Being stubborn is usually considered a bad thing. My husband likes to describe my stubbornness like this: “You will just beat against the door to try to break it down rather than take a moment to look for the doorknob,” He’s absolutely right. I have to be dragged kicking and screaming (sometimes literally) into learning new things. Learning a new thing means I will make mistakes and feel foolish and uncomfortable. I much prefer to sticking to something I have familiarity with, regardless of the consequences.

But sometimes being stubborn is a good thing. Being stubborn means never giving up on a commitment, no matter how daunting. Once I commit to something, I won’t quit. I’ll keep going at that stupid door, whether I find the knob or not.

We are all stubborn in or own way with varying degrees, some more than others. My mother-in-law is a case in point. In 1991, she contracted renal cancer. She lost a kidney. By the time I met my husband in 2002, she was probably already on the way to developing breast cancer. By December of 2003, it was stage 3. Worried we were going to lose her, we moved our wedding date up four months to the middle of January. Was my mother in law grateful? Hell no, she was pissed. “I’m not gonna drop dead tomorrow, ya know!” By October of 2004, she went into remission and stayed there. We don’t always get along, but she stubbornly gave the finger to cancer twice and I gotta respect that.

Sometimes being stubborn is the only way to overcome what look like insurmountable odds. I started writing novels in June of 2010. I self published my first in October of 2010 with probably 75,000 or so other aspiring authors. In 2011 that number jumped to 211,000. By 2015 a data firmed quoted by the New York Times predicts the number will reach over half a million new authors entering the self publishing market to join the ranks with everybody else including me.

Now, someone less stubborn than me might look at those astronomical numbers and say, “gee, I’m probably not going to make a living at this, am I?” Probably not. The same New York Times article quoted another reputable stats firm that calculated,”Most self-published books sell fewer than 100 or 150 copies…” That’s probably not far from where I am right now in 2013 with three novels available for purchase.

So, with each new novel I hand off to trusted editors, I have to ask myself, “Should I keep going?”

I’m gonna hang in there, because many others won’t. I’ll keep writing because I’m a validation junkie who is regularly fueled by the fans I run into who keep saying, “I loved your last book. Where’s the next one?” I’ll keep writing because writing is a craft that can only be honed with practice and only really appreciated when it’s done well. By this fall, I’ll have four books I can proudly offer with the promise of more to come. I still stubbornly believe, if I hang around beating on that same door long enough, I’ll find the stupid door knob.

And with each new novel, I stubbornly say, “Well, shit, what else am I gonna do?”

I finished writing Dairyland Murders Book 4: Torso in the Torrent about five hours ago. I took that breath of satisfaction, and now I have to move on. I still need the excerpt for Book 5. I have to decide if I’m going to start directly at the discovery of the crime, or slightly before while the victim is still alive.

I mentioned in this blog the last time I finished a book that the creative process doesn’t really end, it just moves on to the next thing.

A writer friend of mine gave me her first novel to read and give her notes on. As I read it, I immediately found issues, forcing scenes, stereotyping characters, plain old trying too hard. Then, I stopped myself, feeling I was losing perspective with my criticisms. It’s her first book. Of course her writing is going to contain those things. My first book does.

Four books in, I’m confident I’ve improved on at least some of those pitfalls. By the tenth book I’ll be even better. By the twentieth I hope to have hit my stride. By my fiftieth, good writing should be like breathing.

The end product stands as a test of my efforts, but the efforts need to be appreciated for themselves. I need to live in the moment and feel the rush of expressing that idea that absorbs me; the birth of that perfect phrase from my brain to the page that sets up the drama, moves the plot, creates the climax, makes the impact. The process is a  nanosecond of enlightenment, but its result lives on long after the fact. The sheer eloquence of that union is humbling.

So, Book Five: What exactly is that woman doing with a briefcase handcuffed to her wrist? Guess I’ll have to write and find out.

I will admit it. There is a vindictive part of me, like I’m sure we all have some amount of, that seethes with jealousy and disdain at the success of others. Being the passive aggressive Scandehoovian that I am, I of course keep my acidic comments to myself until I am with safe company. It’s a compulsive reaction from growing up in an environment that didn’t provide a whole hell of a lot of success. I don’t blame my parents. They didn’t know what attainable success looked like either. We’re all  just one more spoke in the wheel of bitter survival that’s been spinning for eons.

I know it’s wrong to covet other people’s accomplishments. Those accolades belong to them. How they came about their successes is none of my business. Yet, sometimes, deep down, I just feel irrationally cheated, like “How come they managed to pull that off and I didn’t? What am I missing that I can’t do what they do?” If I really wanted to be honest with myself, I could do a mental checklist and find all sorts of shortcomings in how I run my life that I’m either too lazy, too stubborn, or too afraid to change. But it’s so much easier to just sneer at others and say “They’re puttin’ on airs.”

If deep down in your gut, you think someone came about a perceived success through devious means, go ahead and sneer. But if success came from insight, preparedness, organization, and just plain doing the work, make a concerted effort to give that winner their just due. Resenting that other person for succeeding where you didn’t doesn’t affect their accomplishments, but it certainly undermines your credibility.

Maybe if we all spent more time appreciating what others do and glean inspiration from their achievements, rather than wallowing in our own self righteous sense of fairness, we’d all be further along as a whole. I’m going to try to remember that next time someone tells me about this awesome thing they pulled off, when the evil little shit in my head wants to just spout, “Oh yeah, how do you rate?”