Ten years into any career can be a satisfying milestone. It can also be frustrating.
I’ve been thinking about this a lot lately, as it’s been 10 years since my first novel was published. Since then, I’ve written a second, which was also published, and had plans for writing a third. But after the second book, I lost all intrinsic motivation to write another.
Overall, I’ve been happy with the quality of both works and the editorial and production support from my publisher. But now that I’ve done what I set out to do, twice, I find myself thinking, “Now what?”
Read Also
Editor’s Note: No pressure
What is your playbook going into this year’s crop? Not an easy question to answer right now, given the global…
I’ve wondered whether my (modest) success is part of the issue. As renowned playwright Tennessee Williams wrote of his life before fame, it had been “a life of clawing and scratching along a sheer surface and holding on tight with raw fingers to every inch of rock higher than the one caught hold of before, but it was a good life because it was the sort of life for which the human organism is created.”
I don’t take this to mean that one must be financially struggling or otherwise in distress to live a meaningful life. But I think many of us like to face and overcome challenges in our work. Certainly Williams did — he wouldn’t have written plays such as A Streetcar Named Desire if he was satisfied with mediocre efforts.
The other thing is, success often doesn’t feel the way we think it should, or the way other people think it should.
Take Laurie Ann Prevost, who bought an apple orchard years ago. While her partner had some experience working on a farm, her background was business administration, and she soon found she was spending more time running the business than in the field.
“Everyone thinks it must be so nice and peaceful living on the farm,” said Prevost. “No, no, no. It’s a lot of work. It’s a lot more complicated than what I was expecting it to be.”
Not that Prevost intends to stop. She’s now got years of experience as a base. Sure, she’d do some things differently — start incrementally converting the apple orchard to newer varieties earlier, for one thing. But we can all look back and pick things we’d do differently. The question is how to move forward, now that we know what we know.
There are plenty of other farmers in our March 25 issue talking about what they’ve learned, and what they’re going to do next. Some are still working through “imposter syndrome.” Some are diversifying, while others are paring down. Some are focused on expansion. Some on the soil. Prevost is looking at ways to boost profitability while working fewer hours. Towards the end of the week, I read a proof of the article on motivation. Suggestions such as setting small, achievable goals and learning new techniques made sense to me, and have served me well in the past. But it was the advice to connect with people that resonated most right now.
So, over the weekend, I met a writing friend I hadn’t visited in a while. We had a long chat about writing and publishing, challenges we’ve both faced, plus one of the “reckonings” Canada’s literary community faced last year. I can’t tell you how good it felt to be able to talk to someone who knows how tough it is, but who also recognized that we have some agency. And afterward, I thought I might have an idea for a new, completely different type of book than what I’ve been pondering. I don’t think it’s necessarily a better idea, but it’s one that fires me up and leaves me energized. That’s always a good sign.
I hope our March issue serves as a catalyst or source of ideas for readers. We don’t aim to be prescriptive at Country Guide, but to show how farmers and ranchers are working through all kinds of challenges.
Whatever you’re working through, I hope you find some inspiration, too.
