Our anticipation and response to fame should mirror the anticipation and response of the ancient acolyte to a visitation from the gods.
During the new moon the acolyte enters the temple, dons the vest, lights the incense, and prepares the sacrifice. In that prescribed order. There is nothing more he can do.
And then he waits.
With each piece of content the writer performs a similar ritual. She crafts the headline, neatly lays out one sentence at a time, shapes short paragraphs, selects the appropriate image, closes with style, and publishes it. That’s all she can do.
Then she must wait.
When the gods arrive the acolyte falls flat on his face, overwhelmed by a sense of fear, respect, and awe. He can not control whether they arrive or not. He is at their mercy.
When the audience arrives the writer falls flat on her face, overwhelmed by a sense of gratitude and obligation. She can not control whether they arrive or not. She is at their mercy. And grateful for any attention at all.
And that is the proper response to fame. Do you agree? Drop a comment.
P.S. Have you seen my new podcast Rough Draft?
A beautiful analogy Demian.
The acolyte never changes the routine. The writer also has a routine but it’s adaptive and fine tuned over time. As such, the writer should have an expectation of an audience arriving. The acolyte waits and hopes without any certainty.
Finally, for a content writer, the greatest privilege you can have is for you content to be shared or commented on, whether it be by a few or many.
Love the distinction, Mark. Absolutely spot on. Particularly this line: “As such, the writer should have the expectation of an audience arriving.”
Thank you, sir.
This post is a good reminder about letting go. Put in the time, get it as right as you can, and then post. And let it go. It’s out there now and all you can do is wait. Hopefully there will be an audience response. I love the response, for it helps me gauge how well I’m writing. Thanks, Demian
Yep, that’s exactly the response I’m after: just letting go.