The Dirty "C" Word, Part II

When we last left our heroine, she was sticking her toe in the contentious waters of Debunk, calling an unclothed emperor naked...about the "dirty word" that so much of creatives' social media is quick to abase. I'm sure you've all seen the posts that go something like this:

"The longer I write, the more I know the secret of really being successful in it--realizing we're not in competition with each other. We're all in this together. What benefits one of us benefits all of us. So when you succeed, I celebrate!"

Doesn't this sound wonderful? Doesn't this sound unselfish, and noble, and accomplished?

Yeah. It does. Only when I see one of these "evolved" souls spouting this sentiment, I have all I can do not to type back:

"Well, Petunia, I'm thrilled you want to celebrate my success, and I'm happy for yours. But don't think for a minute that that means we're not in competition with each other. We are, and we will be until the day one of us kicks the bucket. So stop trying to pretend you've reached some exalted level of enlightenment, and admit it."

By now, many of you may think I'm mistaken about which "dirty C word" I'm talking, and I'm actually dealing in cynicism. If I am, it's because another perfectly good, innocent word has taken way too much undeserved rap, and I'm simply fed up with nodding and smiling along to something I know originates from the posterior end of a bull.

The question is how competition became such a "dirty word."

The obvious answer is that we're being manipulated to feel like we should take the "enlightened" road. We should be mellow, and detached, and unfailingly positive. Above all, we're told repeatedly, we live in an "infinite universe" of possibility, and success isn't like a pie--giving someone else a slice doesn't mean there's less left for me. "A rising tide raises all boats." Right?

Um. How do I put this tactfully?

WRONG. 

 

The plain fact is that we don't live in an "infinite universe" of possibility. 

Yes, human beings have infinite potential (given to us by an infinite God). But our world is FINITE. As in, it has LIMITS. 

If a NYT bestselling author or some celebrity with a tell-all signs an 8-figure contract, that does nothing for me. 

That particular "rising tide" doesn't raise my boat; it swamps it.

Because the money that goes for that book...by definition...cannot also go for mine.

Harsh, but true.

We all know this. So why are we afraid to say it? If we openly admit we're competing, and that we want to "come out on top"...does that somehow taint our art? Make us an evil person? Render us "less worthy" for the universe to reward?

CAN wanting to come out on top taint your art? Sure. If your "want" becomes such a driving force that you're ruthless about bending or ignoring rules, cheating, walking over people and/or using them to get your end results.  Heck, it's not just tainting your art in that case; it's tainting your life.

CAN competition "make" us evil? Only in the sense above. But even that's not competition's fault. Remember the adage "Adversity doesn't make the man; it merely reveals what he truly is"? The same goes for competition. It doesn't "make" someone evil unless he or she's got a streak of evil already inside that's just waiting for an excuse to take over. And even then, in a person with sufficient character, that evil won't get enough of a foothold before he or she draws a line in the sand and calls her/himself to account.

CAN competing in the marketplace--wanting to win--render us "less worthy," somehow, of "cosmic reward"?  Put aside for the moment the fact that the "universe" can't give out rewards in the first place (because it's a created thing without power of its own); that alone negates the question. But even without that consideration, if the notion that you're not "worthy" of something unless you pretend not to desire it sounds silly to you...it's because it is. Even the Bible says, "Ye have not because ye ask not." Competition--setting our sights for something, declaring a clear want, and determining a course of action to win it--not only isn't evil; it's Scriptural. If you doubt this, look up the Epistles and count how many times Paul talks about "running the race" and "winning the crown."

"But there's enough to go around for everybody!" you cry. "Why do we have to talk about 'winning' and 'losing'? Why can't we just 'compete' with ourselves?"

Because the truth is when it comes to material success in the marketplace, we know--because we have common sense--that, many times, there really isn't enough "opportunity" to go around for everybody. 

Probably the clearest illustration of this I can give you is traditional publishing.

Publishers have X number of slots available for X type of books. If mine and yours are both the same kind of book, and they're being shopped to the same publisher...it's only human nature for you to hope your book "wins" and mine "loses."

Is that because you wish me ill? I hope not. Is it because you're an evil person? I would assume not. It's because only one of us is going to get that slot.

That's not "scarcity thinking." That's a simple mathematical and economic fact.

Acknowledging that fact and working with it will take you a lot further than trying to resist, fight, decry, condemn, or deny it. And it'll sure take you a whole lot further than the "participation ribbon" crowd thinks you can go.

Best of all, though? The real secret?

Competition is one of the best ways to make--or deepen--some whiz-bang achiever friendships.

It's a well-known phenomenon that athletes can be the best of friends off the field--and enjoy nothing more than beating each other on it. Brothers (or sisters) are the same way. And there's nothing hateful about it: it's a simple desire to "be one better" than those you know the best and respect the most. (Not to mention the good-natured bragging rights element!) If it does become acrimonious in some way, often that's because things happen outside competition that affect the relationship negatively--NOT because one person was striving to be better than the other. 

Long ago, a mentor of mine was asked by her husband why she helped new writers. "You're training your competition," he pointed out. "Why would you want to do that?"

Her answer was genius.

"Because," she replied. "Do I want to be the best writer in a group of mediocre ones, or the best writer in a group of really good ones?"

That, ladies and gentlemen, is why competition isn't a dirty word.

It, in fact, is a gift from God. It keeps us on our mettle. It makes us constantly look over our work, learn and grow, so that when that slot opens up at a publisher, they'll say yes to us. And, yeah, we know that by saying yes to us, they'll say no to someone else.

But there's nothing evil about that, unless we turn it into a way to hurt people.

And it doesn't have to demotivate anybody, unless they're ready to let it.

So maybe we should stop treating our fellow artists like hothouse flowers...and just admit that we'd relish winning a slot in a publisher's catalog--or getting more 5-star reviews for our self-published work--when "pitted against" someone whose talent, work, and personal friendship we esteem highly. And give them the permission to feel the same way right back at us.

That's what we're really "in together." In competition. In a race for a crown.

I'll be glad to cheer you on...but someday, I want it to be my turn, too.

And I'm going to do everything I can to make that happen.

Thoughts?

Janny

The Dirty "C" Word, Part I

Okay, now, don't get too excited.  Of the many "C" words that might occur to you, the word I'm talking about today isn't actually risque--except, perhaps, in the minds of fellow creatives.

That word is...competition.

(Some of you may need to sit down and fan yourselves at this point. Feel free.)

A pretty ridiculous notion has taken over the creative world of late. This wouldn't be surprising, in itself: creative people can be just as ridiculous as uncreative ones. But this notion has been embraced so rapidly, completely, and radically that it borders on the closest thing to religion some of these people have. And fundamentalists ain't got nothin' on them when it comes to upholding this shining credo, and shaming those who dare to challenge it.

The notion?

That as writers, we don't compete with each other, because "we're all in this together."

Whoever came up with that notion? Ought to be taken out back and doused with cold water. In January. In the Northern Hemisphere. 

Because it's simply NOT TRUE.

Let me say that again.

Wonderful, warm, and affirming as it sounds to say that all creatives are "in this together"--and therefore, never, ever, ever, ever, EVER in (gasp) competition with each other--it's NOT TRUE.

Real life experience will prove this over and over and OVER again. It's even common sense, not to mention backed up with fact. 

But just try going on social media and saying that out loud.

Go ahead. I dare you.

This blog post is even stepping out on a ledge.

So where did this cockamamie notion come from? 

I suspect it has its roots in a couple of sources.

First, the influence of New Age thinking, The Secret, and all the rest, which preaches a "limitless universe" and scolds us against a "scarcity mindset." And, in one sense, this has some veracity. Publishing, after all, has become rather limitless; you can put together a book and "publish" yourself, any time you like. You simply have to have the resources to cover all the details involved, from buying ISBNs to cover art to copyright registration (just to be on the safe side), and voila! You're a published author. You're independent, you collect all the profits yourself, and no one stands in your way. 

In terms of publishing "freedom" and "access," this is great. In terms of quality?

Yeah. Sometimes, not so much. 

(But the few times I've said that out loud, I've gotten raked over so many coals that no wonder my skin gets thicker every year. Never mind that it's true; it still gets the kind of knee-jerk vitriol we used to reserve for animal abusers and serial killers. 😒)

Second, I believe it comes straight out of the participation-ribbon mindset: that people should be rewarded and applauded merely for showing up, breathing, and standing upright. That heaven forbid we should dare to say one thing is "better" than another, or that one "wins" and another "loses." The self-esteem damage of losing does terrible things to our young ones' confidence. It demotivates them. It depresses them. It can damage them forever, and forever keep them from achieving their true potential. Potential, according to these people, needs constant affirmation, watering, nurturing, reinforcement, and praise in order to develop fully. Any negative assessment of efforts to do so? Any aspersion cast on them, or evaluation of them that is less than glowing, or constructive criticism of them? Will bring about certain disaster. Maybe even physical damage, but certainly emotional. And, hence, tragedy.

Apparently, potential--be it writing talent, musicianship, artistic endeavor, or anything else--has no strength in itself. If not coddled like the proverbial hothouse flower, it will wither and die before it even takes root. Young (or even not-so-young) artists are to be celebrated for effort, and rejoice in that the only people they're "competing" with are themselves. 

Only problem is...that ain't how the real world works, Karen.

And it's long (DAMN long) past time someone was brave enough to say it out loud.

Before the denial of reality does way, way more damage and breaks way, way more hearts than that evil competition monster could ever do in a thousand lifetimes.

I'm here to tell you that not only is competition not an evil monster...

...but that we're all doing it, all the time. And it's long (DAMN long) past time we realized that, admitted it, and put it to work for us, instead of trying to shame it out of existence.

We'll talk more about that in part II!

Janny

What's It Like?* (*the noncompetitive life, that is)

Yesterday I was e-mailing an associate when I came out with the thought: You know, I spend more than half my waking hours teetering on one edge of rejection or the other. What do people's lives look like who don't compete for anything? Would I even know how to live a life like that? And it started me thinking. Especially since I sang an audition last night and didn’t get the solo. Not that I haven’t been through this gut-wrenching experience before. Heck, if I’ve been through it once, I’ve been through it dozens of times. It’s part and parcel of a business like music…or writing. But at what point do you say enough is enough and stop trying so hard? Or is it ever a good idea to stop? And then what does your life look like when you do? I have to confess: I don’t know what that kind of life would look like anymore. I’m not even sure I can wrap my mind around it, because I have lived my whole life, in one sense, on the edge. No, I don’t do daredevil stunts (well, okay, I like rollercoasters)…I don’t spend 18 hours in an operating room fixing things that other people consider incurable…I didn’t embed myself in a war zone to be on the “front lines” of any particular battle. In short, in a way, I don’t “do” anything dangerous. But in a bigger sense, “dangerous” has many forms. Emotionally, I’ve been in a danger zone for most of my life. Some of that wasn’t of my own making…but in the realm of competitive professional “chances” I continue to take—it is. I put myself on the line on a regular basis, doing two things most people will never do: I sing in public, and I submit writing for publication. And the great majority of the time, those to whom I am submitting or auditioning for a “step up” say NO. There are gigs where you have an assured route to success in both of those endeavors, of course. If you go to journalism school, and you’re reasonably coherent, you will probably be able to latch onto some small newspaper, broadcast outlet, or (now) a web site, and work your way up the “ranks” in the field. Sometimes, with a few breaks, the jobs start coming looking for you; that’s the best place to be. Same goes for music…to a point. You go to a good school, you study with good teachers (this kind of element is much more important in music than in journalism, from what I’ve seen), you sing or perform with certain performing bodies…and you get a gig. Or two. Or a dozen. And then, once again, the gigs come looking for you. There’s also a difference between wanting to be a success at something and wanting to be the BEST. Wanting to stand out. To be a star. And, with the amount of talent I’ve been given, I feel I owe it to God, to myself, and to the world, to get to darn near that last level. Not worldwide fame, necessarily—but substantial achievement. From whom much is given, much will be required. But in both the fields of singing, which I am in, and novel writing, which I’m also in, the gigs that come looking for you are way fewer and farther between…and stardom is almost statistically impossible. Yet I feel I have to try to get there. And that’s what turns this into agony at times. That’s what makes one wake up, look in the mirror, and say, “What in the world am I doing to myself?” You see, sometimes, you do everything right, and the right things still don’t happen. Or they happen in small ways, but you never “get over the hump” and get the Big Success. You keep giving yourself pep talks, you keep trying, you keep chanting to yourself that it’s a “numbers game,” and the odds will eventually be in your favor… …but this goes on for years. Then decades. And the odds never change. You never quite get to that real success, as you’ve defined it. You never get to that point where you feel you “should” be, where you “ought to” be, where you’ll have given all you have and “the universe” will have rewarded it. Then what do you do? When is it time to step off the edge? To back away from it? To stop deliberately putting yourself through those highs and lows? Some people say if you’re in the highs and lows in the first place, you’re going at the thing wrong. That it truly is, simply, numbers. Or it’s “who you know” (or, in the case of music, more likely “who knows you”). Or it’s dependent on things you can’t possibly control (which it is), so just keep showing up. But when does “showing up” become an embarrassment to you and to others? What’s the point at which people stop admiring your persistence, and just wish you’d go away? When have you moved from “persistent” to pathetic? I, for one, am tired of moving through life with a figurative hat in my hand. “Please, sir, may I have some more?” I’m tired of trying to act “professional” and cool as my heart gets broken…again. I’m starting to wonder if I’m fooling myself about the level of talent I actually possess. But most of all, I’m scared. Scared on one hand that if I stop, I’ll have come up the proverbial “one step short” and “just miss it.” Most of us have had that drilled into our skulls so much that it’s part of our marrow now. We can’t quit, even if we’re tempted to, because we’re haunted by the image of stopping just short of the pot of gold. And I’m scared on the other hand that reality, and age, will finally catch up with me…and I’ll run out of “one more steps” to take. In the case of singing, your body’s ability to produce beautiful sound DOES eventually take a hit. If you have excellent training, which I did, that hit doesn’t have to happen too early. But it does happen. It will happen. Even I had excellent training a little late in life. So my breaking point may come that much earlier. On the writing front, obviously, the same physical limitations don’t apply. But once again, the rigors of repeated trying and failing take their toll on one’s creative spirit. Eventually, one starts to go from “wow, this is a great idea” to “well, maybe it’ll fly.” The passion leaves. The fire is gone, and you lack the flint to start it up again. I’m starting to wonder if my breaking point, in both areas, is coming already. Or has come, and no one’s had the heart to tell me. And if I’m moving into that “pathetic” realm, and just don’t know it. The feedback I’m getting on the quality of what I do—in both worlds—doesn’t say so. But the gigs I’m not getting are telling a different story. The question is…what do I do if I stop competing? What becomes of my talent? Have I let everyone in the world, including God, down? What’s next? Ideas? Janny