Success Vs Successful

Last year I sat in my daughter’s bedroom with the door closed and locked, headphones in place and computer open. It was the only way to find a quiet, alone space in the middle of the summer to complete a pre-publication interview with an online radio program.

I couldn’t be in my room—no—they’d expect that and show up with requests for snacks or entertainment right at the moment we went on air. I couldn’t be outside because it was hot and…once again…they’d find me. They always find me. So, my daughter’s room was the perfect hiding place.

As we started the interview and the teals and pinks of her room lulled me into a sense of comfort and relaxation, it felt like I was having a conversation with an old friend or fellow writing buddy. I chatted with the host about how just a few years ago I had no idea that my publishing dreams could ever become a reality.

We talked about all the amazing surprises that met me along the way to publication. We talked about balancing life with four kids and work, and I giggled knowing that if I told the bold truth that “hiding in my daughter’s bedroom” would have to be listed among my strategies. But then, in the middle of our super casual chat, he laid one question on me that I didn’t expect. With a slight hitch in his voice, he asked me, “So, what does it feel like to be a success?”

I paused, the air kicking on and a rustle outside the door making me worry I’d been caught. The phrase repeated in my head.

A success. Hm.

Sure, at that point in my career I had two bestselling books with one more on the way. I’d sold over a million copies of my first two books and had a contract for two more. I’d been on the Wall Street Journal bestseller list, not once but twice as well as hitting the Amazon Charts and bestseller lists as well. On top of some tangible markers of success, I’d also found great excitement in receiving emails or Facebook messages nearly every single day from readers who connected with my stories and my characters making me feel like my work was appreciated and well received by readers.

Okay, I could see why he asked the question but then why did it sound so strange to hear that phrase “a success” used in the same sentence as my name and career?

Maybe it was because the way he said it, with a casual finality, that made “success” sound like I had reached the top of a mountain or clicked the last piece into my puzzle and now my job was done. A brief image popped into my mind of me up on a perch, tilting my crown to the people still working their way up my previously trodden path and knowing that I’d “made it.” I shuddered, and not from the cool air filling the tiny bedroom. That image seemed very foreign to me. Gosh, the idea was very foreign to me, too. I guess I’d never thought of success as a place you end up.

As I tried to make a fumbling response, I reflected on my writing journey and how the idea of success had always been a moving target for me. When I first started writing with the purpose of completing a manuscript, “a success” felt like writing “The End” to my first story—WRECKAGE. But, when I reached that goal, success felt like finding someone who enjoyed reading it.

From there my idea of success changed almost weekly. One week it was editing the manuscript to be more concise and polished. The next month it was writing a query. Then getting a request. Signing with an agent. Signing with a publisher. Publishing my book. Readers enjoying my story. Signing a second book…and on and on and on. The cycle continued and never once did I sit back and think, “ahhhhh, I made it!”.

I haven’t had just one success but thousands. I’ve also had thousands of missteps—but like a light in the darkness—success cancels out the failure, or perhaps grows from it. Then there was the undeniable fact that, if I’m honest, at least half of the time I felt l like I just got lucky. But whether these accomplishments grew out of luck or hard work and ambition, they all came together into one thing—a varied and fulfilling career.

Suddenly, there was a scratch and rustle on the other side of the door. They’d found me. My six-year-old pressed her mouth under the door and whispered through mashed lips, “Are you done yet???”

I held up my finger like she could see me through the locked partition and tried to gather my final thoughts.

“Actually, I don’t want to be a success,” I blurted out, perhaps a little too decisively. The host let out a surprised “oh” on the other end of the phone line and I rushed to explain, hoping the tapping at the door wouldn’t turn to pounding in the time it took me to clarify. I explained that becoming a success was not a workable goal for me—it’s often a mirage anyway. I told him that I was more interested in becoming successful.

“Huh,” the interviewer responded, quieter than he’d been during the rest of our discussion, apparently not following my convoluted conclusion.

I didn’t end up getting the chance to explain my answer that afternoon as the one little voice under the door became four, and I knew my oh-so-clever hiding place had been exposed. He thanked me for our discussion, asked me for the links to my website and where my books could be purchased, and we said our goodbyes.

As I opened the door from my author job to my mom job and the kids flooded in with their requests and complaints, that question nagged at me. Maybe I was mincing words. Maybe I was running around in a mental circle. Maybe I read way too far into the question—okay, that one was true. But to this day I stand by my answer. For me, my writing career isn’t about one single triumph. It isn’t about one celebration or even one book. It’s about all of it. The whole dang lot. Because life isn’t about being “A” success. It is about being FULL of successes. Because it isn’t a destination, it isn’t a finish line—success is a state of existence.

—

EMILY BLEEKER is a former educator who learned to love writing while teaching a writer’s workshop. After surviving a battle with a rare form of cancer, she finally found the courage to share her stories, starting with her debut novel, “Wreckage,” followed by the “Wall Street Journal bestseller” “When I’m Gone” and “Working Fire.” Emily currently lives with her family in suburban Chicago.

www.emilybleeker.com

https://www.facebook.com/emilybleekerauthor/

https://twitter.com/Emily_Bleeker

About THE WAITING ROOM

From the bestselling author of When I’m Gone and Working Fire comes a gripping novel about a mother, her missing daughter, and the dark secrets that engulf them.

Ever since her husband’s death collided with the birth of her daughter, postpartum depression has taken hold of Veronica Shelton. She can’t sleep, can’t work, and can’t bear to touch her beautiful baby girl. Her emotional state is whispering lies in Veronica’s ear: You’re a bad mother. Your baby would be better off without you. But not everything can be reasoned away by Veronica’s despair. Can it?

After all, the break-in at her house happened. The disturbing sketches she found in her studio are real. So is the fear for her daughter’s safety—especially when Veronica comes home to a cold, silent nursery and a missing baby.

As she turns from victim into primary suspect, Veronica realizes that only she can find her daughter. Authorities aren’t helping. They’re only watching. Veronica’s concerned mother has suddenly vanished from her life. And a new friend seems to be keeping secrets from her too. Now, reality is waiting for Veronica in a dark place—because someone’s mind games have only just begun.

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