Ross had been infatuated with Rachel since high school. But by the time they were in their late twenties, and after many failed attempts at starting any sort of relationship, Ross had more or less given up while Rachel remained oblivious to his feelings.

But then one day while Ross was overseas on a business trip, Chandler inadvertently let it slip to Rachel that Ross harbored romantic feelings for her. While initially shocked and unsure what to do, Rachel soon came to discover she had feelings for Ross too. She decided to do something about it by meeting him at the airport upon his return.

Fortunately (from a pure story-telling point of view) Ross did not disembark alone. Much to Rachel’s shock and dismay, Ross stepped off the plane with his new girlfriend, Julie. What came to pass over the next few weeks was what we in the storytelling business call a “role reversal”: Rachel now pines for Ross while Ross is oblivious to her feelings.

Some time later, while out on a date with one evening, Rachel complains incessantly about her situation. Her date Michael, in a dual play to help this floundering woman and perhaps cut his miserable evening short, suggests that Rachel’s true problem with Ross is that she never attained “closure” in the relationship.

“How do I get that?” Rachel asks. Michael wisely suggests, “Whatever it takes so that you can finally say ‘I’m over you.’”

This clicks with Rachel.

Success

It doesn’t seem unreasonable to assume all writers want to see their published works succeed. But success comes in many forms. Modern popular culture sets a rather high bar. In particular, authors who:

• Sell millions of books
• Cut movie deals
• Earn merchandising royalties for decades
• Are not named Charlie

These rare and select few sit at the top of a very large pyramid. But that’s just the most narrow definition of success.

Writers who “only” sell one thousand copies of their book are also successful. I can make an argument that selling one hundred copies counts as well. And for some, success might be the solitary act of having one’s book accepted by a publisher, irrespective of anything that comes after.

The important take-away is that there’s no single definition of author success and that the only definition that matters is the author’s.

Smart Mouse

In my last post, I talked about giving up. It’s the flying half of the fight-or-flight instinct, where I attempted to convince myself that under the right circumstances, flying can be just as intelligent a response as fighting. After all, who would fault the mouse that chooses to run when confronted by a lion?

Well, let me answer that rhetorical question. The only one who might fault that smart mouse is the mouse itself. I can easily see that little guy crawling back to his hole and thinking, “I hate myself! I should’ve stood my ground! Am I a man or a . . . ? Well, never mind. Still, I shouldn’t’ve run!”

The mouse isn’t dumb. He knows running was the right (even the only) choice. But mouse society has indoctrinated him with inspirational phrases: “success is everything! don’t give up! follow your dreams!”

After his “failure,” about the only thing that will comfort this poor mouse is the same thing that helped poor Rachel:

Closure

Since I first got the itch to write fiction in the early 1990s, I’ve cycled through about every definition of success there is. In the end, however, I’ve landed on a single definition. Well, a single definition with three prongs:

• To write
• To be read
• To be appreciated

As the song goes, “it’s not about the money, money, money.” It’s not fame. It’s not jet-setting about the planet rubbing shoulders with the other award-winning authors. It’s not about having people lined up for blocks at book signings. No, it’s simply about assembling words in a pleasing manner, sharing the words, and having a healthy percentage of those people say, “Wow, I enjoyed those words.”

And I’ve experienced that already to some extent. Here are all the books on my author page at Amazon:

But in spite of the work I put into them, and how much readers have liked them, in my brain they don’t count because I still haven’t produced a novel. And that’s where I get back to my mouse-vs-the-lion issues. Last week I admitted I can’t do this but I still have to figure out a way to get over Ross.

The good news is, I think I have a solution. Tune in next week for Part 3.