3/17/22

And so this week’s moment of happiness despite the news.

Do you know what weeks are the hardest for writing a moment of happiness? There are the weeks, of course, where many things happen, and I have to sift through them to figure out what brought me the most, what stopped me in my tracks with a moment of happiness so palpable, I was conscious of it. And there are the weeks when nothing comes to mind at all, and I sit at my computer for an impossible length of time, digging through everything that happened that week, looking for something, anything, that made me smile. And there are the weeks that I compare my moments, good and bad, to what is happening in the world and feel like I just can’t even talk about my little life when so many things are happening. Ukraine weighs heavy on my mind these days.

But believe it or not, the hardest weeks to write about are when my moment of happiness centers on a personal accomplishment. I struggle sometimes between seeing happiness as happiness or seeing it as bragging. So I wondered about that, as I realized, very quickly and profoundly, what my moment was this week. Because I immediately began looking for something else, thinking, not that I didn’t want to write about it, but that I “shouldn’t”.

I found myself several times this week talking to students and clients about the writing life, and a life in the arts as well. While such a life means doing what you love, it also means your success is fully dependent on what everyone else in the world thinks about it. In a conversation with Eva, my Australian client, we said the following (we meet in the AllWriters’ chatroom, so I have the conversation in black and white):

Eva: Why is this all so hard sometimes?? This creative life?

Me: Because writing isn’t supposed to be easy. If it was, everyone would do it. Think of it as a scavenger hunt. You’re looking for a story. And finding pieces.

Eva: Questioning ability…

Me: Yep. All the time.

Eva: Even when you know you have something…it’s not there all the time.

Me: And even when you know you have something, not everyone sees it.

Eva: So yes, this creative field is hard because subjectivity, and you are always progressing, progressing, never arriving…

Me: Yes. And we are always dependent on the viewpoints of others.

Eva: Oh yes.

Me: And at the same time, we’re preached at to put our own opinions of ourselves first. We’re told it’s what we think that matters. But in writing, and other arts, our success is totally dependent on what others think.

After Eva and I talked, I thought a lot about this. Often, when I tell my students and clients what a good job they’ve done, where they’ve really gone above and beyond, and even when I crow about their publishing successes, their response is to duck their heads, look away, mumble thank you, and quickly change the subject. But when I tell them what needs to be improved, what didn’t quite make the cut, they are all laser-eyes and focus, pulling in every word.

While I think this is really predominant in those of us who work in the arts, it’s not just for us alone. Years and years and years ago, when I worked as a weight loss instructor and coach (yes, I did!), I did a presentation on accepting compliments. Every person in that room acknowledged that when they were paid a compliment, they pushed it away and often disparaged it.

“You look great today!”

“What? Oh…really? No…I barely ran a comb through my hair. And this sweater is decades old.”

When I was still an undergrad, I took a course on 20th Century Literature. And in one particular class, led by the head of the English Department, we’d just handed in important papers the week before. The Head said he was going to choose a paper to read that was exactly what he was looking for and more. And then he read mine.

I found myself sinking in my seat. I hoped to heaven he wouldn’t say whose it was.

At the end, he didn’t say, but he handed me my paper first and my authorship was obvious to the rest of the class. When the bell rang, I should have stayed and thanked him. But instead, I slipped out before anyone else reached the door and I ran down the hall. Even as I did so, I knew if it was anyone else’s paper, they would have done the same thing. Later, I showed up at his office hours and thanked him. When he praised the paper again, I ducked my head, looked away, and mumbled thank you, then told him what I was doing in other classes.

Good grief. How far back does this go? In all of us?

And now it’s this week. And the moment I zinged to immediately when I considered what to write about. I started this moment in a dozen different ways, and then I wrote all of the above, and as I did, I thought, To hell with it. I did this. I was acknowledged. And I’m gonna use it for my moment.

In the middle of my day on Tuesday, out of the blue, I received an email from an editor I hadn’t heard from in a very long time. His name is Jordan Hartt, and the magazine was Conversations Across Borders, an international literary magazine that was interested in connecting people of the world. He had the title of the story he’d published, “108 Worldly Desires”, as the header of his email, and I opened it with great curiosity.

“Hey, Kathie,” he said. “I published this over a decade ago, and it’s still getting 10-15 views a day. Thought you’d get a kick out of knowing that!”

A kick? Oh. My. Gosh. A story, MY story, over ten years old, still being viewed 10 – 15 times a day. This was crazy! I very quickly did some math, which I verified with my mathematician daughter, because I’m not good at math. 10 years, 365 days in a year, not counting leap years, is 3,650 days. He said it was viewed 10 – 15 times a day, so let’s go middle ground, 13 times a day, And not figure in that it was likely read more than that earlier on. But 3,650 multiplied by 13 equals 47,450.

My story, “108 Worldly Desires”, has been read at least 47,450 times. And it’s still garnering reads over 10 years later.

I stared at that figure and I was shot through with happiness. Absolute. Profound. And a feeling of great accomplishment.

And so now, I’m not going to duck my head, turn away, and mumble thank you, then change the subject. Though I did send him a thank-you email. With about a million exclamation points.

Lookit, lookit, lookit! (Link is below!)

And yes, that helps. Despite. Anyway.

Link to 108 Worldly Desires, so you can add to the number who have read it:

http://www.kahini.org/108-worldly-desires/

Me in college, senior year, the year that the head of the English Department read my paper out loud to the class.
Me, the year 108 Worldly Desires was published.

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