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I am lucky as anything.
It's not just that I'm lucky as anything to have sold a book, though obviously there's that.
I spent a long time trying to convince myself that there was no single external validation that would ever make me believe that I was Okay. Because the evidence doesn't matter at all. If you're already certain that you're not Okay, success just proves (a) you have a certain amount of natural talent, and can achieve some success without even trying, but obviously if you were really trying you'd have succeeded more; or (b) you have somehow managed to fool people into thinking you're better than you are; or (c) the measure of success wasn't a very good one to start out with.
I was frustrated and discouraged with myself because, as a college sophomore, I couldn't read handwritten classical Japanese. I knew that was a completely unreasonable expectation, but I couldn't let go of it. But at least it made me realize that my expectations for myself - which were, literally, that I would always be effortlessly good at academics - were not totally in line with reality. And then I got an article accepted in a peer-reviewed journal and decided that the journal, therefore, must not be a very good one.
I could keep doing that to myself forever. And I didn't want to. And - it's not as if I've been able to get away from it completely, but I've gone a long way towards losing the expectation that if I just achieved this one thing everything would be all right.
I think that's very seductive for writers, that belief, because publication looks like a bright line dividing the winners from the losers. But it's not. You can keep moving the goalposts forever, hoping that the next achievement will be enough validation.
So, it's strange. I don't feel particularly different or validated, I don't feel like my life has changed - although I'm considering how it may change - but I feel very lucky that by now I've mostly managed to let go of the illusion that I would get that moment of validation.
It's not just that I'm lucky as anything to have sold a book, though obviously there's that.
I spent a long time trying to convince myself that there was no single external validation that would ever make me believe that I was Okay. Because the evidence doesn't matter at all. If you're already certain that you're not Okay, success just proves (a) you have a certain amount of natural talent, and can achieve some success without even trying, but obviously if you were really trying you'd have succeeded more; or (b) you have somehow managed to fool people into thinking you're better than you are; or (c) the measure of success wasn't a very good one to start out with.
I was frustrated and discouraged with myself because, as a college sophomore, I couldn't read handwritten classical Japanese. I knew that was a completely unreasonable expectation, but I couldn't let go of it. But at least it made me realize that my expectations for myself - which were, literally, that I would always be effortlessly good at academics - were not totally in line with reality. And then I got an article accepted in a peer-reviewed journal and decided that the journal, therefore, must not be a very good one.
I could keep doing that to myself forever. And I didn't want to. And - it's not as if I've been able to get away from it completely, but I've gone a long way towards losing the expectation that if I just achieved this one thing everything would be all right.
I think that's very seductive for writers, that belief, because publication looks like a bright line dividing the winners from the losers. But it's not. You can keep moving the goalposts forever, hoping that the next achievement will be enough validation.
So, it's strange. I don't feel particularly different or validated, I don't feel like my life has changed - although I'm considering how it may change - but I feel very lucky that by now I've mostly managed to let go of the illusion that I would get that moment of validation.