We not only air our dirty laundry, we turn each piece inside out, study the seams, stinks and stains, so we can proudly, faithfully reproduce it onto garments of our own design.
“What?” I asked in response, hoping the answer wasn’t obvious.
So, I poked a little at it. I turned it inside out and reverse engineered its construction. I reveled in it and then tried to make it disappear. It didn’t.
We all suffer from professional jealousy. All of us. There isn’t a writer among us, no matter how venerated or weighed down by awards that does not occasionally covet thy colleagues’ victories. It’s freaking normal.
We don’t discuss it because we are supposed to be “above it.” Artists and writers are selflessly suffering in pursuit of creation and edification. We write for reasons both moral and aesthetic; worldly concerns are, at best, beside the point, or at least, the icing on the cake (that is art). I call bullpucky. While I write because I think it is important, the worldly nods are the validation I need to make all the time (missed events, for example), the sacrifices (such as grown-up furniture and a 401K) and uncertainty (am I any good? Does anyone care what I make?) worthwhile. And I am not alone, am I?
We don’t discuss it because it can be seen as weakness. If I am jealous of your award nomination or first prize or new publication or book deal or whatever, then I am calling attention to the fact that I did not get nominated or win or am still, after two years, querying agent after agent for my unsold opus.
Life isn’t fair. “Mother Nature doesn’t care if you’re having fun.” (Niven’s Law #3). Sometimes deserved victories don’t happen and there is nothing you can do about it except deal.
In Part Two, I share my next five, which include strategies for healthfully and sanely dealing with professional jealousy before it eats a hole in your stomach lining, reputation, or both. Meanwhile, I’d love to hear your thoughts on these first five. Have I pulled out something from your dirty pile?
Yes. This. As much as I hate to admit it. Thank you. I can haz part 2?
This is very true. I often find myself envious of my fellows who all seem to be making it, while I struggle along unseen and wholly unsuccessful.
And yet, I’m still exceptionally happy for them because, I suppose, I can just imagine how it would feel for me to get my little corner of the pie. It’s hard not to be happy for those who are so deliriously happy. Even if I’m not.
Great article. I actually wrote a guest post about this a while ago – http://www.megancrewe.com/blog/?p=1701. It was a hard post to write, but I was amazed by how many writers tweeted or emailed me afterward to say it resonated with them. I think you’re right: We all, 100% of us, suffer from jealousy at least some of the time.
Nicely put. One of my ways of defusing it for myself is to joke with good friends “Does it rub off?” a la Ganesh or Buddha.
Very true. It also applies to announcements for sales or publications. The green-eyed monster rears its head when someone before you announces a publication and receives numerous congratulations, and you get only crickets when you announce a similar accomplishment a day later.
But we buckle down, invite the monster to tea, and keep going.
Very true, especially that not admitting it to yourself leads to worse festering and even poisoning of a friendship.