Ethan Crane
My definition of success is when you can’t distinguishable between work and pleasure.

James Manos, creator of Dexter (via James Altucher’s newsletter)

Yes – but maybe, as Ben Goldacre often says, it’s a bit more complicated than that.

If you are lucky enough that the work really important to you has become a source of money then this holds true. Even then the fact that you are paid for this work must not have affected the work so much that you no longer value it in the same way.

But there is a gentler, more easily attained version of success for the rest of us. You can also be successful, can feel like a success, if you manage to set up your life to allow yourself at least some time for work you really value – work that does not feel like work and instead feels like pleasure. If you manage to set yourself up with subsistence work that earns you money but does not take over your life and allows you time for this important work. Your valuable work does not have to be performed all week in order to be fulfilling – that is for the few and far between James Manos’s.

If I manage ten or twelve hours a week for writing, and that feels like some kind of success. And besides – much of the time at subsistence work can be spent thinking about my valuable work. That’s what notebooks are for.

Because what young people in America wanted, in 1995, was a place to go during the day where their brain wasn’t wasted.

Po Bronson, from his novel The First $20 Million Dollars is Always the Hardest

Not just in America, not just in 1995. In this novel their work is wasted in ’90s Silicon Valley, but it could have been any profession, any time.

Young people want to do innovative work, work that doesn’t waste their brain. But they are deceived into thinking that they are going to find non-wasteful work in a traditional career within a company.

(Not quite as good as the author’s fabulous first novel, Bombardiers, a Wall Street satire, but excellent all the same.)

I have a couple of email tricks I do every day:

a. I’ll find someone from 3-10 years ago that I will send an email to. Someone I miss but have always liked. I’ll act as if we just spoke yesterday. It will be fun. 100% of the time they respond.

b. I’ll find two people I think should meet each other. I’ll first ask permission from both: ‘can I introduce you to so-and-so?’ If they both say ‘yes’ then I’ll make the connection.

I call this ‘permission networking’. My network is not the list of how many people I know. THE STRENGTH OF MY NETWORK IS HOW WELL EVERYONE I KNOW HELPS EACH OTHER. Most people don’t know this important principle.

c. Finally, I’ll write to someone I want to meet. To do this I need to offer them something of value. So I have to be creative in my email.

James Altucher, from his occasional newsletter.

The non-schmoozing side of networking, the side that I like. Must write to more people I want to meet. (James Altucher goes on to say that most of the people never write back or acknowledge that he has written, but it doesn’t matter at all.)

(via floundryarts)

what happened to your book?

it is coming, I promise! just finishing a second edit, then it has to be read by a copy-editor… and then it will be out as an ebook…

happy to send you a before proof copy after the next edit if you like… can you read it as an ebook?

regards

Ethan

I never thought that I’d be discovered. I just thought I’d be somebody who was a hard worker. For me, things started to happen once I completely gave up the concept of being discovered. I discovered what I wanted to do. That would be my advice to young performers: don’t want to be famous. Want to be legendary. In many ways, fame is the industrial disease of creativity. It’s a sludgy byproduct of making things.
Mike Myers (via austinkleon)
Expectations are very low for amateurs. The body triggers dopamine, a neurochemical that makes you feel happiness, when you exceed expectations. Often, when I’m an amateur, I exceed expectations.

James Altucher

One of the problems with working in a profession is that you have to be a professional. People expect you to work to a professional standard – there’s very little room for exceeding expectations.

Amateurs can exceed low expectations all the time. Pick the field you want to work in, and forge a self-made career. It doesn’t matter at all if you have no experience in this work. It doesn’t matter if you earn no money doing this work, because it’s work you really want to do. Learn as you go along.

It’s OK not to be a genius, whatever that is, if there even is such a thing…the creative life may or may not be the apex of human civilization, but either way it’s not what I thought it was. It doesn’t make you special and sparkly. You don’t have to walk alone. You can work in an office — I’ve worked in offices for the past 15 years and written five novels while doing it. The creative life is forgiving: You can betray it all you want, again and again, and no matter how many times you do, it will always take you back.

Lev Grossman manages to smash “you don’t have to be a genius” and “keep your day job” into his great essay, "How Not to Write a Novel" (his book, The Magician’s Land, is out this week) (austinkleon)

The gentler notion of success, the one more ground in realism, the one (I say, even though have never known – and probably never will do – crowd-pleasing, fame-filled success) that can sustain a large number of us in a life worth living.

Maybe not the apex of civilisation – but a whole sight more worthwhile than placing your hopes for life’s fulfilment in the 9 to 5 career.

The book was seen by its author as a mistake he would regret for the rest of his life but a mistake which nevertheless he could not refrain from making, and worse, as a mistake he would encourage everyone to make, because everyone should make big, huge mistakes, because
a) They don’t want you to
b) Because they haven’t the balls themselves and your doing it reminds them of their status as havers-of-no-balls
c) Because your life is worth documenting
d) Because if you do not believe your life is worth documenting, or knowing about, then why are you wasting your time/our time? Our air?
e) Because if you do it right and go straight toward them you like me will write to them, and will look straight into their eyes when writing, will look straight into their fucking eyes, like a person sometimes can do with another person, and tell them something because even though you might not know them well, or at all, and even if you wrote in their books or hugged them or put your hand on their arm, you still would scarcely know them, but even so wrote a book that was really a letter to them, a messy fucking letter that you could barely keep a grip on, but a letter you meant, and a letter you sometimes wish you had not mailed, but a letter you are happy that made it from you to them.

Dave Eggers, in the appendix to his first book A Heartbreaking Work of Staggering Genius, talking about his hindsight view of his book (after he had written it and it was successful, mind you. Talking without the hindrance of Imposter Syndrome).

Because all books (the ones that I value, anyhow), are in some form a documentation of the author’s life, whether non-fiction or fiction. And everyone’s lives are interesting, when examined in an honest manner, if the author has dug down to what has really happened to them, and tried to transmit it in a way that demonstrates why the experience was meaningful to them.

Goes along with Dorothea Brande’s observation or originality (from Becoming a Writer):

There is one sense in which everyone is unique. No one
else was born of your parents, at just that time of just that country’s history; no one underwent just your experiences, reached just your conclusions, or faces the world with the exact set of ideas that you must have. If you can come to such friendly terms with yourself that you are able and willing to say precisely what you think of any given situation or character, if you can tell a story as it can appear only to you of all the people on earth, you will inevitably have a piece of work which is original.

If you want to stimulate yourself into writing, amuse yourself in wordless ways.

Dorothea Brande, in Becoming a Writer

One of the pleasures I take from writing, before any writing has actually happened, is the stimulation and ideas received from reading the writing of others. Discovering how this feeds into your own ideas makes reading for me more pleasureable than when I was just reading. But, as with food and alcohol and money and all manner of other stimulants, I regularly forget that every increase in stimulation does not lead to an increase in pleasure.

This is especially difficult to understand in relation to reading the writing of others: ever-increasing stimulus does not lead to more writing, another book read is not another page written. In any moment of spare time I am  tempted by a book/article/online lecture/random surf of my favourite websites. But the short-term dopamine hit from discovering one more new idea has to be resisted for the longer-term pleasure gained from not-reading, from the wordless activities of walking or sitting or whatever you like to do, that allows your mind to sift through the ideas.

When I remember, this is the greater pleasure for me: to be involved in a wordless activity with a notebook to hand, and ideas coming to mind unbidden.

(See also: Self-imposed Rules for Rationing of Good Stuff)

What Do I Need to Improvise This Scene?

The parts of the novel I’m working on that I have already written, and that I like best, all seem to have come about through improvisation – the more unconscious the writing, the less I was thinking as I wrote it, the better.

Which ought to make progress easy: improvise more. Except it doesn’t, because improvising doesn’t come easy.

So I need to understand the times when it does come easy: what are the circumstances, what materials do I need for the best improvising?

An initial list – circumstances: start first thing in the morning, as little interaction with other people as possible… certainly no interaction with the internet. Materials: not too much pre-plotting that will limit improvisation… but some idea of the direction, otherwise too many possiblities… good knowledge of the characters…

(My list will no doubt be different from the lists of others.)