It’s been a long time since I’ve written much of anything
that hadn’t already been approved by editors. Too long, in
fact. For months now, I’ve lived and died by the approval, or disapproval, of
someone who would pay me for my work. But I’m realizing that there is
still tremendous value and release in writing, you know, for the love of
writing itself. Quite a concept, I know. But I've been losing sight of it.
So, my hope is that I’ll start writing more regularly. About
life. About my fears. About my triumphs. About anything that doesn’t
necessarily fit under the umbrella of “something that might earn me money
somewhere.” And what I want to talk about today is exactly that – trying to actually
earn money while doing what I love, and about seeking approval for my passions.
How is your book
doing?
Since I finally released my first parenting book last month,
it’s the question I’m often asked. And let me be clear that I appreciate the
interest. When you’ve spent literally years working on something and dumping
your time and heart into it, you want to know that people are consuming it,
enjoying it, invested in its success. But if I’m being honest, it makes me
pause every time I’m asked. Because the truth is that I’ve sold 31 copies. I’ve
been joking that I’ve already paid off my mortgage and bought a yacht. But
there’s a bit of sadness in my voice. Because deep down, it’s not a joke. My
goal is to one day have my writing
actually earn enough money to support my family. And when I’m promoting the
book entirely by myself, with no publishing house and its marketing tools
behind it, that goal is so far I can’t even see it. At the risk of making this
a “poor me” post, it’s a problem many of us face, not just me. The difference is that not
everyone is transparent enough to discuss it in a public space. But then again,
I’ve always been a bit of a camera hog.
For anyone who considers themselves creative, there’s a
certain percentage of energy that goes into the creation of the “thing,” and
then another percentage that goes into getting it to the rest of the world. In
my experience, it works generally the same even if it’s an album, a painting, a
podcast, book, etc. You spill yourself into the creating of it, stand back and
analyze it for a while, then at some point you decide you’re done. Then it’s
time to send your baby into the universe. It’s scary. Because you’re putting it
out there. Your words, your art, your
ideas, whatever it is. You’re putting something you exclusively created into
the hands of a judging public. But regardless of your trepidation, you release
it. Because you know there’s a chance, albeit a small one, that what you’ve
done might just be the most incredible piece of art ever created.
Most of the time (read: all of the time) what you’ve created
is good, but won’t reach the audience size you have in your head. So, what
you’re left with, to use the baby comparison again, is a child with a world of
potential who is never truly recognized for it. Surely, you love them just the
same. But it feels like a great injustice.
You want the world to love it as much as you do. Doesn’t always work
that way. So, we have to sit there and accept it, while still pushing forward
with unrelenting passion. It’s exhausting, frankly. Although, we have little
choice but to wince through the process, graciously accepting half-hearted hugs
along the way.
I have a friend who routinely challenges me. When I conclude
a creative project, he always asks the same question.
What were you hoping
to get out of this?
Most of the time, I have to be honest, I’m not sure. I just
know that finally letting go of that project often feels unsettling. I’m left
with two simple words that settle in my brain like an unwanted house guest.
Now what?
For many years, I performed in rock bands, locally, and it
always amazed me how some of those bands (and friends’ bands) would disassemble
so soon after completing an album. We all worked so hard on this, I would
think. Why are we walking away from it? Looking back, it makes more sense than
I realized. After all that effort and time away from our families, friends,
other interests, etc., we’d realized the outcome didn’t match our expectations.
Clearly, that realization was too much for some to handle.
These days, not much has changed. A month ago, I wrote and
co-produced a series of comedy video shorts about parenting. Mostly, they were
met with indifference. I don’t know what I expected – instant fame and a spot
on Jimmy Fallon or something? But for me and my writing partner, it deflated us
completely. We still haven’t restarted production on new episodes.
Maybe all those times I (or others) walked away from a
project that wasn’t yielding benefits, it was for the best. After all, it saved
us from having to endure months or years more of that same, empty feeling. But
maybe my “challenger” friend is right. Maybe we need to stop seeking
justification and approval from those around us, and simply do. If only it were as easy as that.
So, am I alone on this island? I imagine not. Feel free to
share your thoughts (and strategies) around pursuing a dream that seems
increasingly less attainable. And let’s see if we can’t help each other push
our babies out into the universe with more satisfaction and less expectation.
-jdp
Follow me on Twitter @JoeDeProspero
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