Episode 99: my fabulous foolproof formula for fame and fortune // Wednesday, July 15

When I was twenty-seven, I drafted an extensive document mapping out my ten-year plan. I had just gotten my MFA, had won a couple of fiction contests, and had my first publishing credit. 

I was going to have an agent and a book deal within a year. I was going to win awards. Write. Publish. Pat self on back. Repeat.

Fourteen years later, I haven’t achieved a single item on that list. Any goal-setting guru could’ve spotted the problems in my master plan. For one thing, my goals were all outcome-oriented, not process-oriented, which is to say that I had no real control on whether or not they would happen. I was all optimism and no reality. My success would be entirely defined by others. The items were specific, and as it turned out, unattainable. 

This is not to say that I didn’t work myself into a lather trying. I spent whole years of my life writing and rewriting novels, researching agents, often getting far enough in the process to have a conversation. Somewhere in a dusty file there are a bunch of letters from agents saying that they liked my writing a lot, but . . . 

I kept writing. Some good things happened in my life, not the least of which was that I had three kids. Occasionally, my writing gave me reason to celebrate, but never in the ways I’d envisioned. 

I’ve been meeting monthly with the same writing group for fourteen years. Every other person in the group has published at least one book, and all of them have won awards. Two of them are on the New York Times bestseller list. Carly Anne West, Nina LaCour, and Teresa K. Miller are wonderful friends, fantastic writers, and among the people who have championed my writing most. It has been easy to celebrate their successes. 

But also, I felt like a failure beside them. I distinctly remember one of our meetings a couple of years ago when I abruptly burst into tears. My friends hugged me and reminded me of accomplishments that had not been on my younger self’s list. These included a Fulbright scholarship to the Philippines and paid writing gigs for national magazines. An excerpt from one of those novels that never got published won a big award, which among other things meant I got to meet the fiction editor at the New Yorker, who has not published my stories, but has always responded to my submissions with tremendous kindness.

They told me they believed in me and that they were certain that my time would come. They’d all read nearly everything I’d written for fourteen years, and so I tried to believe them. But still, I felt like a failure.

The Oxford English Dictionary defines success as “the accomplishment of an aim or purpose.” But when most of us think about success, we think about wealth, power, and fame. In all of my years of striving, I had not achieved even one of those three.

In his story, “The Trend Toward A New Definition Of Success And Why It's Important To You,” John Hall gives some insight into why my accomplishments left me feeling so bad. John is the co-founder and president of the Calendar app, wrote the best-selling book “Top of Mind” and was recognized as one of the Business Journals’ Top 100 Visionaries. When John was a young entrepreneur, he got invited to a surreal dinner where most of the people at the table were millionaires or even billionaires. One of them posed the following question: “Do you think you are successful?” 

One after another, the dinner guests confessed that they did not feel successful, because no amount of money could fix broken relationships, or the sense that all of their work and stuff didn’t amount to much in the end. John writes,

“Success — and how we traditionally define it — is changing. Just because you’re wealthy doesn’t mean you’re a model of success, and just because you’re not raking in millions doesn’t mean you’re a failure. We have to stop this close-minded thinking.”

John’s story was published in 2018, but his insights are perhaps even more relevant today. In the COVID-19 economy, most of us have lost something. Some of us have lost almost everything. Our secret pre-pandemic goals of money, power, and fame were elusive before; now they seem ridiculous in light of the ever-changing landscape that has stripped away our sense of security. We are no longer surprised when the goal post keeps moving, because it keeps happening again and again.

Lawrence Samuel, who is an American cultural historian and former Smithsonian Institution Fellow, has written about this recently in his story, “How the Pandemic May Change Our Idea of Success.” Larry writes, “such a formula of success has made a good number of Americans feel not especially successful . . . Most of us are not famous, wealthy, or powerful, after all, and even if one does qualify on any of those dimensions, there are always other people who possess greater quantities of one or more of them.”

Larry goes on to say, “our dominant, externally defined model of success has been, for the most part, a failure. By setting up unreasonable expectations and creating an essentially unwinnable game, the model has, over the years, led to much anxiety, emotional insecurity, and general angst. I suspect that the use of these measures as social currency is a significant factor in our unimpressive national levels of happiness and well-being.”

My years of being discouraged and Larry’s research and John’s dinner experience all show us the same thing: if we expect money, power, and fame to make us happy, we aren’t just going to be disappointed. We’re going to be miserable. 

Sometime after that night of bawling my eyes out with my writing group, I decided to let that ten-year plan go. I was going to discard all of that good advice from successful people who know all about the habits of highly successful people and instead focus on right now. Maybe it was because I was about to turn forty. Maybe it was because I was just tired. 

I submitted the occasional short story, but I stopped researching agents. After years of chasing paying writing gigs, I put most of my freelance and magazine work on hold, and instead focused on the writing I didn’t get paid for--my own. This meant that the burden of paying the bills fell to my husband Nate, and that we slashed our expenses. Full-time childcare wasn’t an option, and so a lot of my time went toward caring for my kids. I told myself it was what I wanted. And anyway, I was writing.

I told myself that even though I wasn’t getting paid to do it, I was doing my dream job. All of those years of putting words on the page had made me better. Sometimes, I could convince myself that it didn’t matter if my work wasn’t making it out into the world. That the writing itself was the reward. It’s what you always hear from all of the people who have achieved their dreams: enjoy the process. Often, I did.

But still, there were tearful nights when I cried to my husband that I was never going to be successful. When it felt like all of that work was for nothing. 

And then COVID-19 became our daily conversation. I started this podcast, not because I thought it would make me successful, but because I wanted to. And for the first time in fourteen years of writing, it felt like I was getting somewhere. I could see the daily episodes pile up. It was satisfying to have that sense of accomplishment. It was challenging to write every day, but also exciting. I learned how to use my singing background to help me speak better. How to edit, to interview, to put my years of fiction writing to use in finding a daily narrative arc in  my daily search for sanity. I got to have fifty fascinating conversations with people in Maine and Milwaukee and Malaysia, people I’d invite over to dinner in a heartbeat if we ever get to do that again. I got to find out what it’s like to let go of all of the things you thought you needed, and accept the ones you can actually have.

I would love to tell you that Shelter in Place has made me feel successful, that it’s changed everything. It has, and it hasn’t. The first question anyone asks you when you say you’re a writer is, Have you published a book? Often, they’ll ask, Have you written anything I’ve heard of? 

I would still love to find an agent who will champion my writing. I’d still love to publish a book that you’ve heard of. I still hope that someday I’ll get to experience some of those things.

But in the meantime, this pandemic is slowly changing my definition of success. Nothing like losing your family’s source of income and suddenly finding out that all of your planning amounts to nothing to realize that the traditional way of doing things isn’t working anymore. 

Larry writes,

“Like other cataclysmic historical events, notably the two World Wars and the Great Depression, the global pandemic appears to be triggering a major shift in our values. While the coronavirus has, of course, brought some terrible things with it, it’s also directly responsible for sparking a bunch of positive things. Indeed, there are many signs that the pandemic is changing us, and for the better.”

Larry says that those changes include deepening ties with the people we love and getting to know our neighbors. We’ve learned that we don’t need as much stuff as we thought we did. To put it simply, we’ve taken a long, hard look at what really matters. Larry writes, 

“We’ve been shown that the planet is a single, indelibly intertwined community and have reconnected with people we’ve hardly even thought about in years. We’ve had long, deep conversations that we never seemed to have time for, and yes, some of them have been about the meaning of life and why we are here. Happily, the list goes on. Many of us have reconsidered our priorities in life and have gained a new appreciation for the simple ability to be with other people. 

We’ve come to understand the preciousness of the freedoms that we normally enjoy and have called a much-needed time-out to our get-as-much-work-done-in-as-little-time-as-possible lifestyle. We’ve become a lot more mindful, and we have a renewed appreciation of the gift of good health. Being reminded of mortality is, after all, the best way to celebrate life.”

John Hall agrees. These days he defines success not by a dollar amount, but by having a healthy mindset, the respect of your peers, and working with people you enjoy.

By John’s standards, my writing career suddenly looks quite a bit better. We’re still working our way toward being financially sustainable, and we’re making changes for season two to make sure we can do that without working ourselves into the ground. But we’re on the path to the criteria that he says are most important. 

He writes, “To me, a successful mindset is a healthy one — one in which you aren’t bombarded with unhealthy stressors, constantly frazzled, or frequently unable to handle situations without letting everything overwhelm you or throw you off track.” He says that respect in your career isn’t just about making money, but about the relationships you make and the example you set as being someone who treats others well. John quotes psychiatrist Robert Waldinger’s nearly 80-year-old Harvard study, where he said, “Loneliness kills. It’s as powerful as smoking or alcoholism.” 

I immediately thought of Nick Eply’s research on the surprising power of kindness, which I talked about way back in episode 19. And I thought about the things that have made the biggest difference for my family and me during this time. 

Lawrence writes,

“scrapping our comparative view of success would go a long way towards peace of mind, not an easy thing to do, but one that would make us much more secure in what we have accomplished in life. There are many other, perfectly valid ways to consider the worth of oneself and of others—degree of kindness, generosity, and wisdom, to name just a few. And due to the pandemic, there are indications of a wholesale reassessment of what makes a person truly and genuinely successful in life.”

The daily sanity I’m finding from John and Lawrence today is that it’s about time we scrap the version of success that made us more competitive, isolated, and anxious. In my search for daily sanity these past four months, the things that have meant the most to me have been the connections and conversations--whether through interviews, or listeners who have reached out. On the hard days--which is to say most days--Nate tells me to read the reviews on iTunes. So many of you have taken the time to say what you’ve appreciated about this podcast. Some of you have even supported us financially. You’ve encouraged me day after day. Reminded me that we are not alone.

Shelter in Place began as a pandemic podcast, but it’s become much more. It’s a place where we can reach out instead of hunker down. Where we open our hands instead of closing them. Where we can live not in independence, but interdependence. It’s a community where we can have the conversations that will bring us together. 

Ultimately, Shelter in Place is not just about where you find safety, but about where you belong.

If you’ve been listening, then you may have noticed that we’ve been including Easter eggs at the end of some of our episodes. Often it’s a personalized thank you to our supporters. Sometimes it’s a little something to make you laugh. If you’d like to hear your name in the credits, you can support us for as little as $5/month at shelterinplacepodcast.info. 

Before I go, I want to thank a couple of our newest supporters. 

Sande Rud, you’re one of the few people in my life who has known me since success wasn’t publishing novels, but finding a bouquet of wildflowers in the woods. Thank you for always making your home a place of welcome shelter. I’m particularly grateful for the connections we’ve had in recent years, when we’ve been able to share the joys and heartaches of this life, and to find comfort in that conversation.

Dave and Kathy Emmans, you met me at a time when I could hardly muster up the courage to believe I’d be successful at anything. Over the years you’ve taught me that success can mean winning races--but it can also mean sitting in the beauty of a single moment. The two of you have watched me grow up, and have shaped me both as mentors and friends. Thank you for being the kind of friends who will have the good conversations, who never stop learning, and who never forget me no matter how many years go by.

Outtake: Wait for the plane.

How the Pandemic May Change Our Idea of Success

Lawrence R. Samuel, Ph.D., is the founder of AmeriCulture, a Miami- and New York City-based consultancy dedicated to translating the emerging cultural landscape into business opportunities.  He holds a Ph.D. in American Studies from the University of Minnesota and is the author of many books. 

The Trend Toward A New Definition Of Success And Why It's Important To You

John Hall

John Hall is the co-founder and president of Calendar, a leading scheduling app that he’s convinced will change how we manage and invest our time. He authored the best-selling book “Top of Mind,” published by McGraw-Hill. John was a recipient of the EY Entrepreneur of the Year Award for Best Emerging Company and was recognized as one of the Business Journals’ Top 100 Visionaries.

John has been called a top “sales speaker”, “social media speaker” and  “motivational guest speaker” that people should pay attention to. He is consistently mentioned in major publications as a top influencer, leader, and speaker. John writes weekly columns for Forbes and Inc. and has contributed to more than 50 online publications, including Inc., Harvard Business Review, Fortune, Fast Company, and Mashable.