Celebrating Success
Succeeding (at Writing) on Your Own Terms
Not for Naught
I say it all the time—that writing is a process. You write a draft and revise, and then you revise some more. And you do this again and again, with occasional ebbs and flows, until you have a polished draft, something that you’re happy with, excited about, and ready to submit somewhere.
But what often gets lost within this process is the process itself. There’s often a distinct focus put on the end product—is the piece “good”? Does it work? The subjective answers to these questions can be deflating. All that hard work for naught.
Only it’s not for naught. Not (or “naught”?) at all!
Success doesn’t have to be something huge; instead, success can be the little steps along the way. Sure, publication may be the ultimate goal, but there’s a lot to celebrate along the way.
Celebrate Wins on Your Own Terms
Society paints certain pictures of what “success” is, what it looks like, and, quite honestly, it can be disheartening. So we need to learn to celebrate wins on our own terms, not on somebody else’s. We need to try to let go of somebody else’s version of “success” and recognize that even though our own successes may not look like somebody else’s, they are still valid successes.
If you’re looking for a job and you submit your resume somewhere, that’s progress, regardless of whether you even get an interview or not.
Likewise, if you submit a story to a literary journal—or a novel to an agent or prospective publisher—this is a win, something you should be proud of and celebrate, regardless of whether your work gets accepted or not.
Because if you don’t try—if you don’t submit—there’s almost* no chance of getting an acceptance.
*I say “almost” because solicitations do occasionally happen. In fact, the very first story I ever had published (which you can read here) was not a story I’d submitted anywhere; I’d been exchanging work with a writer I’d met at a conference, and they happened to show it to a journal editor, who then asked if they could publish it.
At that point (2016), I’d had a few poems published—and had even won $100 in a poet-of-the-month contest—but I hadn’t yet started submitting stories. The process for getting that first story published had been deceptively easy. It would be three years before I’d have another story published.
But what happened within that three-year period was also exciting, and, even without publishing, there was lots to celebrate. There was a goal, too: I was working on my MFA thesis, a collection of stories. But the end result was less about the product and more about the learning involved in getting there. While a few of my thesis stories have been published, for the most part they remain untouched, put away for the time being, as most of them need substantial revision. The culmination of that time spent writing and learning was, for me, the real success; the thesis itself was irrelevant (aside from it being a requirement for my degree).
Valuing the Process
More and more, I’ve come to learn the value of process (and to prioritize it over product). To understand how I can help writers better, I’m currently reading Critique Is Creative by Liz Lerman and John Borstel, a discussion of the Critical Response Process (CRP; developed by Liz Lerman). I’ve already started working on ways in which I can adapt CRP to editing, and it is also already influencing the ways I offer feedback to writers on more informal terms as well. The focus is less on what the end result of a creative project may be and more on helping the artist meet their vision for a piece. In other words, it’s about understanding (and respecting) the artist’s process and offering feedback based on what they, the artist, want feedback on (no “fixits” or unsolicited advice allowed).
Understanding and respecting an artist’s process is important because generating work does not immediately produce a product (assuming “product” in writing is something publishable). In fact, often our writing work is just practice or exercises that help us improve. Writing is process; it’s not product. Thus, shouldn’t our goals and successes reflect this?
It can take years for a book to get published; it can even take years for a story to get published. And if a particular story doesn’t ever get published? Does that mean it was a failure? Of course not.
In fact, through the process of writing, revising, and submitting, you will likely gain valuable insight and experience. You will improve as a writer, and that’s something to celebrate.
So, again: why not focus on the smaller successes throughout the process?
Going Behind the Scenes
As writers, comparing ourselves to others can be, at times, motivating and necessary, but true comparison can also be discouraging. It’s important to acknowledge (and congratulate) others’ successes without having it mean that you’re somehow less of a success.
The truth is that we don’t see what goes on behind the scenes. We don’t know what another person’s process—or life—is like.
Case in point: I have struggled with depression for thirty years. It’s not always noticeable to others; they don’t see the days when it may take me three hours to get out of bed, when my energy level is so low that I may only have a few hours of productive time in my day, typically hours in which I need to focus on work (because bills, mortgage). When I’m faced with a to-do list that’s a mile long, things like laundry and dishes often have to take a backseat to everything else.
But what other people see may be someone who can’t keep their place clean, a person who’s perpetually behind (and stressed)—and they can’t understand it. My mom, who also suffered from depression, understood it and was my ally; but now that she’s gone, I often face snide comments from those close to me. I’m frequently ridiculed. How hard is it to do laundry? Why can’t you put those dishes away?
But those offering unsolicited judgments are not understanding the process; they’re only looking at one thing—and deeming it (me) either a success or a failure.
The reality is that success often happens on a much smaller scale; we can’t just look at the end result.
For a person with depression, getting out of bed may be a success to be celebrated. Taking a shower may be a success to be celebrated. Texting a friend may be a success to be celebrated. The amount of energy that is involved in these seemingly simple tasks is often enormous, though others don’t see that.
Writing is much the same.
Takeaways
Celebrate the writing of a first draft of a new piece. (Depending on the length of what you write, maybe success is getting the first 500 words on a page. Maybe celebrate every 500 to 1000 words.)
Celebrate each submission. Again, it doesn’t matter what the outcome is; it only matters that you try. (See my previous post about rejection.) As of this writing, I’ve received 45 rejections in 2023 and seven acceptances. I celebrate each acceptance, of course, but several of the rejections weren’t straight rejections. One story was long-listed in the Brilliant Flash Fiction writing contest. Another story received a surprising personalized positive rejection from a paying journal with an extremely low acceptance rate. Another positive rejection included the note that “it was a close decision.” To only focus on rejection is to miss the larger picture, the same way that focusing on what a depressed person cannot do is missing the larger picture.
Celebrate each revision or each breakthrough. I recently pulled out a story that I hadn’t looked at for about 7 or 8 months. I had submitted it a few places, it had been rejected, and I had put it away for a while. Something was still missing from it, but I didn’t know what. After a break from it, I was able to approach it with fresh eyes. The result was something I was much happier with. It may still get rejected (out for submission now), but I’m still celebrating the breakthrough I had. It’s progress.
In fact, celebrate putting a story away for a while if it’s not being well received or if you’re not sure what to do with it. Avoid forcing things. Understand your own process and recognize when you need a break from a piece.
Celebrate each learning milestone. Whenever I read, I learn something. Whenever I take a workshop or class, I learn something. Whenever I talk/interact with other writers/artists, I learn something. You don’t have to learn huge new things or glean major insights, and you don’t even have to apply what you learn to your writing directly. Simply celebrate the effort you’re putting into self-improvement. To this end, being part of a writing community, whether virtually or in-person, can be beneficial.
And, of course, celebrate acceptances/publications!
A Quick Note on Goals
I think it’s important to have writing goals. I’m currently working on a chapbook collection as well as another, more involved, project that I hope will eventually be a full-length collection. But these two goals have morphed over time; a year ago, these goals looked completely different.
When it comes to goals, it’s important to stay flexible and realistic, to keep goals within your control. For example, a goal of submitting once a week is probably more realistic than a goal of getting a specific story published in a specific journal within a specific timeframe.
You might have “tiers” of goals. For example, I have a list of “goal journals” that I keep in mind when I’m writing and submitting; the list has changed over time as I’ve hit certain goals and added more journals to the list. But realistically, it could be years before I’m published in some of these journals; therefore, in the meantime, I set more manageable goals. “Lower-tiered” goals, if you will. They’re just as important.
Remember that writing is a process; improvement is a process. Your successes are unique, just as you are unique. Celebrate them.
Prompt
What writing goal(s) will you set for yourself after reading this post? What successes will you celebrate?
You are always offering great support and insight. One of my goals was to finally start my own writing workshop and I am in the process of doing that!