We can all picture it: the wide-eyed kid with little more than a backpack and a dream steps off the Greyhound in Hollywood to become a movie star--even though no one has ever heard of him. And his acting ability hasn't progressed much beyond his fifth-grade rendition of "Puss in Boots." Perhaps we admire his sheer
chutzpa. But inside, we think:
Poor fool. He'll be lucky to land a job as a ride operator for Universal Studios.Like making it on the big screen, the idea of becoming a successful author is very attractive. It would be so romantic to be a writer, crafting the art in urban cafes. Of course (since we're fantasizing, why not?) we'd be a very
rich and
famous writer--the darling guest of radio and TV shows that travels the world in a yacht.
Sometimes we are more interested in
being a writer, rather than in fulfilling the actual task of
writing. It's human. We all want recognition, attaching more importance to success in the public eye rather than in the fulfillment of our calling.
Real writers tend to have other jobs that actually
pay the bills, and getting agents or publishers to even look at their stuff is something paramount to a miracle. If someone actually cuts you a check for your efforts--however pathetic a sum--you
must be someone special!
No, like any other endeavor in life, writing is just plain, hard work. I realized this fact when my dear mother--a woman of many talents by any measure--decided in her mid-life to start writing. I'll admit it--I didn't really take her seriously.
That is to say, I didn't take her seriously until she self-published the 310-page biography of her own father, which has sold a few thousand copies in English and Portuguese, and is even now being translated into Spanish for a late 2011 release in South America. She has followed up with a series of children's stories that are just hitting the market.
Her magic secret to success? Work. She spent hundreds of hours on the phone with her father, interviewing people who knew him, and poring over the journals and letters he had collected over nearly a century of life. Mom doesn't fantasize about being a writer. She writes! And it can only be accomplished through diligence and sacrifice.
Of course, a creative writing class or two can't hurt (I've taken a few), but without ever taking a "How to Get Published" seminar, Mom is the one with her name printed on the spines of real books. Mom, you are my hero!
Shameless plugs:
A Man After God's Own Heart
Alex and the Pirate's Cave
