August 19, 2008
New Level, New Devil
Written by EmilyMcKay in Jaunty PostMy friend Robyn—hey, you know her—has a saying. New level, new devil. It’s her way of describing the fact that no matter where you are, there are problems. Long ago, when we ere unpublished newbies together, we thought if only we could get the attention of an editor and get one of those coveted contracts, all our professional problems would be solved.
Turns out, we were being overly optimistic. Or stupid, if you want to look at it that way.
Because, of course, a great career is made up of more than just a single contract. It’s publisher support, print runs, and distribution. And if all those things line up, it’s sell throughs, earn outs, and best seller lists. And if you’re lucky enough to make those lists, can you do again? Only higher this time, please.
You see what I mean? There’s always something new to worry about. And chances are, it’s bigger and badder than whatever you were worrying about before. Probably more stressful, too.
I’m beginning to realize that the same is true of motherhood. My girl is now three. We went through a rough spot at about eighteen months. She was willful, stubborn and still unable to communicate her desires. She was agile, fearless and energetic, so every time I turned around she was scaling some piece of furniture or cabinetry. Frankly, she was driving me crazy.
Then she grew out of it, learned to talk and things settled down. I didn’t have to follow through with my threats to sell her on eBay. (Cute toddler. Slightly used, accessories included. Serious bids only.)
But now she’s three. I’d heard if you coast through the twos, you’re probably in for rough waters with the threes. It’s the same thing as writing. New level, new devil.
With my girl, it’s actually that willful stubbornness showing itself in new and inventive ways. She’s in that testing stage. Yesterday was particularly tough. For example, she got a plum, ate half of it, and massaged the other half into her naked torso. When I chastised her, she apologized, served her time in time out and stood patiently while I cleaned off her chest. An hour, she got a second plum, ate half of it, and used the other half to polish furniture. You see the logic, don’t you? Plums aren’t for rubbing into skin, but surely they must good for rubbing into something. Mommy’s head didn’t explode last time, but maybe I get make it explode if I do this.
You ever notice how eager parents are to give out advice to other, newer parents. I have a theory about this. Advice is just nostalgia for a time when we were dealing with a devil we knew. We can hand out tips for dealing with colicky babies or teething toddlers because we’ve already done that. We made it through. Dare I say, we even feel smart and clever in retrospect. It’s this new devil we’re dealing with that’s making us crazy. Whoever we’re talking to may need We need that reminder of our own brilliance and resiliency as much as the person we’re talking to needs those helpful suggestions.
Is the same true of the writing world? Probably. I love giving workshops. I always assumed it was because I was a teacher in a former life and just liked being in front of the “classroom” again. But maybe I just like the reminder that in the roughly fifteen years I’ve been writing, I have learned something. Maybe even something useful. There is much about this industry that’s confusing and mysterious. But I’m not nearly as green as I once was. And not nearly as smart as I wish I was.
So anybody got any helpful tips for surviving the threes?
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Shana Galen Says:
No tips from me, Emily, but I’m sure you’re doing great. I lvoe that saying, too. It seems every book I write has a new challenge–every book has to be better than the one before.
RobynDeHart Says:
Well, I can’t take credit for that saying, I heard it somewhere, but it sure fits with all kinds of situations in life.
I have no advice either, but I know you’re doing a great job. And hey, at least she’s darn cute.
Kathryn Says:
You will survive the threes, and then the fours, fives and sixes, etc. Each brings their own special challenges. Mine are now 15, 17, 19 and 21 and even though two of them are off in apartments for university life there is still fall-out. Just keep throwing those values and life lessons at them, hopefully some of it will stick and they will turn into really neat, productive members of society. My head didn’t explode, but there were days when I felt like tossing the child out the window and myself afterwards… as with everything, there is always SOMETHING to learn, be it with kids, writing, career or life in general.
EmilyMcKay Says:
Thanks, everyone, for the vote of confidence. Sometimes it helps just feeling like your not alone in the crazyness.