I’m currently listening to the audiobook of The Art of Possibility (thanks to the recommendation of author Annabelle Raven), and trying hard to deconstruct ideas I have about how I’m unqualified to be the authority figure in my own life. But that’s a little heavier for the happy tone I’m going for… So let me say that I appreciate the permission, and in fact needed the permission, to construct my own authority. In my adulthood, I’ve noticed a pattern of looking for best practices when it comes to just about everything, including being an author. What is the best way to sign a book? What are the expectations around author newsletters? Who can summarize the best practices for me?
The exercise of imaging your future self writing a letter about why something positive happened is a fun exercise. And the examples Benjamin Zander shares of his music students who did this are lovely and cheery. Yet the coveted A+, gold stars, performance reviews are all invented. Competition is an evolutionary drive from years of living in a world where resources were scarce and scary things were intent on eating us at every moment of the day.
If abundance is a more successful and accurate mindset for navigating possibilities of modern life, and if As and gold stars aren’t real, but fabricated, why can’t I give them to myself? It’s an intriguing question.
But what if what I want I can’t give to myself? What if I can’t land a dream job or find readers or make the lab results from the doctor’s office say what I want them to say?
I was struck by a line from the audiobook that posits, “Trying and achieving are the same thing.”
Groundhog Day is approaching, and as such the classic movie by the same name is on my mind. In this movie Phil, a self-centered TV weather man, becomes a hero worthy of a happily-ever-after by repeating the same day over and over. It’s a wildly entertaining process of trying, failing, and trying again. Phil achieves his goals but not through the means he initially expected. The process of trial and error has changed him for the better. Artifice and shortcuts are not how he finds happiness and purpose, but rather small acts of kindness and self-improvement that accumulate over time. Phil tries day by day to be a better man until he is a better man. “Trying and achieving are the same thing.”
Maybe this statement is not only true but profound. And maybe this is exactly what I need to hear. Because trying is achievable. There is no limit to how many times I can try to be healthy, try to show up for my family, try to be a better writer, try to make it as an author, try to finish the book I’m dedicating to my son, and try to savor the little whimsical moments of absurdity, beauty, and joy that I value so deeply.
Doesn’t the poet of our present era sing, “I’ve never been a natural, All I do is try, try, try.”?
So below is my entry in the “How I Got My A” letter project. Is it cringe? Oh, yes! Was it worth trying? Oh, yes! Do I recommend the practice? Yes! Especially since negativity bias is so darn pervasive for us humans. Cheers to the abundance of possibilities in our modern life! Have you ever written a letter to your future self? Come tell me how it worked out.
Dear Future Amy,
You got your agent, book deal, 1000 true fans/readers, healthiest labs ever, adoring children, dream job, dream home because… You never gave up trying. You stopped looking to others to define success and achievement, and leaned into expressing your values of whimsy, romance, compassion, escapism, and kindness. You pivoted to a model where you celebrated and embraced your efforts in real time. You gave up chasing trends for genuine self expression. Your joy and enthusiasm became infectious. You adopted and accepted the notion that you were the authority in the world of Amy Trent and that authority spanned the page, the virtual page, and your real life.
You became an agented author because you tried to be an agented author. You became a better writer because you tried to be a better writer. You became a better marketer, because you tried to be a better marketer. And trying and achieving are the same things. You made plans and then, most importantly, you tried to implement them.
The nuts and bolts, which you’ve always loved keeping track of, are pretty simple. You set a goal to finish your MG manuscript. And your wrote it. And you revised it. And then You queried it. A lit agent offered you representation. You went on sub. You kept writing. You leaned into you. You rediscovered your love or drafting. You finished your dragon fairy tale for your son. You published it. And then you went on to finish drafting the many (many) other projects that are in various stages of incomplete.
Writing, you discovered, is not hard. Eating well and living well is not hard. The hoping and wishing and attaching expectations to your craft, steps, wellness is the hard part. Showing up and trying to get down one more chapter in your messy dravision process became a daily habit. Embracing your love of movement and eating things that grow in the ground became second nature.
Final note. You decided negative bias no longer needed to be your PA. Today became a good day for celebrating every win. I could end this letter with the rallying cry of “never give up” but I prefer to say…
To Trying Again,
Present Amy