Submitted For Your Consideration

December 2009

The Wisdom of Bill Withers

One thing about making a career in writing -- there are no guarantees of great success. Of course, a lot of it depends on the kind of writing you do. If I were to, say, focus on copywriting, I'd have a much better chance of doing quite well, financially and otherwise.

But to even dream of making a career in fiction writing -- that's essentially like making a living from gambling. You're probably more likely to win the lottery than become a bestselling fiction author.

Thing is -- I don't even care about becoming a bestseller. (Well, not that much, anyway.) If I could simply make a living from writing fiction, I would feel like I'd really accomplished something.

So, many of my efforts have been focused on that goal. As a result, I've spent an extraordinary amount of time and effort on marketing, networking and promoting my work -- primarily my novel, IDENTITY CRISIS.

Along with that, I've been searching for every possible venue in which to sell the book. Seems like every time I turn around, there's a craft fair, trade show, book festival or other event where I could sell books.

At times, it feels like my book has become a huge dependent -- as bad as any child, in terms of demanding attention.

When this whole process started -- that is, when the novel was reissued last July -- I had all sorts of marketing ideas. My intent was to work on each, one by one.

The reality is that when you're marketing a book, it's not a neat, clean or orderly process. You tend to find and grab at opportunities as they come along.

As a result, it seems my mind is constantly awhirl with thoughts of what I should be doing next (what's on my schedule; what needs to get there; what I haven't tried, but could).

It's occurred to me that I simply can't do everything. But it doesn't seem to stop me from trying.

So, what keeps me from completely burning out? Two things.

First, the knowledge that I can choose what to do and what not to. When I started law school, I tried to read everything the professors mentioned. I suffered constant free-floating anxiety that I wasn't learning all the material and, since they didn't test you on it until the end of the semester, you could never really be sure until then.

After about five weeks of going nuts with worry, I finally told myself, "Look. You can choose to drive yourself crazy or choose not to drive yourself crazy. It's up to you."

I chose not to. I decided just to do the required reading, show up for class, take notes and (most important) quit worrying so much.

I think it's time to renew this philosophy when it comes to my writing career.

Which leads to the second thing: the wisdom of Bill Withers.

Several months ago, I read a short Q&A interview with Withers in The Washington Post (p. E2 of the June 14, 2009 issue, if you're interested). When asked if he had no interest in making a comeback, Withers replied:

You know, this whole music thing for me was something that came into my life after I was formed socially. So it was fun, it served its purpose, I still like it, but it's not my main focus. In fact, it hasn't been for a long time. There are other requirements. You're somebody's father, you're somebody's husband, you're somebody's friend. And for me, it was important that I not neglect those other requirements just to satisfy some personal need that I might have for approval or attention from people that I don't even know (italics added).

All right, maybe it helps that he's already made his mark as a musician. Still, those italicized words haunted me. I wondered, what sacrifices am I making to seek the approval of people I don't even know? Are they really worth it? How can I pursue the career I want and meet those other requirements Withers talked about?

If nothing else, his thoughts serve as a reminder to keep my real priorities straight.

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