How to Succeed: Sometimes, Very Slowly

When I decided I wanted to write, I had no reason to believe I could do it. I had not majored in journalism or English; I had never had a writing job; but I knew this was what I wanted to do. So I started setting goals. First they were small. I just wanted to get one thing in print, anything, even a paragraph. Then one day, one of my stories—a humor piece on being a handball widow—was published in a national handball magazine. I was out of my mind with joy and quite the hit at the handball courts for a few weeks.

The big question then was how to follow my act? I immediately set another goal. When I reached that one, I set another and then another and another. The most important thing about my goals was that one led to the next in a relatively logical formation. I didn't realize that while it was happening. In fact, I had no plan. Every time I reached a goal, I thought of something else I wanted to do, and that became my next target. Haphazard as my "system" was, it worked for me.

It took me four-and-a-half years to fill one little portfolio with published pieces. They are now yellow and somewhat brittle but they are testament to the power of putting one foot in front of the other. This was the lesson: Success doesn't always come in one dramatic leap. Most of the time, it is incremental, one tiny step at a time. Then, one day you look up and think, "Wow, I made it!"

You can't please everyone

I know how actors feel when they read the reviews the morning after opening night and find one scathing assessment of their work. The performance was bad; the script was worse; and the actor was beyond awful. Struggling to find something positive to write, the reviewer notes, "She did remember her lines." The actor travels from dumbfounded to disappointed to depressed in the space of one paragraph. She doesn't even recall the other reviews. THIS is the only one that matters.

The feelings are much the same when the review is about one's book. I know because I received one. It was just an e-mail, so the rest of the world didn't see it—or at least I hope not. The only good thing the reviewer had to to say was that I had "a way with words."

Today, a colleague sent me a review she had posted on-line. It was thoughtful; it was glowing; it was all over the Internet. I'm going to blow it up and have it made into a poster. The best part was how quickly it obliterated the preceding withering critique, which by the way, is the only one I've read.

With a little help from your friends

No one succeeds alone, no matter how talented, intelligent, or lucky that person may be. There is always another person—usually many people—along the path who open a door, share words of encouragement, or in some way make it possible to take the next step.

Whoever coined the phrase "pay it forward" was a genius. If you have achieved anything in your life, someone helped you, guided you, mentored you. You can't pay that person back; you can only pass the gift along.

The Space Between

Life transitions are confusing. Between endings and beginnings is a fallow space where nothing seems to be happening. Actually, it is a time of quiet creativity and renewal. Something new is in the works; you just can't see it.

Think about winter. Sometimes, it seems to go on forever. The world is cold and gray. It takes an act of faith to believe that Spring is going to burst forth one day. It always does (if you're lucky enough to live in a place with four seasons).

Life is like that. Something ends, and nothing seems to take it's place. But, eventually, something will. Nature abhors a vacuum.

When amazing things happen

Is there a magic formula for creating a successful life or career? There are all kinds of theories about how and why things happen in our lives and how much each of us has to do with the outcome. Some people believe in the power of goal getting; other, in sending your desires out to the universe, like Field of Dreams or The Secret.

In 1960, physician and author Maxwell Maltz likened the idea of setting goals to a torpedo, speeding toward its target. When the torpedo veers off course, an internal feedback system makes the necessary corrections and points it back to its programmed end point. Thus, we are responsible for knowing where we want to go and getting ourselves there.

There is another explanation and one I believe in. Never underestimate the existence of just plain luck. Call it synchronicity or serendipity or coincidence; but the fact is, sometimes you have no idea why something amazing happens to you.

How to Play Well With Others

When we describe someone as "egocentric," we are really saying that person is the center of his or her own universe. But when you think about it, aren't we all the center of our own universes? Don't we see things from our own perspectives? No matter what happens, don't we always think it's about us? Aren't we focused on our own needs and desires most of the time? Of course, we are, because we are human. But, if that's true, doesn't it stand to reason that other people see things from their own perspectives, think everything is about them, and focus on their own needs and desires, just as we do?

Yet, it seems to be extremely difficult to get along with people much of the time. We just don't get another person's perspective at all. Many people don't even realize there is a perspective other than their own. Here's a thought: What if, instead of always concentrating on our own needs, we could try to understand someone else's needs? Might we not have better relationships? The answer is YES.

Interpersonal skills boil down to a single question: What does this person need from me at this moment? If you can answer that question and give each person what he or she needs, however briefly, you can get along with anyone.

Assembling the Puzzle Pieces

Do you ever feel like the thing you're doing right now has nothing to do with your life? You were on a path but seem to have taken a wrong turn somewhere. You find yourself engaged in some activity that makes no sense. I have certainly experienced that "what-am-I-doing?" feeling, especially in my career.

I am a writer. I have always been a writer. Then, what was I doing selling training programs on the East Coast—driving up and down unfamiliar highways, losing my luggage every time I went to Philadelphia, hailing cabs in crazy Manhattan, and lugging sample cases through airports? I had no idea. It felt like an out-of-body experience until I looked back on it years later when I was selling myself to potential clients. I could never have done it if not for that totally unrelated stint as a sales rep back in the eighties.

Take the long view and realize that everything you do, no matter how inconsequential it may seem, is like a puzzle piece in a much bigger picture. The piece may not fit anywhere at first, but eventually the pattern will become clear.

One Way to Show Appreciation

I am about to have a book launch/signing with a friend and fellow author. As a rule I find book signings underwhelming—especially when they are held in the back corner of a bookstore, no one knows they're taking place, and the author is not particularly famous. First of all, why would anyone want a book signed by a total stranger unless they just like having a shelf full of signed books to show people.

I went to a book signing once and bought a book by a very good friend of mine. She sold a lot of books and probably had writer's cramp from writing the same greeting and her name over and over again. She looked happy to see me but wrote what she had written in everyone's book. I confess I was disappointed. I guess I wanted something just for me. I always write a personal note (usually too long), which is hard because I have trouble writing. I figure people don't want a generic phrase; they want to know I appreciate their taking the time to come and buy my book.

The whole process of writing and publishing a book is hard work, and I throw my heart into it. I always figure the person buying the book knows that and cares. Maybe that's an erroneous belief, but it makes me feel better about the whole process. So, I will bring my very best pens and write a personal note to every person who plunks down real money to buy the fruits of my labor. It's the only way I know to say "thank you."

The Power of a Promise

I had this brilliant idea about planning, writing, publishing, and promoting a book on my blog (The Writing Life) for all the world to see. It was daunting, but I did it. The whole process took six months—from concept to completion, except for implementing the marketing plan. I have no idea who followed my progress, or, to be honest, if anyone did. But I operated on the assumption that I had a large and loyal following. If people were actually reading the blog, they would expect me to honor my commitment.

The draft that appeared on The Writing Life was not the final one, of course. The manuscript underwent so many edits, it was probably unrecognizable at the end. But having an audience (even a make-believe one) forced me to stick to my self-imposed deadlines, no matter what. After forty years, I'm a pretty disciplined writer, but this book demanded more of me than anything I had done in the past.

It's funny how the lessons of your childhood never leave you. In my family, a promise was never broken. Saying I would see this through from beginning to end—in cyberspace—was a promise I made to my invisible audience. That alone got me through even the toughest times.

Thanking those who make me look good

Everything takes time. Everything is complicated. Even the littlest task seems to have sixty-seven sub-tasks, especially in relation to the Internet. I spend the better part of my life on the phone or on-line with "experts" in one specialized area or another: Web sites, shopping carts, blogs, social media, publishers, and more. Every time I think I've solved a problem, I find I have created a new one. Without my technological wizards I would be lost. If I make a mess, they clean it up or provide exactly the advice I need. I marvel at their skills.

Yet, I keep trying to do everything myself. From creating my Web site and setting up my shopping cart to designing my own book, I learned the hard way that I was in over my technological head. Eventually, I ran screaming for the help I should have sought at the outset. This seems like the perfect place to thank those who have come to my rescue again and again.

• Bobette Kyle (marketing and Web guru)
• Peggy Nehmen (book designer)
• Brett Fullmer (ShopSite designer and trainer)
• Denise Wakeman (blog consultant)
• Verio (Web site host and tech support)
• CreateSpace (digital printer)