Regina Sirois Inspiration Revisited

All the way back in August I attended a workshop in Topeka where author Regina Sirois was the keynote speaker. I said at the time that it was quite possibly the most powerful talk I have ever heard about our lives as writers, and it still holds true. I have found myself reflecting on her talk again and again in the weeks since.

Regina compared writing to mountain climbing. She actually told some very moving stories about people who had climbed Mt. Everest. The way she pulled it all together was simply amazing. I was inspired and touched in equal measure. I actually had to pull out a tissue during her talk. I'm pretty sure I wasn't the only one in the room who got tearful.

Since there is no way I could ever do justice to Regina's speech, I'm simply going to leave it at this; if you ever get the chance to hear her speak, go! Listen. She's a powerful speaker.

But a little bit of my take-away, the message that grabbed hold of me and continues to echo in my head from day to day, that part I will attempt to share here.

If success in writing is akin to reaching the summit of Mt. Everest, the lesson we writers need to learn from the mountain climbers is that nobody lives at the top of that mountain. It's a thrilling victory, for sure. It's a marvelous view. But life is what happens at the base of the mountain. And as writers, the bulk of our lives is going to be spent working our way up the mountain, and coming down again, and simply living, day-to-day, at the base of that mountain.

We might define success as simply publishing a book, or selling 100 copies of that book, or selling 500 copies of that book, or making somebody's best seller list with that book... whatever success is, it's not a place you live. You don't go and camp on Mt. Success, saying, "I've won. I'm at the top of the mountain now. I have arrived."

The book might be the gold star; the view from the top of the mountain is certainly reward in itself, but where you live, what you choose to do with the rest of your time, that is what really counts.

A particularly poignant part of Regina's speech was when she talked about the people who die trying to climb Mt. Everest. In fact, reaching the summit doesn't seem to be the hardest part. It's the coming down again. So many people who don't make it down from Mt. Everest, actually make it all the way to the top before they are defeated, often somewhere along the road on the way back down.

With writers, I think it is the same. I've met so many people who have published books, and in some small way, I hope most of them recognize that publication as at least some sort of victory. But far too many stand there, book in hand, saying, "I've done it. I've written my book. Why am I not standing on top of the mountain? I don't like the view from where I'm at."

It would be easy to be that person, standing somewhere on the path, not really going up or down, wondering how it is that I've packed my gear, I've done some hiking, and yet I really can't see from here the view I was hoping to see. It would be easy to see my work as having failed.

If I am to become the writer I would one day like to be, it's going to be a series of trips up that mountain and back down again. Maybe, it's going to be understanding that this is a little mountain I have crested, and the view from the top of it was wonderful and brief and now I need to learn how to climb a bigger mountain.

In a recent email exchange with a yet-to-be-published author, I wrote, "I am convinced that writing is a profession of constantly becoming."

Becoming what? That's entirely up to each individual writer, I suppose.

I've been censoring myself here, I've come to realize. I've had lots of blog posts and thoughts on writing to share, but now that I'm a published writer, I've been doubting much of what I've come up with to share. I didn't want to sound like a novice, you see. I didn't want to defeat my previous victory--the published book--by admitting that I still don't always feel like I know what I'm doing.

I've been hesitant to say, "Yes, I've seen the view from the summit, but I'm not sure my mountain is the mountain you are looking for."

Everyone climbs their own mountain.

Everyone defines success in their own way, and if they are lucky, in my view, that definition is fluid and changing.

My new email-pal returned a note yesterday morning saying that my "thoughts were so affirmative" and that my advice was "a vital green light" that she was on the right path. For just a moment, while reading that email, I caught a glimpse of the view again. It felt good to know that I was part of giving someone else at least the belief, the possibility that they were on the right mountain, and that getting up it was possible from where they stood. Maybe someone's journey was easier, for at least a moment, because I was there, willing to extend a hand.

I am a writer, and I am still becoming the writer that I would one day like to be.

If you are a writer, too, I say welcome to the mountain. Don't give up. Don't wait for the perfect Sherpa to come along and show you the way, or be your guide. Just write. Learn. And write some more. Enjoy each success, and keep going, up or down the mountain, or camping out at the base for a while, it's all good. It's all about living.