What do you wanna be when you grow up?
Adventures in quieting the monkey-lizard brain.
I’ve been reading this book lately about “quieting the mind.” Shut up. That’s what I read sometimes. I’ve read stuff like this before, I’m very interested in philosophy, various types of spirituality, and mindfulness stuff. Anyway, this is about how to stop that frenetic-monkey-lizard-brain from taking over your fucking life. (That would be a good blurb.)
Something that struck me lately is the ambition and reaching for success gene (lizard-engine) that I’ve had stuck in my DNA since birth. Yeah, I know DNA comes with birth. Don’t interrupt me! In my various careers I’ve always loved going for the long shot. What I mean, is that instructors in art school told me it’s very hard to break in, and make a living, as an editorial illustrator. Rather than dissuade me, I saw that as a challenge. And for 26 years I proved them wrong. Yes, I worked my ass right off, but I got to draw and paint pictures for a living. Who gets to do that?
Somewhere along the line I became intrigued (which in my case means: obsessed) with becoming a syndicated comic strip artist. The odds were way against me. At the time, the average syndicate received 5000+ submissions a year. Of those submissions, they gave contracts to two, or at the most, three artists. Sounded like my kind of odds.
For seven years I chased it. I’ll write a post about that another time, but it was a fascinating journey that I took with my new friend Mark Heath from Rhode Island, who was also searching for a contract. Mark ending up getting one with United Features (the Charlie Brown syndicate) for his wonderful strip, Spot the Frog. I wrote the intro for one of his collections, and he used to give nods to me in the strip by mentioning my home city as a running gag. I got very close. A finalist in the Washington Post Writers Group contest (who did Bloom County), and notes, feedback, and an introduction to develop from King Features (one of the biggest syndicates… Blondie, etc.) But no contract.
Fast forward through some other stuff, and somehow I decided to finally embark on this writing career thing. The odds were stacked totally against me, in other words, the “Craig Zone.”
Once again I got close, very close to Big 6 deals at places like William Morrow/Harper Collins and Mulholland Books (home to one of my writing heroes Joe R. Lansdale.) It took seven years (hmm… a theme) to get an agent. I got a great one, as he repped Joe Hill (writer of Horns, Nos4at2, Heart Shaped Box… and kid to some famous dude with the last name King.) Having this agent got my work seem by some of the big folks that made big decisions. Author stardom awaited. (Insert belly laugh of time here.)
But as I’ve told the story (way too fucking many times, so shut up about it Craig), things didn’t happen the way I wanted them too. I didn’t get the contract. The agent and me parted ways, other agents were interested, but then they weren’t etc. et-fucking-cetera.
At this point I want to remind myself what this post is about. Quiet your MIND dumbass. And believe it or not, I’m starting to.
It bugged the hell out of me that I couldn’t get my work published by the large traditional presses. So much so, that my monkey-brain said, “Well, you should just quit.” It was a dark time. I hate monkeys.
But here’s the thing. A shift happened, and it continues to happen. Recently, I said on twitter that I’m the happiest I’ve ever been as a writer. What happened is I not only realized why I want to write (have to write), but I learned that I don’t need to always swing for the fences. I don’t always need the big odds or the huge challenge. Don’t get me wrong, writing is still a huge challenge—it’s one of the things I love the most about it. But seeing that there are a few people that like what I write… well, that was totally enough.
I have a hard time articulating what I exactly mean, or how HUGE of a shift this actually was. I think I grew up. And I’m learning to quiet my mind. Weird, right?
In a review recently on my new book, someone called one of my books a “cult novel.” And they meant the IYKYK type cult, not the Jim Jones kind. I read this and thought, “Well, how fucking cool is that?!!!” So many films, books, and bands I’ve loved are more cult than mainstream. Why would I think that I’d grow up to be anything different? Whenever I read super-popular bestsellers, I’m almost always disappointed. It’s not my jam. If it’s yours, that’s cool. But this recent realization has produced another huge shift. I’m writing for a small audience. Again, how cool is that?
I don’t write to make money. I laugh out loud writing that sentence. This month because of my new book, Sayulita Sucker (insert plug and link here, ha!), has been my best sales month since I started this crazy adventure. But when I say best, it is still super-small potatoes compared to any of the big folks. And that is so okay it hurts. All you monkey-lizards can shut up now.
Things are pretty damn good when you’re grown up. Pass me a banana.
As a proud member of your cult following, I just want to say, “Pass the Pacifica, please.”
This is lovely, Craig, and oh so validating. I think too often publishers and podcasts, etc, think we want to hear about “success stories,” or what they consider success, and not about the variation and color that inevitably makes up the majority of the literary industry. Books, like everything right now, seem to be going the way of independent everything. And I’m here for it. Oh, also I need you to become a political cartoonist. Single panel. I will read ‘em all.