When I began to take my writing “seriously,” I was looking around for some sort of organization where I could meet other writers, or at least have access to information. I called The Society of Authors to be told in not too many words that the Society was only open to people with published books (that might not strictly be the case, but at the time that’s what I heard). Well, that was embarrassing. And the scars went deep enough to turn the Society into one of my “signposts for success.” When I can be a member of The Society of Authors, then I will have made it, I thought. The funny thing is that I didn’t think I would be eligible for membership with the publication of my poetry play, Dreams of May. I wouldn’t allow myself to apply until I had published a novel. What that’s all about I’d rather not go into. But after Tangled Roots came out last year, joining The Society was one of the first things I did. And last night I even went to their Spring Reception. It was full of publishers and agents, all of whom had green name tags as opposed to the writers’ white ones. It took two glasses of wine before I could muster up the courage to seek out a green badge and introduce myself. As it happens, the green badge I spoke with was the Amazon representative who told me all about their print-on-demand scheme in the States and how that is turning out to be THE way that small presses are able to distribute their books in the US. Interesting. Something to think about. For those of you interested, it is found at www.booksearch.com. Some might think that not talking to any of those agents who were standing around like sitting ducks, so to speak, was a missed opportunity. Oh well. I was having too good a time catching up with Sarah Salway, and meeting for the first time, Emma Darwin. And I must admit, it was a thrill to stand there and listen to Margaret Drabble speak about how all those green badges must remember that we the white badges are the ones who make their jobs possible. Of course, she was extremely diplomatic but her point was clear, as was the fact that I was suddenly one of the “we” she was referring to.
All this has made me think about the silly signposts I have thrust upon myself. Of course, when I first started writing and publishing in magazines, my goals were different than what they are now. I’d like to think that moving “signposts of success” show some sort of progress, although I fear they only show a lack of confidence and misplaced energy. But it’s still fun (though maybe not exactly full of mental health). So here is a new meme for anyone interested. What are your fantasy signposts for success? In your wildest fantasies, what needs to happen for you to be able to say to yourself, “Well, I’ve made it.” I’ll start:
* To be asked to sit on a panel at Hay-on-Wye
* To have my work translated into at least 2 foreign languages (preferably one being totally obscure, like Uighur)
* To give a talk and book signing at Shakespeare and Company in Paris, a la Ethan Hawke in “Before Sunset”
* To have one of my novels made into a film (I’ll save going to the Oscars for my next signpost movement).
So who’s next?
I’ve been a member of the Society for a number of years now and have found them invaluable. Distance etc make the chances of ever getting to one of their socials very slim, but that would be one of the things on my fantasy list. Along with getting an agent and that agent placing one of my novels. We can all dream.
Signposts are very important to me too, and I think writing them down, stating them, is vital. Good on you! I’ll come to your session at Hay. And we’ll make sure JC is available for the film – in Urdu! And congrats for becoming one of the white-badged ones 🙂
That sounds like a scary place to be but if I ever get the chance to wear a white badge, I’d be there like a shot, with dutch courage of course:-)
I like what you say about signposts. Mine are fuddled and muddled, probably becasue I feel a long way from even remotely being white badge status. Perhaps I should start stating some now:-)
My signpost for success is probably quite odd. But when I lived in the UK it was getting the train to Paddington going into WH Smith, buying a copy of my own novel and telling the cashier that I’d written it. I suppose in many ways its still that.
Sue congrats on reaching one of your signposts. The social sounds like fun. I love being with other writers.
I like setting signposts too but, I even hate to write this as it will likely reflect badly on me, but in the process of reaching them I become sad. I don’t know, it’s a bit anticlimatic and I feel a bit like standing up and singing Bette Midler’s version of ‘Is that all there is?’
I’ll condsder that I have ‘made it’ as a writer when DJ Kirkby is a household name (for all the right reasons).
I don’t know what my signposts are….I love drawing….I’ve got my own website, had an exhibition, have sold quite a few and have had a number of commissions and I still don’t see myself as any kind of artist (and was horrified recently when my husband told someone that I was). It’s so much easier to be positive about other people’s achievements than it is to be positive about you own!!
C x
Graeme:I don’t think that those dreams ever change. I know I still worry about the next book getting placed, and I still assume that I’m going to the Society of Authors thing as a mistake….I think that has to do with the writer’s psyche, eh?
Tania: How about a Hay session on how to get famous actors to star in the adaptations of your book? That would be fun!
Glyn: That reminds me of another signpost I have — seeing someone on the Tube or a plane reading my book and then NOT saying anything because I’m so used to it!
Lane: In a funny way, i do think these signposts are good…if only as something to look back on.
Lauri: God, I know what you mean. You think your life will change and then it doesn’t. I think I’ll change and then I;m still the old headcase I always was 🙂
DJ: Lol – a household name. Now THAT’S a far-reaching goal. I can’t even dream that big!
Carol: Amazing, and it shows how we’re never satisfied or believing in our own success. But maybe that’s not completely negative.
Congratulations on getting there, badge and all! I am qualified for membership, based on two non-fiction translations, but I’ve never had the nerve to go, because in my mind, non fiction translation isn’t the ‘real me’ and I’d fel like an imposter – I know, idiotic. But it gets worse: my fantasy? To be invited back to my old school to give a reading and talk about my work.Pathetic, because the people who be inmpressed are dead. My other fantasy is winning the Whitbread Prize. At least it’s not pathetic.I wrote my Oscar speech many years ago (it’s the outfit that appeals) but I also toy with the idea of Refusing to have my book made into a film, much as they beg for it, because my work is too good for the movies. The great thing about fantasy, is one can have it all – and all at the same time. You should see the lover I show up with at the awards ceremony!
Kate: You are so funny! I love the bit about still needing to impress your dead teachers! And the lover at the Oscars…can’t wait! (ps I am now paranoid about using too many !’s after reading a very snide article about it…where? the Guardian, of course!)
the Grauniad doesn’t like it?? The Grauniad!!! Carry on exclaiming Sue (!!)