How To Be A (Happy) Ambitious Author
Managing the art / business balance
Something has been on my mind since I published this piece about my debut publishing comedown a couple of weeks ago. My confession seems to have resonated in a way I wasn’t expecting. Lots of writers on both sides of the publishing gateway have recounted similar fears and experiences. (If you haven’t read it, please do go and take a look).
In that post I state my belief that the key to long term happiness and fulfilment as a writer is in embracing process rather than product, in the doing rather than the outcome. The act of writing is what brings the most sustenance. Recognising this, defining your own measures of success, and letting go of outcomes will help you enjoy and value writing for its own sake, regardless of commercial success or public recognition. This belief now underpins my own writing and the work I do with other writers.
However, this question was emailed to me from a disconcerted reader: If writing is its own reward, and publication can be so disappointing, why bother to chase publication at all?
It got me thinking about ambition and the tension between the two sides of a career as a writer: art and business. So, what follows is my response to that question. I don’t claim to have all the answers, or indeed any answers beyond my own experience and observations. I think these things are complex and tricky to navigate. But I would hate to think that sharing my debut publishing experience has discouraged anyone from embracing and pursuing their wildest publishing dreams. That was not my intention.
Even though art for art’s sake is the gospel I preach, I still have plenty of goals, dreams and ambitions for my writing career. Some of these are fanciful and improbable. I still daydream about winning the Women’s Prize for Fiction, Netflix adaptations, red-carpet premieres and the Sunday Times bestseller list – those Insta-worthy glamorous moments that occasionally happen to authors.
When I ask other writers what their big no-limits dream is, it is very often some version of this.
What is it that keeps us chasing the chimera of public literary success?
The tagline I use for The Inkwell is: Coaching and Community for Ambitious Authors. Why did I choose that word ‘ambitious’? (aside from the pleasing alliteration). The answer lies in this definition…
‘a strong desire to do or achieve something.’
That’s all it means to me, really. An ambitious author simply has a strong desire to write and is committed to their writing.
My ambition for my fiction – a reasonable one, I think – is to keep writing and get better with each book. To become the best writer I can be. I’ve come to think of this as my private ambition. The personal driver that underpins everything else. If I’m writing regularly and slowly making progress, that’s good enough. That’s the art.
Everything else is what happens after the writing is done. That’s the business. And it’s fine – in fact, it’s good – to have big ambitions for that too. After all, writing is a job and we need to pay our bills. Even if writing isn’t the way we make an income, we all want and need readers.
Getting published belongs to the business side of writing and it represents different things to different people. Often, traditional publication is a form of validation – proof that the years of toil have been worth it, that we have created something of value that’s good enough to get past the gatekeepers. For me, it means something I’ve written has connected with people, that it has merit, perhaps even an impact. It means I am doing my job. I am achieving the thing I have a strong desire to do.
Publishing successes might also have a material impact. There’s no question that a hit book, a prize win or a film adaptation can transform careers and change lives (or at least bank balances). There can be tangible financial benefits that bring security and allow us to keep writing, doing the thing we love.
But it’s also just human to want those things.
It's well established that a person's mental health, their sense of belonging and contentment, requires healthy social connection and interaction with others. Our very sense of identity, who we are and how we understand our place in the world is in relation to other people.
Our brains haven’t developed much beyond the days when being outcast from our community (social group, family, tribe etc.) meant literal death, so was something to avoid at all costs. We fear ridicule and disapproval. We fear being cast out, so we seek the opposite. We seek acceptance, belonging, approval and reassurance that we are a valued part of our community. When we are praised for our achievements, it feels good. Plus, we are all conditioned to recognise achievement, wealth, fame and renown as things to strive for – external markers of success that are rewarded in myriad ways.
I guess what I'm saying is it's okay to want these things. It’s OK to be wildly ambitious, or not. It’s OK to fantasise about your Pulitzer or McArthur genius grant. It’s OK if your secret dream is to win the Booker. But I hope the point I made in that last piece rang true – that working toward your publishing dreams will be a whole lot more enjoyable, sustainable and fulfilling if your striving is underpinned by a genuine engagement with and love for the act of creation itself.
It is possible to cultivate a healthy relationship with your writing that supports your life in a deeply personal way. It’s also possible to want a professional career that connects you to as many readers as possible, brings you a sustainable income and, if you’re lucky, rewards you in other ways too. These two things can be true at the same time. They are both true in me.
I’m curious – what are the big writing dreams do you have and how to they help or hinder you? What does ambition mean to you when it comes to your writing? I’d love to know. Join me in the comments…
Your Next Inkwell Workshop
Don’t forget to join me for July’s workshop:
Rejection & Resilience: the writing rollercoaster:
Thursday 25 July 2024, 6pm-7pm UK time
Well said! I often think about how bizarre a pursuit writing fiction is, and that the only reason to do it is out of love. Even if we try to be realistic, however, it is natural to hope to make big waves with a book we may have spent years working on. We want publishing it to change our lives.
The thing I keep reminding myself of, that helps as I pursue my own ambitious goals, is this: whether or not I get a prize or a six figure deal, or a Netflix show, my life will still have been changed by writing a book.
For so much of our lives, we dream of writing books, often worrying we won't be able to do it. By embracing the process, and getting to the end of a novel, we get to ask "What else am I capable of?" And perhaps this is winning a prize or a big advance or a film deal. But there are so many other things we've learned and so much other growth that occurs, too. Perhaps I'm a bit Pollyanna about the whole thing, but it's the only way I know how to keep showing up and taking the risk.
We're passing notes to the future when we write, and that's a pretty cool thing to be able to do.
Thank you for this follow-up. You've left me feeling inspired to get back into my manuscript immediately.
I’m selfpublishing and I know that that diminished the chances of ever getting any of those ‘big’ author goals - so I’m trying to focus on more achievable ones instead, like having a stand at Comic Con - but truth be told, who wouldn’t love to have a Netflix adaptation! 🤩