made at the start. How? Were we lazy? Inattentive? Did we mean well but forget to factor in human nature? Did we assess reality incorrectly?
Whatever the cause, the Big Crash compels us to go back now and solve the problem that we either created directly or set into motion unwittingly at the outset.
Sartre said “Hell is other people,” but in this case, hell is us.
Panic Is Good
Creative panic is good. Here’s why:
Our greatest fear is fear of success.
When we are succeeding—that is, when we have begun to overcome our self-doubt and self-sabotage, when we are advancing in our craft and evolving to a higher level—that’s when panic strikes.
It did for me when my book crashed, and it was the best thing that happened to me all year.
When we experience panic, it means that we’re about to cross a threshold. We’re poised on the doorstep of a higher plane.
Have you ever watched a small child take a few bold steps away from its mother? The little boy or girl shows great courage. She ventures forth, feels exhilaration, and then … she realizes what she has done. She freaks. She bolts back to Mommy.
That’s you and me when we’re growing.
Next time, the child won’t run back to Mommy so fast. Next time, she’ll venture farther.
Her panic was momentary, a natural part of the process of growth.
That’s us as we rally and re-tackle the Big Crash. This time we’ll lick it. We’ll fix this jalopy and get it back on the road.
Panic is good. It’s a sign that we’re growing.
Back to Square One
In the belly of the beast, we go back to our allies:
Stupidity
Stubbornness
Blind faith
We are too dumb to quit and too mulish to back off.
In the belly of the beast, we remind ourselves of two axioms:
The problem is not us. The problem is the problem.
Work the problem.
The Problem Is the Problem
A professional does not take success or failure personally. That’s Priority Number One for us now.
That our project has crashed is not a reflection of our worth as human beings. It’s just a mistake. It’s a problem—and a problem can be solved.
Now we go back to our sheet of yellow foolscap.
Where did we go wrong? Where did this train go off the tracks?
Somewhere in the three sections on our sheet of foolscap—beginning, middle, and end—and in the final section, the summation of the theme … somewhere in there lies the answer. Why is it so hard to find? It’s hard because it’s hard.
I’m not trying to be cryptic or facetious. We went wrong at the start because the problem was so hard (and the act of solving it was so painful) that we ducked and dodged and bypassed. We hoped it would go away. We hoped it would solve itself. A little voice warned us then, but we were too smart to listen.
The bad news is, the problem is hell.
The good news is it’s just a problem.
It’s not us. We are not worthless or evil or crazy. We’re just us, facing a problem.
Work the Problem
Here’s what crashed in my book—and how I solved it:
The book, as I said, is called The Profession . It’s a military/political thriller set a few years in the future, when mercenary armies have replaced conventional ones.
Scene after scene almost worked. But they all ran onto the same rocks: the events were so proximate time-wise that they could be doubted and second-guessed. The reader could say, “That’s bullshit, I was there and it didn’t happen like that.” And the events were too emotionally charged (9/11 played a role and so did fictional withdrawals from Iraq and Afghanistan) and involved such painful real-world issues (did our troops die in vain?) that they overwhelmed the basically simple story and pulled it off its politically speculative-future theme.
Remember what we said before about friends and family? The answer came from there, from two people very
Whatever the cause, the Big Crash compels us to go back now and solve the problem that we either created directly or set into motion unwittingly at the outset.
Sartre said “Hell is other people,” but in this case, hell is us.
Panic Is Good
Creative panic is good. Here’s why:
Our greatest fear is fear of success.
When we are succeeding—that is, when we have begun to overcome our self-doubt and self-sabotage, when we are advancing in our craft and evolving to a higher level—that’s when panic strikes.
It did for me when my book crashed, and it was the best thing that happened to me all year.
When we experience panic, it means that we’re about to cross a threshold. We’re poised on the doorstep of a higher plane.
Have you ever watched a small child take a few bold steps away from its mother? The little boy or girl shows great courage. She ventures forth, feels exhilaration, and then … she realizes what she has done. She freaks. She bolts back to Mommy.
That’s you and me when we’re growing.
Next time, the child won’t run back to Mommy so fast. Next time, she’ll venture farther.
Her panic was momentary, a natural part of the process of growth.
That’s us as we rally and re-tackle the Big Crash. This time we’ll lick it. We’ll fix this jalopy and get it back on the road.
Panic is good. It’s a sign that we’re growing.
Back to Square One
In the belly of the beast, we go back to our allies:
Stupidity
Stubbornness
Blind faith
We are too dumb to quit and too mulish to back off.
In the belly of the beast, we remind ourselves of two axioms:
The problem is not us. The problem is the problem.
Work the problem.
The Problem Is the Problem
A professional does not take success or failure personally. That’s Priority Number One for us now.
That our project has crashed is not a reflection of our worth as human beings. It’s just a mistake. It’s a problem—and a problem can be solved.
Now we go back to our sheet of yellow foolscap.
Where did we go wrong? Where did this train go off the tracks?
Somewhere in the three sections on our sheet of foolscap—beginning, middle, and end—and in the final section, the summation of the theme … somewhere in there lies the answer. Why is it so hard to find? It’s hard because it’s hard.
I’m not trying to be cryptic or facetious. We went wrong at the start because the problem was so hard (and the act of solving it was so painful) that we ducked and dodged and bypassed. We hoped it would go away. We hoped it would solve itself. A little voice warned us then, but we were too smart to listen.
The bad news is, the problem is hell.
The good news is it’s just a problem.
It’s not us. We are not worthless or evil or crazy. We’re just us, facing a problem.
Work the Problem
Here’s what crashed in my book—and how I solved it:
The book, as I said, is called The Profession . It’s a military/political thriller set a few years in the future, when mercenary armies have replaced conventional ones.
Scene after scene almost worked. But they all ran onto the same rocks: the events were so proximate time-wise that they could be doubted and second-guessed. The reader could say, “That’s bullshit, I was there and it didn’t happen like that.” And the events were too emotionally charged (9/11 played a role and so did fictional withdrawals from Iraq and Afghanistan) and involved such painful real-world issues (did our troops die in vain?) that they overwhelmed the basically simple story and pulled it off its politically speculative-future theme.
Remember what we said before about friends and family? The answer came from there, from two people very
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