Post by Carol Buchanan
Part 2: Your Definition of Success
It’s been a long time between posting Part I, the “Introduction.” But here at last is part 2 – “Your definition of success.” – and it is.
Success is how you define it.
And it’s different for each of us.
In the publishing business, writers often define success as selling a mega-million copies of a novel and making a million bucks, like they imagine John Grisham does with his legal thrillers.
Or like nonfiction author Richard N. Bolles, the author of What Color is Your Parachute?
When I wrote a book on Native American horticulture (Brother Crow, Sister Corn) for Ten Speed Press, Bolles’s publisher, they tucked my title into their catalog and forgot about it. They didn’t need to do any more promotion because they already had their franchise book, the consistent, enormous best seller that keeps the publisher afloat.
And deservedly so, I might add. The Parachute has guided job-seekers for more than 50 years to find good, better, or dream jobs. I used it, too.
But few of us in any field of art or craft hit the bullseye like Mr. Bolles, or Mr. Grisham. Or Picasso, or Bob Dylan, who won a Novel Prize for his consistent output of hit and great songs.
Yet we hopefully bring our year’s work, made with all our craft, skill, and love to the ACF Shows, where we offer smiles and hope to people who wander past, sometimes with hardly a bare glance in the our direction.
As if by catching my eye, I’ll force them to buy something.
But if I holler, “Merry Christmas,” or “Have a great day,” they have to respond. Very seldom do they walk on as if they haven’t heard. Even if they don’t stop, maybe they’ll feel a little brighter and remember the bookseller who cheered them up.
If so, that’s a bit of success for me.
Or if I offer them a bookmark – because every book they read (except e-books) needs a bookmark – they have accepted a piece of advertising.
Little do we know it, but while dreaming of a successful show, with pots of money to deposit in our bank accounts, even in our disappointment, we are successful.
Yup. You read that right.
No matter what, bringing products to the shows to sell marks us out from the population who did not have the courage to do their level best to make the things our hearts direct us to make. And then spend the time to offer them to people who maybe couldn’t care less.
But the world sees success in terms of money in the bank.
I see it all the time in the publishing world. But I’m no best seller, no millionaire writer.
Me? I’ve won a few awards for my writing, and I’ve had a great deal of fun with my books. And I’m always solidly in the black. My books pay their bills (and a few of mine).
But I’m no millionaire. I’m not a household name.
I’m a success, though. Because I’ve defined success for myself. IRS doesn’t define it for me. Nor does comparing myself to Grisham or Davis Bunn (another mega-seller, in the Christian market).
I’m a successful writer because people seek me out at the shows to tell me how much they enjoyed the book – whichever one they’ve read. (Sometimes all five.)
Or like the man who told me he “fell in love” with Martha, the main female character in all the books.
The books have given them an enjoyable experience. And because the books are historical fiction, maybe they learned something about early Montana.
It’s like the person who buys huckleberry jam. They have loved the taste of the jam and the sensation in their mouth. So they buy more – or we hope they do.
So the question is, with the show over and leftover stock has to be stored, have we had a successful show?
I won’t answer that for you.
You have to develop your own definition of success. Whatever it is, you can achieve it.