The forecast for 2015 is writing and insecurity and reformed narcissism just in time to discuss the benefits of accepting failure

Today is Insecure Writer's Support Group day, which rolls around once a month. According to Alex J. Cavanaugh and his Monday post, I'm supposed to write a short introduction to myself and put it before my entry. So here it is:

Michael Offutt writes speculative fiction books that have science fiction, LGBT, and paranormal elements. His first book, Slipstream has received some critical acclaim and was published by Double Dragon in 2012. The sequel, Oculus, came out in November 2012. He has one brother, no pets, and a few roots that keep his tree of life sufficiently watered. By day, he works for the State of Utah as a Technical Specialist. By night, he watches lots of t.v., writes, draws, and sometimes dreams of chocolate. 

Michael Offutt graduated from the University of Idaho in 1994 with a Bachelor's degree in English.

I suppose what makes this particular installment of the Insecure Writer's Support Group special for me is the fact that it lands on January 7th, which is just in time to examine New Year's resolutions and to take a moment to talk about the dangers of "forecasting" and planning your life based on the whimsy of fortune-tellers.

I consider myself to be a person with his feet firmly planted on the ground. But I wasn't always this way, because I listened to people who probably believed (to some extent) that they could see the future. And it led me to many bad decisions, a lot of wasted time, and a little bit of heartache. The problem with depending on "forecasts" is that they often emerge from a place filled with desire, and it has little if nothing to do with the actual truth. For example, speculators who "short" the stock market forecast that the economy is going to do terrible, that everything is going to hell in a hand-basket, and that if you're smart you should just run for the hills and keep your money buried in a pot in the garden. In contrast, "bulls" will tell you that the economy is constantly improving, that companies are hiring more people than ever, and that if you're smart, you'll put all your money into stocks to join the party where there's nothing but Levian chocolate diamonds, caviar, and good will.

Relationship "experts" do this too with lonely single people who are looking for help in attracting a partner. They'll forecast that "You'll find love" if you just do this and this and this. But I think that a lot of people (myself included) will end up accomplishing the list of things that they're supposed to do and end up empty-handed. "Well obviously you missed doing this at this precise time," an advisor might say. Or they might fall back on the idiom "there are no guarantees in life," which you really can't argue with so you might as well not even try. For the record, that phrase really serves only one point: to end an argument, which makes sense because the person uttering that phrase probably has little investment in you anyway.

Is there a universal truth? How about "just because you believe in something it doesn't have to be true." To clarify, there's what you believe and then there are facts, and in this universe the best that any of us can do is to take a measurement and record what we observe ourselves in order to better understand what's going on around us.

The field of publishing is rife with forecasts. "This year publishers will be looking for dark fantasy." "Young adult dystopians are so out; historical romances are in." "Portal fiction is so 2010. Now it's magic systems; the more original, the better." "No one wants a guy as a protagonist.""Don't write in third person." "Don't write in first-person." And the advice goes on and on and on, all of it based on "forecasts" of what a person believes makes money.

I'm sure that any of you out there who have been writing for a while have seen the "forecasts" and have tried to adjust your writing so that you aren't caught without an umbrella on a rainy day. But the danger of doing this for me was that writing became less enjoyable. I realized I was trying to "publish" instead of trying to create something that I loved. Writing is a business, and it probably took me over two years to fully embrace this concept--that all that matters is that a story have the widest possible appeal in order to sell the most books and thereby make the most money. If you know someone with a big book contract, it's because a company is convinced that what that person has to offer is going to make them money. They don't even have to have read the story, and many of them probably don't even care to.

I think what I'm trying to say is this: forecasts make me insecure because I wonder if I'll ever be able to fit in. When I write, it's to create something for me with no regard to whether or not anyone else will like it. And to anyone that feels the same way I do, I would encourage you to learn to ignore forecasts when it comes to certain things (like writing) unless all you want to do is make money. If you don't do this, you may end up seriously compromising what you truly want to say. However, if making money is your primary goal, then you probably don't have my insecurity issues. Knowing what I do about the publishing business though, I'd still say that 1) you should probably consider something else because very few writers actually make decent money with their books, and 2) best of luck to you because one of the most narcissistic professions out there is being an author.

So yeah, I'm saying if you're trying to write, chances are you're a narcissist. I'm not saying this is necessarily a bad thing, but I do know that one of the things that a narcissist feeds upon is energy from others. If you're doing all this writing, and no one is reading it or proclaiming your brilliance, then you're probably not getting very much emotional energy in return, which ends up slowly bleeding you dry and making you a miserable person.

No one can tell you what the future holds. For me, overcoming my insecurity about the future brought me inner peace in the present. I consider myself a "reformed narcissist," a person that has learned to set achievable goals, to accurately measure many things including my own value, and to recognize that there is no formula that can make you "fit in" with the popular kids. As a result, I'd say growing comfortable with certain levels of failure can in fact be the healthiest thing some of us can do.