Friday, December 2, 2011

Fail-yours too

I wonder if failure and success work in the same way that heat and cold do, the latter not being something in and of it self, but simply a lack of the former. For instance, failure can also create a place holder, make space for future success. I wasn't able to write the short story before December 1, but I did double up on the writing for the novel. Ultimately, I fell short of my goal, but I don't feel any worse off for it. An artist friend of mine spent the month creating many, many pieces, the goal being a number with three digits. When she was finished, she said, "I think in the future I need to set more unobtainable goals," a statement whose wisdom could only be observed through scrutiny. In any event, the writing this past weekend went well, and not so well. That is to say perfectly.

A business meeting of mine got cancelled, the first of any of its kind. A person I was introduced to wanted to discuss with me the topic of ghost writing. It took me a days to even agree, and weeks after that to wonder at what sort of things I should be bringing to that table. Some authors I knew had mixed opinions about the subject. A few even remarked their distaste for ghost writing, citing it as inherently dishonest. I had to admit that that had never occurred to me, but that it was easy to be disgusted about with some thought. I work at a school, and one of the things beaten into young minds at every level is that plagiarism is a capital offense (yet they say great artists steal). Either way it all stayed academic, because the meeting got cancelled. Or should I say rain-checked, so I guess the jury is still out on my feelings on the subject. I like that I've grown into someone who will try something, or at least listen to a reasonable presentation.

The outline is projecting forward into the new year, and I'm happy with what I'm set to accomplish. At the beginning of the year, it was a goal to complete four books. I'm done with three, and am a good bit into the fourth. It doesn't look like I'll be finished by the stroke of midnight, but I still come away satisfied. Then again, my blog numbers have also slipped considerably when compared to last year. I wonder what to think. I wonder what to think, and then I usually end up writing, which keeps me satisfied.

But I was speaking of dissatisfaction, of pushing for the sake of the brink, and at what point does one's frantic pace cease to be a good thing and became negative? And at what point does a dip in productivity become complacency?

All I know is that I don't know, a favorite quote of mine. I have a few others up on a wall at work, in a small room with a desk people are starting to call my office. One, recently thumb tacked, was a nugget mined from the essay of one of my students. Short, yet poignant: maybe we're not broken.

Maybe nothing's wrong at all. 

No comments:

Post a Comment