Louis XIV was obsessed with his gloire. The pursuit of gloire was basically his raison d’être, and certainly the primary motivation behind many if not most of his political acts as an absolute monarch. The French word “gloire” is more nuanced that its English counterpart, glory; it encompasses “reputation”* as well as “prestige”. Louis XIV wanted to be admired. That word, too, carries a variety of connotations: approval, respect, reverence, adulation, envy, even intimidation. It’s only perhaps a small exaggeration to say that Louis XIV built Versailles as a pedestal upon which he could stand and be admired.

Why am I talking about a French king who lived more than 300 hundred years ago? Because, friends, la gloire is a very modern preoccupation too. I might go so far as to argue that it is the defining obsession of our social media-dominated age. Louis XIV would have looooved Instagram and TikTok, I’m telling you. Wait, did I just say that? Sacré bleu!

Speaking of Instagram, I came across this idea there recently that I haven’t been able to get out of my head. To paraphrase:

To crave the result but not the process is to guarantee failure.

This came up in the context of writing, specifically, but I think it applies broadly to pretty much any endeavour, creative or otherwise. What it’s getting at is this: unless one values and invests in the process required to get the desired result as much as one values and invests in the result itself, one is setting oneself up for failure. Result follows process; you get what you put in.

In fact, and not to be a downer here, when it comes to creative pursuits, sometimes you get less than what you put in, because capitalism is not actually set up to reward creativity. The notion that you can get more than you put in — aka phenomenal result with minimal effort — is a thing people tell you when they’re trying to sell you some get-rich-quick scheme.

Since I’ve started hanging out in writerly spaces (mostly on Reddit), I’ve seen countless posts from people who crave being successful writers. Who dream of la gloire of being a writer that others admire. And, listen, I’d be lying to you if I said that I don’t indulge in that dream myself, from time to time. But what stands out to me in a lot of these posts — more of them than you might think — is the notable lack of interest in the process of being a writer, period. It’s less about “how do I become a writer” and more about “how do I write a successful novel”. I always want to respond to these posts by pointing out that they’re focusing on the wrong thing, but I don’t because I know there’s very little chance the OPs will listen … and, also, who needs strangers on the internet getting mad at them for being quote-unquote negative? Not me.

Here’s what I learned about being a writer so far: the only thing you can control is your practice and your process. And, by extension, the work that comes out of that process. But as for what happens to that work — the result of the process, as it were? You don’t control sh*t.

Ok, fine. Maybe you have a non-zero amount of control over the result.

But the amount of control you have is so infinitesimal that we might as well zero it out altogether. A well-written book (i.e. the outcome of your process) does not equate to a “successful” book, by any external metric you want to measure success. Externally-validated success is largely determined by external factors — aka other people. And we can’t control what other people do, or think, or like. Sadly, we are not absolute monarchs like old Louis was.

I think this is true of most human endeavours and certainly of creative ones of any kind. Getting deeply attached to a result (particularly one predicated on external validation) is a pretty surefire way to court disappointment. But if the result is the thing that puts fire in one’s belly, then I think the best way to improve the chance of avoiding disappointment is to take that fire and channel it into the process. Learn to crave the process; it might end up getting you the result you want, but even if not, you’ll have had a bunch of fun along the way.

Here’s another thing I recently heard and can’t get out of my head: we don’t get what we want, we get what we are. Isn’t that quite a devastating statement? Simple, to the point, and true.

This is how I’ve come to understand it: what we achieve reflects what we practice. One cannot think oneself a writer (much less a successful writer). One must act to be a writer, which is to say, one must have a practice of writing. Again, the same goes for everything. We cannot want and wish and think ourselves confident. We act and practice confidence, and in time we become confident. Practice dictates outcome, shapes reality.

So, yes, be wary of la gloire. It is shiny and tempting, but it can lead one astray. Just ask historians: Louix XIV did a bunch of (objectively) dumb things chasing la gloire … and he came as close to being an omnipotent human as ever walked upon this green earth. Whether or not he was even satisfied, on balance, with his achievements is a WHOLE other story. [Some, indeed, have speculated that he ended up feeling trapped by the lifestyle he created for himself in pursuit of la gloire. Which begs the question: if a mega-rich autocrat doesn’t enjoy his life, what is even the point of being a mega-rich autocrat? But I digress.]

Anyway … here’s to chasing the high (and lows) of the process — glory be damned!

^{*See, e.g., Anne Somerset’s book The Affair of the Poisons: Murder, Infanticide and Satanism at the Court of Louix XIV for discussion. Many other writers and historians have examined this facet of Louis XIV’s personality and its impact on his reign.}

What a whirlwind week it’s been! Writing-wise, it was a bit of a wash – I blame the Mercury retrograde for that – but otherwise I felt like I was firing on all cylinders. Mostly, I’m just really stoked to know that my book is coming out in less than 2 months. A huge THANK YOU to everyone who has already pre-ordered A Party to Murder! And to everyone who is planning to do so as well … yes, I am not above a little emotional blackmail 😉

Miraculously, the weather here has been holding on to a semblance of fall, meaning that there is, as yet, no proper snow on the ground. [I say ‘miracle’ when it’s almost certainly climate change, but I’m trying to keep things light here for a change.] I love that I haven’t had to pull out my heavy winter arsenal yet, and haven’t had to make the mental switch from fall dressing. I also know that, once the snow does hit, it’s gonna feel extra rough to make that adjustment because I’ve had almost an entire month longer than usual to live in denial about winter. That being said, getting used to darkness at 4PM has been bad enough. Hibernation mode has def been activated!

Let me take a moment here to complain for a little bit, k? So, this week has been generally great, but you know one thing that sucked? Trying to get into the right mind-frame to tackle marketing for A Party to Murder. I loathe marketing. It’s the reason I didn’t want to get into self-publishing in the first place, but it’s also unavoidably necessary to achieve the goal I have for self-publishing. Unfortunately, given the state of the publication industry as a whole, relying wholly on the “built it and they will come” approach – aka write a good book and wait for people to find it – is a recipe for disappointment, it seems. You need to write a good book, of course, but with thousands of books being published daily – yes, daily! – its chances of being organically discovered by the right people (i.e. people who are the audience for that particular kind of book) are vanishingly small. On the other hand, figuring out how to do effective marketing – the kind that gets your book in front of the right people – is so, so hard. And also time-consuming, even if you know what you’re doing. Which I don’t. So I feel like I’ve been spinning my wheels and ‘wasting’ time that I’d much rather put to other uses, like writing or reading or spectating the Wuthering Heights discourse online.

I think I’m feeling particularly salty about this because it’s not my goal to make writing my paying career. Like, I want people to read my book, but I don’t need it to become a viral success. It’s too niche for that, anyway. Money-wise, if I can get to a point where my books pay for themselves (i.e. my royalties cover the costs of the professional services I use to get them in publishable form), I would be quite content. Even so, I can’t afford to ignore the marketing angle. I feel like I’m stuck in this weird no-man’s-land of monetization, and I hate it. My biggest hope is that, a few books in, I’ll have built enough word of mouth to allow me to dispense with the marketing malarkey.

OK, rant over.

Given what I’ve just said, you shouldn’t be surprised to hear that I haven’t accomplished much else of note this week. Regretfully, I had to DNF (for now) Blinding by Mircea Cartarescu. The lack of plot defeated me about 2/3 of the way in. The prose is gorgeous – but also very, very dense. There were passages I read dozens of times because the language and the images/ideas it evoked were so startling and beautiful … but there were also places where I felt I was getting lost. The style is similar to Solenoid, which is one of my fave books, but Solenoid is a lot less dense and has a very solid, interesting plot. It explores similar ideas, though, so I think it’s a more accessible choice for most people (myself included). I am going to try Blinding again down the line, but for now, I’m moving on to Schattenfroh by Michael Lenz and hoping it’s also a bit more accessible. Or I would … if I had any time. Which I don’t. Sigh.

Have a great weekend!

Here’s something that may surprise you, given the tenor of my recent posts: I hate self-help books. I think it’s an industry rife with problematic people and problematic advice, and wading through the crap to get to the useful or interesting nuggets it’s worth my time. [And that’s not a judgment on anyone who feels it’s worth their time.] If something comes across my path that seems interesting, I may take a closer look at it, but I don’t go out of my way to find it, if that makes sense. As a matter of principle, I am skeptical of most self-improvement “hacks”. If they’re not a thinly disguised device for selling some product/service or other, they’re often some combination of self-evident, trite, or vague/generalized to the point of being inactionable.

But there is one exercise I have found immeasurably useful to my personal growth. I hesitate to call it a self-improvement exercise. It’s more about self-discovery than anything else. If you are someone who is currently engaged in finding their purpose, I highly recommend it.

It’s the “perfect day” exercise. And it’s exactly what it sounds.

Imagine your perfect day: what does it look like?

In doing the exercise, set aside all constraints and limitations as to what might be realistic or achievable. Shut out external noise, turn inward, and listen. Do not rush yourself to an answer. It may take a while for a clear picture to emerge. It’s okay if it emerges in bits and pieces. The key thing is for the picture to be yours.

And watch for the “shoulds”. “Shoulds” are almost always someone else’s voice in your head; an internalized cultural/societal dictum. Interrogate them fiercely before you let them anywhere near your perfect day. Personally, I’ve tossed most of the shoulds in my life out of the window. Time’s too precious to waste on things I should do. There are enough things I need to do (practical necessities) and things I want to do (purpose and joy) to fill a lifetime.

It was my experience that the “perfect day” I eventually settled upon looked nothing like the version that, in the past, I probably would have imagined. [The ‘past’ being that part of my life when I was still very much in thrall to “shoulds.”] In one sense, my perfect day was, for lack of a better word, very modest. Quiet. No big thrills, no fancy stuff. It was filled with small pleasures. In another sense, it was very audacious. First, because it was modest – when our society’s motto is “go big or go home.” Second, because it was predicated on experiences that, for the most part, would be considered unproductive within the capitalist paradigm that defines modern existence. Unmonetized creativity, leisure, human connection: these are things capitalism has no use for. Choosing them, in my perfect day, felt like a radical act – a very small one, to be sure, but radical all the same.

You might be wondering what my perfect day actually involved and waiting for me to tell you. I am not going to. Not only because it’s a deeply private and personal thing, but because it doesn’t matter. Not to you. Not even, at a certain level, to me. The goal of the perfect day exercise isn’t to come up with the ideal To Do list or schedule. It is to reveal, to yourself, the things that give life its purpose and meaning – for you.

I wouldn’t get hung up on the specific activities that you end up including in your perfect day. To me, those activities are merely stand-ins for the values or ideals that define the locus of purpose or meaning in one’s life. Look at your perfect day and ask: what are the common themes or threads here? Follow those threads, and you will eventually get to the definition of your purpose.

One way to architect your best life is to take your “perfect day” and expand it out. In other words, in a very literal sense, build a life that allows you to live your perfect day, every day. If you are fortunate enough to be able to do that, congratulations! Enjoy being exceptional 😉 If you are not – and, spoiler alert, most of us aren’t, at least not immediately – don’t worry. You don’t need to live the perfect day, every single day, in order to be living your best life. As far as I’m concerned, our best life is the life that makes room for and honours our purpose. Once we know what that purpose is, it becomes much easier to spot the ways and opportunities to incorporate it into our day-to-day life, tiny bit by tiny bit. You might be surprised by how tiny bits can add up! And those tiny bits can be different from the things that you included in your perfect day exercise – and, nevertheless, effective ways to practice your purpose.

From time to time, you might get the chance to actually live a “perfect day”. Seize it! Do it! It’ll feel wonderfully self-affirming … and if it doesn’t, then you’ll know it’s time to revisit the exercise. In fact, I think it’s good practice to repeat the exercise on a regular basis, at least every year or every other year. We grow, we evolve; it’s good to leave room for our purpose to grow and evolve too.

Now, I would love to hear from you: have you ever planned out your “perfect day” and, if so, what did you come away with from the exercise?