Disappointment and Promotion
When I was early in this writing/teaching career, I had a notion that once I crossed the hurdle of getting published for the first time, the rest would be onward and upward, like a funicular up the side of a mountain. That seems absurd now, but the idea persists among those starting out. I don’t know where it comes from, when tales abound of lucky breaks and set backs. The idea of climbing uphill one step at a time is appealing; it gives you a sense of control. If you stick to your writing schedule, if you make those connections, if you are a good literary citizen, if you find a good agent and editor; if you publish regularly, receive high marks on student surveys, cheerfully serve on committees, get along with your colleagues…you can manage your trajectory through academia and publishing without much trouble. Those five and ten year plans are so appealing in their surety.
But…that’s not the lived experience of anyone I know. Not mine, certainly. The trajectory looks more like a stock market graph, with peaks and troughs. A general trend upward, with luck…if you stayed in and didn’t panic and exit the whole shebang at a low moment; but far from idea that once you made contact with the outside world for the first time in the form of a publication or a job, it was all just work and celebration from then on. But not a straight line up up up.
This month has been a case in point. I had a big disappointment, didn’t get something I wanted badly, and it hurt. It hurt as much as such disappointments did when I was young, when I thought if I did my part the world would do its. Then there was a long middle period when I brushed rejection off, or at least acted as if, in an Ariana Grande thank you next mode.
But now that I am old, and know certain opportunities are last chances, failure hurts again, and now I let it. With this one I moped for two days, repeating words like, “I really wanted that, dammit,” over and over, until the pain got boring and I wanted to go back to the drawing board and throw a few more hats into the ring. It was actually a nice time. If you don’t regularly allow yourself to express disappointment, wallowing in it is like a mini break.
Failure used to feel deeply shameful. I couldn’t admit to myself that anything hurt, because, risking TMI here, I had been hurt too much when I was a child. A fresh hurt pulled a string taut between the present and the past.
So to say “this hurts now,” sans baggage, was a swim in a too cold pool, but still a swim. It hurt because I value myself and my work.
I have learned how to fail better.
Maybe having an academic career got me here. I was just promoted to full professor at Rutgers-Newark. The big cheese! This was not a funicular either. I started out as a part time lecturer. It’s rare that anyone who gives the milk at that level is ever the whole bought cow later on. But I love where I work and stayed, and moved around and up, not without road blocks and set backs, but it happened. I had great support along the way from a few people who looked beyond their own careers and saw what I brought to the community. I can clearly see the pivotal role they played, and I also see my own role, where I was dogged and where I was way too shy about accepting too little. Honestly I operated under many misconceptions for many years, and probably still do…check in with me ten years from now to see what I have learned by then. Above all, I stayed in, as I have with writing. Remember this maxim?
The disappointment and the promotion arrived in the same month, in the same career, peaks and troughs highlighted against the background of the whole rest of life. Have I been meditating more? Indeed.
I realize I have managed because I am “a lifelong learner.” Even now, this summer, I am taking a course at school on Course Design. You’d think after writing dozens of syllabi I wouldn’t need this, and yes, I could bumble on without it, but I always want to learn more, and I am. Now I know better than before how to align assignments with learning goals and build the course from rudimentary to complex cognitive activities. I always want all my students to achieve A’s, and this is giving me a new way to help them get there. I am writing a syllabus for myself incorporating these principles to get me through the novel I am writing. It’s fun, it’s illustrated! It’s keeping me off the streets.
When I have time, I also watch “summits” online about things like raw food diets, and taking MOOCs from sources like Coursera. A lot of universities also offer free online courses, offering an opportunity to be exposed to some of the great professors and experts in their fields. I love online classes from Commune and Daily Om. I’m a bit New Agey, to be honest.
Some of this is an antidote to the loneliness that is part of the writing life. I never want to stray too far from my desk, so don’t do excursions with friends or go out to lunch much. A video about the connection between Buddhism and existentialism smoothes over any FOMO or yearning for company I have during a work day. Summer is all work days…that’s when I can write.
So. The moral of this story, and thanks for reading it, is that I have learned that to be an eternal student is the true way up the mountain. A version of Beginner’s Mind. Curiosity above all. This is the background color to the graph of peaks and troughs that makes me want to keep moving toward the lifelong quest for self-actualization. Maybe someday I will understand how to celebrate. That hasn’t happened yet. Reason to Live # 1001.
News
Alice on Sunday is undergoing an internal review. Findings are that the title is hard to recall, and publishing only on Sunday is restrictive. The substack has received a great many pledges (thank you so much) and the consulting team says it’s time to monetize! No decision has been made yet. The team is going to repair to the woods for a few weeks to mediate on all this and see what comes next. More soon.
I’m leaving you with this beautiful film about Sam Lee and his singing with the nightingales. The tree climb is sublime. Happy summer!
Thank you so much. First congratulations you have worked so long and hard. So huge.
Sometime is hard to remember to put it in all in perspective. I have a dear friend who was kicked out of a surgical residency. That is it. Out of doctor work after so many years. He had ADHD which isn’t the best for a surgeon. However, after wallowing a bit and grieving he went to business school. Then he started inventing major medical devices. He is totally brilliant and is banned from certain rental car companies because he returned cars curbside at airports. Absent minded. His last invention sold for many billions before he even put it on the market. He doesn’t care about the money he simply loves what he does. Mid seventies and he is still creating his inventions. He has saved more lives than he ever could as a surgeon. We never know exactly what will happen.
Hi Alice,
Another wonderful post! I loved the idea of a fresh disappointment pulling taut the string between past and present.
Congratulations on your promotion to full professor. That is a huge win for adjuncts everywhere, many of whom are women.
Good that you are rethinking the name of your Substack. Does your full name have as much awareness as I'm hypothesizing it does? In that case, the new name should include your full name. Something like "Alice Elliot Dark on xyz." My humble two cents.
xoxo
Nancy