The Secret to Failure

I was going to be a lawyer. That was my dream when I started college, and I still wanted it when I graduated.

But not a single law school accepted me.

Failure.

The reason I failed is simple. I didn't get accepted because I didn't apply.

Why did I doom myself to failure? The story is too long for a blog post, but after changing my major and working hard for a B average, I decided I didn't have what it took. So I changed course and entered a PhD program in psychology.

I did quite well in graduate school, but I wasn't happy. And the dream kept nagging at me.

Tomorrow I will be speaking to a group of high school students. I was asked to talk about what inspired me in my profession, but I'm going to talk about failure, instead.

Avoiding or overcoming failure, that is. Because after earning my master's degree, I changed course again and did what I should have done earlier.

And this time two law schools accepted me.

That led to thirty years in a successful and fulfilling law career. A career I enjoyed immensely, even after the dream changed.

This time, the dream said, "Write."

The first dream was fulfilled and the second is in progress. Although I've had one book and a number of magazine articles and devotions published, I've also received my share of rejection slips. But even the rejections are successes.

Because you aren't a failure until you stop trying.

Dream Small

Dream small? If we don't dream, we won't accomplish anything. And don't bigger dreams lead to bigger accomplishments?

Not necessarily. Few people get the chance to be president of the United States or to play in the NBA. If the person who dreams of being president isn't willing to work for it or the basketball player has no talent, then the big dream means less than a small dream that the dreamer can accomplish. Yes, it is good to stretch yourself, but bigger doesn't always mean better. Butterflies add as much joy to our lives as elephants do.

So what brought this on?

Now that Roland and I are empty nesters, we are thinking of making a slight lifestyle change and moving from a house to a condo. I want a dedicated office, Roland wants a place to exercise, and we both want one-story living so we won't have to worry about stairs when we get older. But unlike many of the home buyers on HGTV's Househunters, 2000-3000 square feet isn't one of our requirements. Neither is a jetted tub or a walk-in closet, although we will take them if we can get them.

A large home isn't in our budget, and it isn't our dream, either. Why pay for square footage we would rarely use? Our dream is small, but it is also realistic.

That doesn't mean I don't have any big dreams. I aspire to write the great American novel and make the New York Times bestseller list. But it will never happen unless I put in the time and effort to write.

Because all dreams--big or small--need a touch of realism.

Dreams Take Work

Sleeping in the dorm. Eating in the dining hall. Walking across campus to attend class.

My college days? Well, that too. But I'm talking about a writers' conference I attended earlier this month.

The Write-to-Publish Conference is held annually at Wheaton College in Wheaton, Illinois. (I don't want anyone to confuse it with Wheaton College in Massachusetts. Write-to-Publish is held at the one that Billy Graham actually attended.) It is a four-day Christian conference that offers multiple opportunities for writers to improve their craft and make contact with editors and agents.

What did I get out of it? New friends. The joy that comes from worshiping with other Christian writers. Lots of good information on marketing my book and expanding my speaking ministry. The opportunity to submit my novel to a publishing house that doesn't take unsolicited submissions. Another lead for my children's book. (And yes, I submitted both the novel and the children's book two days after returning home.)

I try to attend one major writers' conference a year. This year is an exception: I'll be attending two. That's because I had already planned to attend Write-to-Publish when I discovered that American Christian Fiction Writers is holding its annual conference in my backyard this year. Or maybe not quite my backyard, but 2 and 1/2 driving hours away isn't bad. So I'll be going there in September.

Many of you don't see yourselves as writers, but all of you have dreams. We all benefit from time away to develop our skills and re-energize those dreams, whatever they may be.

So take some time to follow yours.

It Was a Dark and Stormy Night

It was a dark and stormy night. Or not.

I entered the world at a hospital in Southern Michigan, and I don't remember a single thing about it: especially not the weather. But, like Snoopy, I was born to write (hopefully with less cliched opening lines).

My first attempts to be a published writer came in high school. I submitted a murder mystery (so bad I shuddered when I read it years later) to Ellery Queen Mystery Magazine and a children's story (better) to Jack and Jill. Both magazines rejected my work. I also submitted several poems to a regional poetry magazine, which published them. Unfortunately, I can't remember either the poems or the name of the magazine.

Even with that success, I never thought about being a full-time writer. For most of my early years I wanted to be a teacher or a doctor or even both (following in the footsteps of my favorite teacher and her husband). Then came my junior year of high school and a re-evaluation: now I wanted to be Perry Mason.

I eventually realized my dream of being a lawyer, but I never became Perry Mason. It didn't take me long to discover that I couldn't think on my feet well enough to be a litigator. But that was okay, because lawyers who don't litigate still write, and I loved writing. I also loved being a lawyer. For the longest time, I couldn't picture myself in any other profession.

That changed in the summer of 2003 when Roland and I dropped our son off at camp as a prelude to our first childless vacation in twenty years. While standing in the registration line, I noticed a rack of books for sale. One was If You Want to Walk on Water, You've Got to Get Out of the Boat by John Ortberg. The title intrigued me, so I bought the book, took it on vacation, and consumed it. That's when I knew God was calling me to a new career.

Did I start immediately? No. I was enthusiastic enough, but Roland wasn't. And I believe that God was in the details, teaching me to be patient and trust in His timing. So I went home and started writing on the side.

In 2006, I added a writing day by becoming a part-time lawyer, although I still put in a four-day week at my salaried job. But I've finally stepped out of the boat. We paid off our mortgage in November, and I retired on December 31st with Roland's blessing.

I was a practicing lawyer for thirty years, and that's what I was meant to be at the time. On New Year's Day I finally became a full-time writer, and it just feels right. Now if I could only interest a publisher in my great American novel . . .

* * *

Are you doing what you want with your life? Or are you ready to step out of the boat? I'd love to read your answers.

Piano Dreams

No, I don't want a new piano. Now that I've finally gotten it tuned, I'm perfectly happy with the one I have. What I do want is the skill to play it.

I can read music, and I know which notes on the paper belong to which keys on the piano, but my brain doesn't move quickly enough when matching the two and sending its messages to my fingers. Worse, with age and lack of exercise, my fingers have lost what little dexterity they had.

When I was growing up, my mother gave my brothers and me piano lessons. Unfortunately, there were two problems. First, Mama's teaching job kept her busy during the school year, so we only received lessons in the summer. And with my aversion to practicing, my progress was always two steps forward, one step back. (Or, more accurately, two baby steps forward, one giant step back.)

The second problem was that I had no one to impress. My mother was, after all, my mother, and she was going to love me no matter how well I played. Our church organist gave lessons, and I wonder if I would have been more motivated learning from her.

I like music and have always regretted that I slacked off when I had a chance to become an adequate pianist. I'm not talking Carnegie Hall, here, but it would be nice to sit down and play hymns correctly the first time through (or even the second or third or fourth . . .).

As a child, knowing how to play appealed to me, but practicing didn't. And although I probably had a sneaking suspicion that the first required the second, I didn't have a strong enough desire for the first to do the second. If I could have seen into the future, would it have changed things?

Probably not. I was a child, and I thought as a child.

So now that I'm an adult, I play easy pieces to please my ear and maybe to entertain people who won't recognize how simple they are. And I practice slightly harder ones when no one is around to hear my mistakes and the pauses that aren't written into the music. Oh to have my lost opportunities back.

And not to waste the ones still ahead.

Do you regret lost dreams? Leave a comment and tell me about them.

We'll Name It "Das Luftschloss"

My husband and I give our sailboats German names. The first was Zeltlagermanie ("Camp mania"), and our second (and current) is Freizeit ("free time"). And yes, that is Freizeit in the blog header.

We went to the Strictly Sail show just over a week ago and found our third boat: a Beneteau 37. I fell in love with a vanity table that would make a perfect laptop desk for my writing, and Roland fell in love with the location of the raw-water impeller. (The raw-water impeller pumps water through the engine to keep it cool. It needs to be replaced once a year, and Freizeit's impeller is almost impossible to get to, especially if it should fail while we're out on the water.) It's amazing how much the little things contribute to falling in love.

I also have a name for our new Beneteau 37: Das Luftschloss ("air castle"). That's because, at almost $200,000, it is just a pipe dream. Still, there's nothing wrong with building castles in the air if you are realistic about your chances of lowering them onto solid ground. Maybe when my book hits the New York Times' bestseller list . . .

It takes an active imagination to write Romeo and Juliet, to create a country like Narnia, to invent the flying machine, and to find a cure for polio. So dreams can be good things to have. (Okay, so maybe a new sailboat isn't quite as noble a quest, but bear with me here.)

Dreams can be counterproductive if they get in the way of more important matters, such as faith, family, and friends and neighbors (in the broadest sense). I would rather lose the dream than have to name the boat Das Idol. (I'll let you figure that one out.)

Until then, I'll continue building castles in the air.