Well Bless His Heart...
What do you do when someone else succeeds?
From the moment I knew that I would have to compete to achieve my bass trombone goals, I became an asshole… but only in my own brain... I hope.
Once I was bitten by the bug of success, I became hungry for more and more and more. It became a challenge to befriend other bass trombonists because deep down, I knew we wanted the same thing… to win!
For the record, just about every bass trombonist I met–in the practice rooms, at parties, at auditions–they were all fantastic individuals. Good people all in all… except that one guy who was a genuine Grade-A asshole, and you know who I’m talking about. Wink wink…
Despite the other players pleasant demeanors and our common interests, how on earth could I sit around and talk about frivolous things like amazing recordings, rumors about who plays on what equipment, and miraculous eBay finds? They probably wanted to press me for my knowledge my teacher shared of the classic and elusive Conn 1.5 G mouthpiece that had more bark in its sound than all the trees in King’s Canyon National Park. Or worse, someone was bound to play some head games by showing off and name drop, causing others to name drop and over-brag.
(My dear, dear friend, President Barack Obama, told me I should never, ever name drop, so don’t expect me to do it. Thanks 44! You’re the best!)
As time moved forward, we kept having bass trombone reunions at every audition, sometimes as little as a week apart from each other (now THAT was weird). As individuals, we progressed through our school lives and careers, still chasing that brass ring of massive success. Sure enough, there’d always be talk about who had some recent wins.
Did you hear that Sherman Blerman got to solo with the Fresno Jr. Wind Band?
I’d call Beatrice Featrice to sub for me, but she’s doing a Broadway show downtown.
Dude, Marmaduke Fudpucker won the East Mongolia Philharmonia gig!
Every time a new bit of news made my way about someone else’s success, my blood turned green with envy. It ran me back to the practice room to aggressively play through the wickedly hard excerpt from “Fountains of Rome,” just to remind myself I could still play it… even if I couldn’t.
At some point, I recognized the toxic effects of my emotional process. I began to hate, I began to despise, I started to get irrational. Thankfully, I realized that nothing external would change, so I needed to change something independently. I chose two courses of action:
I focused my practicing on more of what I needed.
I celebrated my competition’s wins, no matter how much it killed me.
“Good for them!”
This new phrase came out of my mouth a lot. The comforting effect is that I earnestly believed it, too. Despite my jealousy, I wanted to put a positive energy out to the world that celebrated, not destroyed.
So-and-so bought (insert big name here) ’s used horn, the one on that Fountains recording. Good for them.
Blah blah is touring with the Flimflam Symphony. Good for them.
Zig Zug won the Evansburgh audition. Good for them.
Every time I said it, I meant it. Every time I said it, I hoped the universe noticed it to improve my credit rating with Karma. Every time I said it, I looked forward to someone saying it about me. That meant I better go practice.
In my heart, I was bitterly jealous. There is no denying it and no shame in it (as long as I never talk about it with my outside voice). Many of our admired heroes and heroines found success through the motivation of their jealousy, dating back to Brutus, who was jealous of Julius Caesar, resulting in… okay, bad example.
As time passed, “Good for them” became the best mantra for me to say out loud, and I believed it to the depth of my soul… then I ran off and practiced Fountains again. It was getting better.
Books are not bass trombones.
As my artistic focus* shifted from winning orchestral bass trombone auditions to writing novels and fiction of various lengths, I figured out two things.
Writing success is solely dependent on the quality of work the writer produces. There is literally nothing you can do to prevent another writer from achieving success in their craft.
The above principle (#1) has been applicable to auditions since the beginning. I needed to step away from it in order to figure it out.
*(Combining “artistic focus” and “winning” makes for a toxic and soul-crushing concoction, as if you haven’t figured out by now. Drink responsibly)
The moment you jealously shift your focus onto the success of others, you have removed your focus from your own work and left it somewhere else. This concept easily fits into the folds of “While you’re playing video games, someone else is practicing right now, and you’re going to meet them at an audition, and they’re going to win.”
(There is without question the need to discuss the toxicity of that approach, but that is for someone else’s Substack. I’m preaching love and acceptance here.)
As I write this, someone else is querying. Someone else is preparing for a book release, or jotting down notes for their first conference panel about their fantastic debut novel. Someone is picking out a new outfit for the awards ceremony, or packing a suitcase to travel to Oslo to receive their Nobel Prize, while…
-My manuscript sits on an open tab next to this one on my browser, with highlighter streaks, strikethrough passages to be deleted, unanswered comments in the margins, and more excessive dialogue to be cut…
-My pile of research for my next book sits in a dusty pile next to my desk, all lined with bookmarks and PostIt notes in the front halves of the books since I haven’t fully read (or started one of) them…
-I write a Substack post on the bile of jealousy, as I see my feed filled up with posts by writers I admire doing things I still dream of doing, and I taste the bile of jealousy.
We want the world to be a better, happier, more positive place filled with great art in all its forms. Letting the poison of envy prevent this joy from emerging ruins a good time. Seek out inspiration, not hate. Share in someone else’s joy and support them; they will do the same for you when its your turn, and if you keep up your efforts, it will be.
Once you’re done popping corks and sending text messages of congratulations, get back to it. All your victories lie before you! I’ll say that again…
All your victories lie before you!
Or, in other words… Keep fucking writing!
And let me know if you find one of those Conn mouthpieces. I’m still looking…
Write on!
Two of my law school classmates have been governors of Virginia (both right-wingers), another one was editor-in-chief of Newsweek magazine and writes books about current affairs and public figures, one founded "Games" magazine, brought Sudoku to the U.S. (curse him!), one started the E! Entertainment Network.... Bless all their hearts!
+++
Wise, healthy attitude, my friend. On a related note, one of my critique partner's debut novel comes out this week. I am genuinely excited for her and touched that she mentioned me in the acknowledgements. Our group has been meeting for four years now, and I've been along on this novel's journey since it was a vague idea. Last week, this writer got an email from a fellow member of a long disbanded (at least a decade ago) critique group. Was the other woman writing to congratulate her, or say she will do her part by telling everyone to read this book? No. This woman complained because she was not mentioned in the acknowledgements! Jan, recognizing the jealousy, took the high road and replied with a nice note thanking her for her years of friendship. Life is too short for that petty sh*t.