Mark McGuinness - Resilience: Facing Down Rejection (22 page)

Of course these are all ‘hard’ measures, which are more important in fields such as business or sport, where success is more commonly defined in hard numbers. In other fields, such as the arts, success is based on ‘soft’ measures—quality not quantity. There’s no point writing thousands of words a day if you never improve.

But whatever path you are on, for the purposes of building momentum, it’s worth establishing some kind of hard metric, to give you a sense of measurable progress on those days when it feels as though you’re getting nowhere.

43. “You’re lucky”

Years ago I read an interview with The Cure. Surveying the restored Tudor mansion (owned by Richard Branson) where the band had recorded their latest album, the interviewers described the extravagantly comfortable surroundings and the “atmosphere of pleasant idleness.” Robert Smith agreed it was a fun place to live and work, but made it clear who had earned the comfort:

“People might say it’s easy for us, easy to sit around here for six months, but to get here hasn’t been easy.”

In a 2010 blog post where he shared his thoughts on the (alleged) ‘death of publishing,’ Chris Guillebeau described an article in which an author complained that the only people who sold books anymore were the ones with popular blogs.

This puzzled me. Where does a popular blog come from—does the blog fairy descend from the sky with a passionate group of readers, all eager to support a new writer? Or does it maybe have something to do with consistent, dedicated work over a long period of time?

One of the weird things about success is that people see what you have, not what it cost you to get it. They stop saying, “You’re crazy,” and start saying, “You’re lucky.” This can be annoying, but it shouldn’t be too hard to see the funny side. Or to enjoy it as a compliment.

Notes:

“Pictures of Youth” interview with The Cure,
Melody Maker
, 7 March 1992

Blog post by Chris Guillebeau:
http://chrisguillebeau.com/3x5/strategy-tactics-and-the-plan-for-the-next-97-days/

44. How to handle praise

“Never interrupt when someone is giving you a compliment.”

This is one of the best pieces of advice I ever received, for two reasons.

Firstly, when somebody gives you a gift, it’s rude to refuse it. Notice how
you
feel next time you compliment someone and they dismiss it with a wave of their hand. (Do they think you don’t know what you’re talking about? Or just flattering them?) So the least you can do is to hear them out and thank them for the gift.

Secondly, standing there and taking the compliment forces you to own up to the fact that you are in fact
delighted
to receive it. How many times have you brushed off a compliment in public, only to replay it and savor it in private? Exactly.

So next time someone offers you a compliment, look them in the eye, listen to what they say, then smile and thank them. You will both feel better. And you’ll be pleased to discover that acclimatization works just as well for embarrassment as it does for pain and humiliation—after a while, you get used to it and don’t feel it so much.

The same goes for praise of any kind—applause, a good review in a magazine, a public ‘thank you’ from your boss, an award—accept it graciously and enjoy it for what it’s worth. But beware of letting it go to your head. Just as you would with criticism, remind yourself that this is the opinion of one person, based on one set of criteria, at one moment in time. There are always alternatives.

And just as you would with criticism, notice the effect praise has on your heart, your ego, and your reputation.

Your heart

If your heart leaps when you are praised, that’s a pretty good sign the praise is merited. So enjoy it. You did something great and it probably cost you a lot, so savor the moment.

Your ego

Of course, your ego is thrilled too. But whereas your heart leaps for joy in the moment, your ego carries the praise round like a souvenir, repeating it over and over, and whispering in your ear, embellishing the praise and predicting a marvelous future for you.

Beware! Your ego does this as a way of inflating itself, but if you spend too long listening to it, you’ll lose touch with reality. And risk turning into an egomaniac. You’ve seen it happen to others; don’t let it happen to you.

Your reputation

Be realistic about the value of each piece of praise to your reputation. If it’s from a family, friend, or mentor, that’s a special kind of praise, to be savored in private. If it’s from a prominent thought leader in your field, you might consider asking for permission to quote it as a testimonial or reference.

Whatever you do with the praise you receive, don’t linger over it too long. Acknowledge it as a nice stopping point, but remind yourself there’s still a long way to go, and a lot more to be done.

Your next steps:

1. When receiving praise or compliments in person, always hear the speaker out, look them in the eye, and thank them. Give them the pleasure of seeing that you appreciate their words. If you feel embarrassed, don’t worry. The next time will be a little less excruciating…

2. Whatever kind of praise you receive, notice how it affects your heart, your ego, and your reputation:

• Your heart
  —you feel a surge of joy, enjoy it. If you don’t feel anything much, maybe you should take the praise with a pinch of salt.
  
• Your ego
  —notice how eager it is to repeat the praise, and flatter you with visions of a glorious future. Don’t try to stop it—it’s just your ego, and this is what egos do. But don’t pay too much attention.
  
• Your reputation
  —if the praise comes from an influential public figure, consider whether it would be appropriate to ask permission to reproduce it as a testimonial or similar.
  

3. Remember Martin O’Neill’s 48-hour rule—stop and enjoy the praise, but don’t stop for too long! Get back to work sooner rather than later.

45. Be kind

There’s a well-known story about the composer Rossini that exists in different versions. The gist of it is that a young composer visits the maestro and asks for feedback on his two latest compositions. Halfway through the first one, Rossini interrupts:

“You needn’t play any more. I prefer the other one.”

It’s a good story, but it doesn’t reflect very well on Rossini. (Let’s give him the benefit of the doubt, and assume it’s an urban myth.) This kind of thing makes for entertaining talent shows, but anyone who takes delight in delivering clever putdowns to people in a weaker position needs to take a good look in the mirror.

As an undergraduate I was lucky enough to be on the end of a more considerate variation on the Rossini approach to feedback, when the poet Seamus Heaney made himself available to give one-to-one feedback on students’ poems. This was before he won the Nobel Prize, but he was still a superstar, whose poetry I had been reading and studying for years. So it’s an understatement to say I was nervous as I sat waiting in the corridor with my manuscripts. When it was my turn, he ushered me in and patiently read through the three poems I had brought.

My heart was in my mouth. It was so quiet I could hear him breathe.

Then he looked up with a smile on his face and picked up the first poem. “If I were you,” he said, “I would have shown me this one first too.” He then went on to talk about what he liked about it, enthusing about the promising bits and encouraging me as much as he could. It was only gradually that it dawned on me that the other two poems probably had none of the redeeming features of the first one. But by that time I didn’t really mind, I was so pleased that he had found something he liked and was showing me how to improve it. When he finished by inviting me to submit the poem to a student anthology he was editing, I left the room floating on air.

When it’s your turn to critique someone’s work, be honest, but not brutally honest. Better to be remembered for your kindness by one ‘nobody’ than to go down in history as the master of the clever putdown.

46. Happily ever after?

In 1966 it looked like Brian Wilson had it made.

As the leader and creative genius behind the Beach Boys, he had followed up the critical and commercial success of the album
Pet Sounds
with the smash-hit ‘Good Vibrations’—the group’s third US No.1 which sold over a million copies. The
Guardian
dubbed him: “America’s equivalent of The Beatles with his ability to expand popular taste.”

The ‘Good Vibrations’ sessions ran to many hours, several studios, and a bill for $50,000 due to Wilson’s pursuit of perfection. Its success meant his record company forgave him and agreed to bankroll his next project, the ambitious
SMiLE
album. Which is when it all really began to fall apart.

The recording was disrupted by band tensions and litigation and eventually abandoned when Wilson suffered a nervous breakdown. One story described Wilson as ‘heartbroken’ when he heard excerpts from The Beatles’ forthcoming
Sergeant Pepper
album, and felt he could never surpass it with
SMiLE
.

Wilson spent years in the wilderness, suffering from drug addiction and mental health problems.
SMiLE
was spoken of as a legendary ‘lost’ album and its creator was routinely written off as a tortured genius who had lost his way.

In 2004 he stunned the world by not only completing and releasing
SMiLE
, but performing it in a series of stunning concerts, with a debut performance at the Royal Albert Hall. One of the album tracks won a Grammy for Best Rock Instrumental.

No wonder a Hollywood movie based on Wilson’s life is in the pipeline. He is an extreme case, but we can recognize his story as an archetype.

The rock star—like Elvis or Johnny Cash—who finds fame and fortune early on, only to slide into addiction, despair and/or obscurity, before making a rousing comeback late in life.

The entrepreneur—like Walt Disney or Steve Jobs—who achieves wealth and success early on, before losing his Midas touch, going bankrupt or getting fired—but rises again and delivers his biggest triumphs.

The sports legend—like Pélé or Andre Agassi—whose early successes are interrupted by injury and/or personal problems, who is written off before bouncing back to lift more trophies and cement his legendary status.

Even Buddhas may not be immune. Many stories about spiritual quests end with the words “and then he achieved enlightenment,” as if this were some final state that resolved all struggle.

Yet in his moving book
After the Ecstasy, the Laundry
, Jack Kornfield relays his conversations with many Tibetan Llamas, Zen masters and other spiritual gurus, who found that even spectacular enlightenment experiences (in monasteries, ashrams, and mountaintop retreats) were followed by all kinds of problems when they returned to the ‘real world’—depression, divorce, alcoholism, and lawsuits. True equanimity required them to accept their imperfections, and pick up their teaching from a more humble position.

We often think of ‘success’ as the end of the story—happily ever after. But more often than not, it’s happily in the middle—before another challenge comes along, and another round of striving and failing, rejection and criticism. The cycle ends with another and bigger ‘success’—which is wonderful but only a stopping point before the next cycle…

After you’ve been round the wheel a few times, you have a choice to make—either you get frustrated and disappointed by never reaching your ‘journey’s end’ or you start to enjoy the journey itself, relishing the challenges as well as the rewards, the downs as well as the ups.

Your next steps:

1. Think of a big challenge that you succeeded at.

When was the point that struggle gave way to success?

How did you keep yourself going until you reached that point?

2. Now think of a big disappointment you suffered, but recovered from.

What was the point at which things started to get better?

How did you pick yourself up?

3. Now think of a time you were hurt by criticism but lived to tell the tale.

At what point did you start to feel better?

How did you negate the effect of the criticism?

4. Now think of a big success from your past.

When did things start to get difficult again?

Did you resist the new challenge or embrace it?

5. Look back at the big picture of your journey so far, the ups as well as the downs.

What patterns can you see?

6. Now consider the future.

How can you remind yourself not to get discouraged when a new challenge appears?

How can you remind yourself not to get too caught up in the trappings of success?

47. The fascination of what’s difficult

I once attended an aikido black belt grading test. As a lowly yellow belt, I was in awe of the students grading for black belt. It had taken them years of practice to prepare for this test, and to me they looked like the embodiment of fluency and mastery. But something Clive MacDonald, one of the examining
sensei
, said to them before the test has stayed with me:

“Your black belt is your first belt.”

Of course, I knew that there were several grades (dans) of black belt. Having been thrown by first dans and a fourth dan, I can assure you there is a difference. But the sensei was suggesting something more radical: although we tend to think of a black belt as the ultimate achievement, we should treat it as a starting point, a marker of basic competence. The point at which learning begins.

When you are offered the job, or accepted onto the team, or certified, or published, or whatever, it can be tempting to feel like you’ve made it. But as any mountaineer knows, when you scale the highest peak you can see, another peak comes into view. If you’re content to stop climbing, the only way is down.