As a creative person, I believe in being optimistic. There is a lot to be said for the power of positive thinking. But one thing I've learned is that being naïvely optimistic is not very useful.
One theory that I think is hopelessly naive is that cream always rises to the top. This belief posits that people and things that have inherent quality will always find someone - or lots of someones - who will appreciate them. But to quote the famous number from the musical "Porgy and Bess," it ain't necessarily so.
As a writer, I've had a rude awakening that cream doesn't always rise to the top. When I was first starting out, I was very idealistic and assumed that if I just wrote the best book I could, poured all my energy into telling the best story possible and made sure every detail was authentic, readers would naturally flock to my awesome creation. As it turns out, this just isn't the case. It's wishful thinking.
How many crappy books become bestsellers that are turned into blockbuster movies? And on the flip side, how many literary masterpieces struggle to find an audience?
Furthermore, there are many bestsellers that almost never saw the light of day. There are countless stories of mega-selling authors whose manuscripts were rejected by numerous publishers until one insightful editor happened to see a spark of potential in the story, including J.K. Rowling's "Harry Potter." An agent reportedly once told F. Scott Fitzgerald that "The Great Gatsby" lacked "literary merit."
To fully understand the concept that cream doesn't necessarily rise to the top, you need only read the book "Desperate Networks." This inside look at the world of television cites example after example of now-beloved shows that were passed over by clueless network executives. These shows only made it on the air because some random person, such as a network executive's spouse or daughter, came across a video of a pilot for a show such as "Desperate Housewives" or "American Idol" and convinced their skeptical husband or father to greenlight the series that otherwise would have ended up on the scrap heap.
Don't get me wrong. I'm not arguing that if you're an aspiring writer or any other type of artist, you should just slap something together and throw it out there because you ultimately have no control over how audiences respond.
What I am saying is that by all means, we should strive to do our best work and channel our energy into making sure the books we write and the plays we stage and the albums we record and the movies we make reflect our most sincere, heartfelt efforts. But it's also important to not base our entire self-worth on the outcome.
No, cream doesn't automatically rise to the top. The often fickle taste of the general public has no built-in "quality control" process. People aren't born with some kind of "mediocrity detection" chip. Taste is, by its very nature, subjective. People like what they like.
It's only through hard work and persistence that our work will connect with appreciative audiences: creating the best art we can and then promoting the hell out of it through social media, paid advertising and other marketing avenues. It also doesn't hurt to have an aggressive publicist, agent or manager who isn't afraid to call gatekeepers a million times a day and pester them into turning a "no" or "maybe" into a firm "yes."
I've learned to adopt the following attitude: In whatever project I take on, I'm going to do the best I can, with the understanding that as far as the world is concerned, my best may not be good enough. And that's okay.
Because creating art for art's sake and putting beautiful things out in the world is worth it.
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