On Getting What You Want

[Confidential to a blog reader.]

The other day, I was talking to a writer friend of mine, who tells me that her industry-icon mentor takes her out to lunch every year and makes her make a list of goals for herself to accomplish that year, then, at the following year’s lunch, goes over it like a status report to see how the writer is doing.

Pretty impressive, huh?

I’m not that disciplined — but then, few of us are. At the same time however, during the signing and TARA meeting yesterday, one thing that came up over and over again was how we got started in this business, and most of us set a goal for ourselves to write a book, and did it. Simple as that.

Which made me think of the first time I ever did something like that. I was 11 years old. At my summer camp, they had just added a circus activity. At the beginning of camp, they held auditions for the different circus acts that the campers would perform for their friends at the end of the summer. I instantly fell in love with one act known as The Spanish Web, where the performer would dangle and form poses high above the ground on a rope. It remains to this day my favorite of all circus acts.

I really, really, really wanted to perform on the Spanish Web.

So at the audition, the instructor asked each of the campers who were interested in the web to climb the rope, then do an “easy” position to test their potential. Reader, I failed the first step. I could not climb the rope. I have terrible upper body strength — terrible. So there I sat for the rest of the summer, working on my tightrope act and watching the Spanish Web performers with barely-concealed envy.

And then I went home and started practicing rope climbing.

I can’t say I did it every day. After all, I was 11 years old, and camp is just a few weeks out of an entire year. I can’t even say that I practiced it every week. But every time I thought of the Spanish Web, and how much I wanted to do it, I went out and climbed a rope in my backyard. Or tried to climb. Sometimes I could only get a few feet up. But eventually I could make it all the way to the knot on the top. (It was a much shorter, fatter rope than the Spanish Web rope. This concerned me, but, even at 11, I figured the point was to build up my rope-climbing muscles.) As we got closer and closer to camp time, I escalated my workouts.

And at the circus auditions that summer, when the Spanish Web instructor asked who wanted to be first, I popped up, walked over to that rope, and climbed it to the very top. It might have been “cooler” of me to hang back or whatever, but I’d been at home climbing ropes all winter! I wanted this bad! I was so excited to finally try out the Web!

When I found out that I had won the role, I was ecstatic. I loved every moment of my work. I loved the dizziness, I loved the positions, I even loved the blisters on my feet (I still have scars). I love the Spanish Web. It’s still my favorite circus act. I would love to do it again sometime, though I bet my sense of self-preservation (read: fear of heights) is far more developed now than it was at 11. But my reward for a year of rope-climbing in my backyard was more practice, more hard work, and then a single fun performance. But I wasn’t even in it for the performance. I was in it for every day, practicing on that rope. I would ask my instructor to go up on it during off-hours too. I loved being on the Spanish Web. It was like flying. (It was actually way more fun than the flying trapeze, which was the act I did the following year since I wasn’t allowed to do web two years in a row — though I did do the pre-audition demo.)

Now, just because I’d done all that preparation was no guarantee I’d be the one performing. Maybe there was an actual gymnast who was trying out too, one who not only had killer upper body strength, but also could do splits and all kinds of other acrobatic feats that kicked the pants of my paltry rope-climbing skills. Maybe all that work was for naught. (and maybe there was another person trying out whose raw talent was more impressive, but my enthusiasm outweighed that. Who knows?) But the thing is — I may not have gotten that part after working and preparing for it, but I definitely never would have gotten it if I’d been unable to climb the rope to start with.

It’s funny, but the harder you work, the luckier you get.

It’s been 19 years since that summer, and I still think about the Spanish Web whenever I’m faced with what looks like an insurmountable obstacle. That first summer, there was no way I could have climbed that rope. I could barely get a few inches off the ground. And The first few times I practiced at home, it was the same way. But, bit by bit, my strength increased. Bit by bit, I made it up the rope. Because I really wanted it. I really, really, really wanted it, and every time I thought about how much I wanted it, I went and climbed the rope.

Every time you think about how much you want to write a book, sit down and type out a few paragraphs, a few pages. Every time you think about how much you want to get a book published, send out a query letter. Climb that rope.

And then, when you’re up on that web, don’t think about the performance. Just remember what it feels like to fly.