where “showing up” is on the table and I need a boost: “you can’t win if you don’t enter.”
Well said, pdd.
Wow, I could have probably saved a few hundred words in this post had I known that particular maxim!
I’ve been making so many excuses about a certain revision, it’s not even funny. The water heater needed replacing, the dog was going nuts, I had phone calls to make, reservations to check, gah. But last night, I opened another doc to work on a shiny new idea. I put it aside and opened that old ms…and it feels so good, like being an old love you should never have neglected.
Keith, you are spot on. It’s not comparison that steals joy but FEAR. Do you know when I was a small child, before age 6 or so, I had no fear? I am trying to return to that state–do it scared. I like your motto, show up or shut up. Thanks for the proverbial kick.
Btw, because of all the excuses I now also have a clean house and desk :)
Thanks, Vijaya.
Man, I *wish* I could leverage this show-stopping artistic gridlock into something constructive like that. But if there’s anything I put off even more than writing, it’s housework!
You definitely showed up for this post, Keith. I have had nearly all the same thoughts (the YouTube thing hadn’t occurred to me, but now it’s bugging me…) and you are right. It’s about showing up, not quitting, putting yourself out there. It’s about seeing our fears and saying, “Move aside, I’m working here.”
Great post. Makes me want to write this weekend!
First, a thousand points for the Three Amigo gif! Second, I really want to know who the super-successful guy is. Third, totally related to the whole post, through the decisional paralysis and into the realization about showing up. Nike isn’t too far off the mark with their “Just Do It” campaign. The problem is, well, just doing it. And I have to wonder if I’m “just doing it” at a slower pace and maybe instead of beating myself up for not being at the other persons spot of success and adulation, maybe I’m just taking a slower journey. When I realized that, I was able to let go of a lot of my jealousy and frustrations. That being said, I still have a problem keeping myself reliably writing, or making good food choices, or exercising, etc… I have no clue why I can’t be one of those “showing up on a regular basis people”, but I guess it’s my cross to bear and to learn to overcome. I told my mom the other day I needed to either show up or give up with writing for anything other than hobby writing, because all the half-baked trying is wearing on me. (To let you know, I initially wrote the previous sentence using swear words and it made a lot more sense than trying to write it out.) This goes for the positive food choices and exercising, too. Maybe that’s what it takes, I have to just get sick of myself? I don’t know. I’m still trying to figure it out. :D
Anyway, good luck to you and your resolution. I’m sure you’ll do it and then we’ll all be talking about how just showing up made the difference for you!
Thanks for sharing your thoughts, Lara.
Sounds like you’re encountering the same balancing act I struggle with: allowing for your journey to take its own pace and direction, vs. cutting yourself so much slack that nothing gets done.
Good luck to us BOTH!
“…all the half-baked trying is wearing on me.”
Same.
Yeah, gotta go All In or Get Out.
Nailed it, Keith. The left-handed vegan thing, of which I’m, er, not. Now, if I can get my gum-boot out of the mud, I’ll kick Fear in the butt. Thanks for this post. It’s time I showed up.
Great post, Keith!
I resolve to show up, too.
Keith, Keith, Keith. Envy. Disbelief. Disgust. I get it, but your thinking has some logical fallacies.
For instance, the not-so-good writer, who writes “in a very different genre”. You can probably already see the error in that. How can you compare not only your writing, but what you value in work that you read, to writing the audience and expectations for which are completely different than yours?
Those who cannot do, teach? Well, hmm, as a teacher of fiction writing I must humbly say…well, sure! What on earth requires a woodshop teacher to be a master craftsman of museum quality furniture? The dude’s job is to *teach*. That is a completely different skill set.
The successful writer whom you do not get…okay, that’s a hard one to swallow, and the hardest thing of all is to take an honest look at that writer’s work and recognize what is going right for readers. Twilight and Fifty Shades were widely reviled for their writing quality, but something was working for millions of fans.
What was working? Lisa Cron and I together dissected Fifty Shades here on WU, showing exactly what. Twilight is better written than most are willing to see, too. For fun, in workshops I used to lift a passage from Twilight and present it side-by-side with a similar passage from a highly-praised literary work. The difference–? Hardly any.
My point is that envy does not make one objective, analytical and appreciative. Remember too that even though a successful author may be writing stories similar to yours in genre, topic, style and so on, there nevertheless will be differences and ones you don’t like. That author gets some things wrong. Right?
That does not make the other author unjustly successful and you unfairly overlooked. It’s a challenge for you to do your type of story better.
And who knows, when you do that successful author will be asked to blurb your debut and will graciously do so, while privately grumbling “How did this whippersnapper get a juicy debut deal, a foiled ARC, and a top slot on a Big Five fall list? I DON’T GET IT!”
Don’t get it? Get over it. Show up…wait, that’s what you’re doing. Ah. Well, okay, I guess you do get it, Keith. As Therese says, write on.
Thanks for such a thoughtful response, Donald.
Envy is definitely at the bottom of most of this, I’ll readily admit, and this post was my attempt at poking holes in how I rationalize this kind of envy. The hope is that as I dismantle it from a logical standpoint, I might at some point get my emotions to follow suit.
I see your point about comparing across genres, but as a writer with fairly wide tastes, I’d like to think I can recognize good – and bad – writing across most styles. That said, there are definitely books I pick up where I quickly realize “wow, this is NOT my kind of thing,” and the author in case #1 does indeed fall in that category. So thanks for the reality check.
On the Youtube drum instructor, however, I will stand my ground. For one thing, I do NOT buy the “those who can’t do, teach” adage – and I’m sure you don’t either. But this guy presents his own playing as example of doing it right, and dammit, he isn’t. But my only real recourse is to do it even better. Which I totally could do, you know, if all those video cameras weren’t’ malfunctioning and making me look overweight and bald. Okay, moving on…
Wow, that’s a powerful point you make with the 50 Shades side-by-side comparison. It’s easy to cherry-pick bad bits of writing in almost ANY book, so a more objective, apples-to-apples review like that is very compelling to me. Well done, and consider me schooled. I’m going to steal that approach!
As far as the guy currently crushing it in the market where I want to be: all good points. And I have to acknowledge that his work is obviously connecting with people, despite any imperfections I might perceive in it. Maybe there’s a vacuum to be filled there. But I won’t know unless I inject something into that vacuum.
So I guess it’s time for me to get to work!
Thanks again – I always learn from your insights. You oughta try teaching or something. :)
Hey Keith – You mention drumming, which reminded me that I wondered about your reaction to the passing of Neil Peart. I’ve been thinking about him, and listening to Rush again, with renewed appreciation (for the first time in many years).
Also, did you know that he wrote? Like, over a dozen published books (fiction and nonfiction)? You might know that in the 90s he studied under Freddie Gruber, not just to learn jazz technique, but to deepen his own rock drumming’s resonance and style. He told Rolling Stone at the time that he felt “… a responsibility to keep getting better.” How many artists who’ve been cited with being at the top of their game humble themselves like that?
Peart also said, ““It’s about being your own hero. I try to never betray the values that 16-year-old [his younger self] had, to never sell out, to never bow to the man. A compromise is what I can never accept.”
In one moment, I feel like the man’s life makes mine look like a total slack-fest. In the next, I think that, yeah–I’m seeking to not compromise, too.
For me, this is an aspect of what you’re saying here. Because I too have been comparing lately. I downloaded a half-dozen of the hottest epic fantasies from the year-end lists, and I’ve started and set aside two of them so far. All while trying to take my own opening to another level. And–to be as honest as you have been here (thanks for that, very brave of you)–I keep thinking something along the lines of: “Really? This was the opening that sold this book? Not just to gatekeepers, but to the legions of fans that made it one of the hottest books in the genre?”
Maybe they’re just not to my taste. Maybe I’m just getting old. Maybe mine will (someday) cause the same reaction in other authors in my genre.
But there’s one thing that keeps me–as a longtime unpublished guy–showing up, year after year: I know it’s getting better.
No matter how hard the doubt wrecking-ball hits me, I get back up knowing, deep down, that I’m taking it to a level that I can be proud of. I can die knowing that I never compromised. And Neil’s passing helped to remind me of that.
I also admit that while I was reading your post (as much fun to read as it truly is), I kept equating “showing up” with putting my work out there (to the public). Which is something I often feel I’ve failed to do. But by the end, and after thinking about Neil, I realize I do show up. I keep seeking to make it better, by routinely seeking critique. And even showing up here, at WU every month, is worthy of acknowledgment (not to mention the kudos you deserve for really putting yourself out there, as you did today and routinely have in the past).
Thanks, Keith, for keeping it real, for the inspiration and the laughs, and for keeping us striving.
Thanks for such a candid and evocative response, Vaughn.
I don’t know if what I posted was actually brave, but I definitely felt uncomfortable sharing these not-so-noble sentiments today. But hey, I guess that means I’m officially moving outside my comfort zone, right?
Neil Peart was indeed an inspirational guy, on a variety of levels. You mentioned his conviction – that’s something his whole band (Rush) has in spades. I’m not a real fan of their music (never could take Geddy’s voice), but I saw a documentary on them called ” Beyond the Lighted Stage” that really won me over. Their utterly fearless belief in the kind of music THEY wanted to make – as opposed to what the record company was pressuring them to do – is a story that would inspire even a non-fan like me.
A couple other things you may not know about Peart: his life was filled with unspeakable tragedy, which he was forced to cope with under the microscope of fame. He channeled much of that into his writing, which was probably both excruciating and cathartic. And he was a true champion of drumming and drummers; never presenting himself as the be-all-end-all, and always eager to share the spotlight with every new drummer he encountered who impressed him. He truly walked the walk in terms of a superstar maintaining his humility.
But let’s get back to you. Having known you for some time now, I can safely say that “slacker” is not a word I’d use to describe you. Don’t fall into the trap of letting the arbitrary criteria of published-vs-unpublished negate the validity of ANY of your efforts.
You’re showing up, believe me. Keep it up!
Ah, Keith, you snuck into my brain and revealed some of my deepest thoughts. I believe we all have them, as your many responses reveal. So yes, there is that SHOWING UP cure. There is also belief in what you do. And all of this reflects other aspects of living. You can’t stay trim and active if you don’t do activities that fulfill those desires. You can’t expect to publish…unless…
but the day has begun and I’ve got words, sentences, paragraphs to create…
Thanks, Keith, for one of the most instructive and entertaining blog posts I’ve read.
Here’s another quote for the Showing Up collection:
“Everything you want is on the other side of fear.” – Jack Canfield
Thank you, Kay.
Love that Canfield line! I blow hot and cold on some of his other teachings, but he nailed it with that one.
I understand and have lived nearly every word of this funny post, Keith. Well, except for the drumming or bald part, and I’ll pass on those, thank you very much.
In general, we humans don’t like to invest a ton of effort into something with a perceived low cost: benefit ratio. The only answer–at least for me–is to make my investment smaller. Aim for ten minutes of writing a day and see what emerges, the hope being the WiP gets its tentacles into you and holds fast.
Thanks, Jan – and I agree that your current hairstyle beats mine. Keep workin’ it!
I find THIS fascinating:
“The only answer–at least for me–is to make my investment smaller.”
Wow, the logic of that approach is inescapable, but your rationale is utterly new to me. That’s really interesting, and something I must give some serious thought to, because I’ll admit that one of the things I fear most is wasting time (we will ignore the irony of how much time I’ve wasted by NOT writing).
Thanks for the most unusual take on this that I’ve seen in a long time. And good luck with it!
Some years back a writer friend of mine, after some serious publication success, became so self-conscious/perfectionist about her writing that she ended up blocked. For nearly a year.
Fear.
She and another blocked friend made a pact — they committed to writing just one sentence every day. One sentence.
But that one sentence flowed on to two and then three and more, and soon they were both back to writing several pages on most days. But they never upped their commitment or, if you like, their “investment” and maintained their commitment to just one sentence.
I think it worked because the hardest thing about writing every day is to start — it is for me, anyway — in other words , showing up.
Thanks for an inspiring and honest article.
Yup. That was a good one.
OMG! You so nailed it!
Thank you for the kick in the A**
Keith, I am left-handed, and I once ate some vegan cheese, so while I’m not insulted, I’m mildly peeved at your statements. While chuckling too. I’ve taken comparisonitis to hospitalization levels before, so I can nod my sorry head in concert with your lamentations.
But, your curative (and purgative), showing up, yes. This is valuable, this is a breathing lesson, this is hope in the face (or other parts) of subjecting yourself to too much analysis. Showing up = deposits in the existential bank account.
By the way, free of charge, I have determined your next course of action: doing the drumming instructional videos, but making them standup (or in a drummer’s case, sit-down) routines. You make volcanic with the drumsticks and then you run through your favorite funny riffs too. You already have the Rodney Dangerfield licks down. And you can even do the “bada bing bada boom” on the drums after your punch lines. No, don’t thank me…
Thanks, Tom –
Your “bada boom” idea gave me my first true laugh-out-loud moment of the day!
“… one of the ways they’re getting it is by simply showing up. I might think I can do better, but I’m sure as hell not proving it.”
This took a lot of self-reflection, Keith. You’ve overcome half the battle. You’ve acknowledged your flaws. Now, fix them. One by one, knock down the barriers you’ve created for yourself, and be the artist you want to be.
And think of the bright side, Keith. Those of us with hair have an immense disadvantage. We lose a minimum of ten minutes of writing time per day. That’s 3,650 minutes a year–61 hours a year. Goodness gracious, man, you can do a lot in 61 hours. :)
Hugs
Dee
Thanks, Dee – hugs are always appreciated.
Great – now I have 61 more hours of non-productivity to be held accountable for! In my defense, I probably spent some of that time trimming my beard. Just sayin’.
I watched a TEDTalk recently that talked about classical musicians and the ones we remember most, produced the most work. Were all of the works genuis? Oh, no, but they kept on even when they miserably failed. Their mindset was all about the passion and thrill of producing the work instead of being concerned about the response to their work. And I love that attitude. It’s like they’re saying I love this stuff so much I just keep going and refuse to let the response to my work paralyze me. What an empowering way to think! And maybe that’s what connects with readers, the writers obvious and fearless passion for the art, divorced from its reception. That said, this post so resonated with me; you unearthed truths we all think about as creatives and don’t talk about. And the sign of a great piece is when it makes the reader want to change how she thinks about the artistic life and you have done that with me. Thanks so much!
Well, there you go, an old foggie doing the what-happens-when-I-press-this, the number of Likes go up. Huh, seems a bit too easy a way to say my thanks for someone’s writing, esp. in a writers posting. So hence my version of ‘showing up’:
A most excellent posting by Keith and an terrific tactical solution (focus on the joy of getting it done more than the worry about its acceptance) offered by Karin.
H/t all round.
Hi Karin – This is a really inspiring perspective:
“I love this stuff so much I just keep going and refuse to let the response to my work paralyze me.”
I need to keep that in mind more often, because I *do* love this stuff.
But then you humbled me with this statement:
“And the sign of a great piece is when it makes the reader want to change how she thinks about the artistic life and you have done that with me.”
Dang, I’m honored. I’m glad you found something useful within my ramblings. Thanks so much for sharing your thoughts, and for making me feel a little better about sharing mine.
Holy, moly, Keith. This one hit me hard. I’ve been doing a lot of not showing up and yeah. Fear.
Damn.
And thank you.
Great post!!
Damn. You already trademarked Cronin Crisis of Confidence®?? So now I have one more thing to be jealous of?? (PS Thanks for a great post, which reminds us all to JUST SHOW UP.)
Also, I’ve just thought of a new acronym: FOSU.
Wonderful article! Thanks for writing this. I love that quote: comparison is the thief of joy.
Well, hmm. I’m two days late to the discussion, but I have to take exception to the notion that showing up makes the difference between the success we have and the success other people have and we want.
Because to me, showing up seems like a given and a very low bar. Anyone can show up. That’s not asking much of ourselves. That’s not asking enough of ourselves.
What motivates me, not yet published as I am, is “I can’t fail if I never quit” and “how can I make this better?” “This” being whatever story, chapter, page or paragraph I’m working on at the moment. “Make it better” might mean revision. Or deletion. Or more research. Whatever I need to do to get to my vision of “better” on the page.
Am I envious of other writers? Sure. Am I envious to the point where that will distract me or deter me from “can’t fail if I never quit” and “how can I make it better”? No.
Despite my disagreement, this was an inspiring column to read, forcing me to focus on this issue and form my own conclusions. Another step toward “better.”
Thanks for weighing in, Marcie. You’re not wrong about this:
“…to me, showing up seems like a given and a very low bar. ”
That being said, I offer this:
Regardless of that bar’s height: A) *I* haven’t been getting over it (or whatever one does in relation to such a bar), and B) if I don’t, I can’t compete.
That’s my reality. I’m glad it’s not yours, nor did I mean to imply that it reflected everyone’s situation.
Great post, Keith. So let’s both show up for a drink or coffee soon and talk about this stuff and having you as a guest speaker at WNBA next fall or winter.
Maybe artists need to remember VanGough sold only one painting in his life, and that was a fluke. Creating art and selling art are two way different things. Since it seems to publish one must ‘sell’ to a agent or house and get past so called gatekeepers, perhaps writers are best suited to ‘getting to it’. If you like quotes apply this; “shotguns get more birds than snipers.”
Write, write a lot, on may hit.
to Mr. Maass’s comments, I agree with good teacher’s theory but I agree with the fact poor writing slips through the selection process. My take would be that good stories often win over good writing.
‘Go compare’ – the worst advice ever, unless you’re trying to find an insurance policy. There is no insurance policy for writers – only SHOW – aka bum on seat/hands on keyboard.
I feel compelled to comment on your fine post, Keith, even though I seldom do on anyone’s blog-post. I’m 77, which makes me an outlier on anyone’s scale. Nevertheless, here goes: I retired in order to write stories, i.e., novels and short stories. Before that, I wrote non-fiction books, which frankly requires that competitive mindset you speak of, as the publishers demand that the writer says what, who, and why he/she is competing with. Fiction, not so much, as here you have to stand on your characters, voice, story, etc.
I retired 20 years ago in order to tell stories, something I’d wanted to do since college. Early on, fortunately, I decided to write what and how I wanted to without comparing/competing with anyone. In that time I’ve completed six novels and a book’s worth of short stories, without submitting them anywhere. My gratification is internal and from the several critique groups i present them to. That’s been quite satisfying and has kept me from offering them to a wider audience. I write for the love of it. Nothing else measures up to a day of doing good work. Whether or not on re-reading I feel that, “Hey, this is good!. . .or shit.” If it’s the latter, I get to re-work it, which in itself is satisfying. Nothing is wasted; it’s a fine experience.
Over the past year I decided, what the hell, I’ll put my stuff out there. Run it up the flagpole, so to speak. So, I self-published three of the novels. And what do I find (which I already knew)? Writing is, perhaps, less than half of the job; you have to market yourself in many ways, which change as quickly as the internet changes, with the newest, greatest thing coming down the pike seemingly every week.
More marketing, less writing, much less joy. So, I’ll market (compete) for awhile more until I get sick of it. Then I’ll try to get reacquainted with my muse. Za zen.
OMG, this was SO worth reading. And now I’m going to check out your work. VERY funny and right on target. Thank you, sir, and flick that little devil off your shoulder. Fear’s got no right to be there–you are talented!
Thanks for this, Keith. Apart from not being a bald drummer with a daughter, I could have written it.
… But I didn’t, which is kinda the point, right? Overcome the Fear (or ignore it). Show up. Do the work. And Put It Out There.