You Can't Win Them All
and that's okay.
Perhaps you’ve heard, but today — mere hours after I type this — Las Vegas is hosting a football game/Usher concert/Taylor Swift outfit watch. Or as I like to think of it, simply, nachos.
Come tomorrow, the airwaves will be abuzz with folks unpacking and commenting and dissecting all of the above (except, regrettably, the nachos, which rarely dominate the zeitgeist). There will be talk of saturation points and conspiracies and relevancy, along with links to purchase Taylor’s lipstick and merch emblazoned with the champion team.
All of it has me thinking about winning. About sensations. About that hard-to-define point where hard work and talent and preparedness and luck convene. In the writer-scape, we call it going viral (which I’ve always found odd as viruses aren’t typically a positive). Some of it is within our control; much of it is beyond. Even for superstars.
So today, I’m sharing a previously published essay on exactly this. It’s a personal favorite and a pep talk I very much needed. Perhaps it will resonate with you, too.
As always, today’s card reading is all new.
Once upon a time in a previous life, I worked as an acquiring editor at a publishing house. On my first day, my new boss welcomed me with a one-sentence summary of my role: “Your job is to make hits.”
The statement was simple. The sentiment was not.
How does one make hits? The answer is anyone’s guess. (If someone tells you otherwise, they’re likely peddling snake oil.)
Sure, there are no shortage of ideas, strategies, and ingredients that have worked before: A fresh new voice. A “marketable” personality. A large social media following. A strong concept, catchy idea, or clever hook. A well-designed package. A unique story with a universal appeal. And yes, all of it helps. But at the end of the day, it’s a bit like when supermodels cite their beauty secrets as “water and sleep” and business moguls say the path to success is paved with “hard work and perseverance.” Results may vary.
If there were a surefire formula for transcendence, everyone would follow it. But there’s also a bit of magic required. Luck, timing, some je ne sais quois. A perfect storm. By its very definition, a hit is an outlier. Something that broke the mold, shocked the system, fared better than all the rest. The stuff of Avatar and the Harry Potter franchise and The Eras Tour.
“Do you think they knew this would be a hit when they recorded it?” I ask, whenever a top 10 song comes on the radio. Because I really do wonder. And just as frequently, I wonder how many had the opposite experience, recording a soon-to-be-sensation that never quite took off?
We may never be gifted with a glimpse of the “worst-sellers list” or a round-up of work that narrowly missed making a splash. But we know they’re out there. And statistically, they happen a lot more often.
Whenever I sit down to write (this newsletter included), I remind myself, “they cannot all be hits.” I say this not to discourage myself, but so that I can actually type something. Because if I start off with the pressure to say something profound and hilarious and resonant and amazing, I promise you, nothing will come out.
Pressure is the enemy of creativity. (And also inner peace.) I speak from experience when I say focusing on the end goal is a surefire way to stifle your process and ruin your life. If that sounds dramatic, well, so am I when I’m standing in my own way.
But really, how is good work meant to grow amidst that kind of pressure? It’s like screaming at your garden with the fury of an NFL coach whose team is down at the Super Bowl. Your garden needs water, not ire. Encouragement, not anger. And people are the same way.
So instead, I try to approach the day with a beginner’s mind. I remember the way it felt to write stories when I was a kid. Or when I decided to join a random fiction writing group when I was twenty-two, to distract myself from a job that I hated. Or how it felt when I typed up the first issue of this newsletter with no plan for what came next. I attempt to come at it from a place of curiosity and interest and fun — the opposite of pressure. (It doesn’t always work, but it does always help.)
The best part about being a beginner is that you’re not aware of the knowledge you’re lacking. You can’t see the possible stumbling blocks. You don’t know if you’re setting out on an impossible task. You’re not yet focused on making a hit — you’re just trying to make something. And when you’re learning and experimenting and seeing what works, a lot of good can come out of that.
Sure, you can dream of the end goal, if that’s an exercise you find motivating. But when it comes to the process, the only way anything happens is step by incremental step, gradually building on what came before it.
They cannot all be hits. That’s just basic math.
A “hit,” after all, is a very narrow definition of success — critically acclaimed and commercially successful. And sure, that sounds like a dream. But trying to reverse engineer one is like trying to make a meteor shower or a thunderstorm or any other awe-inspiring natural occurrence—really not our business.
It’s been many years since that editor job, and my former colleagues and I still muse about how none of us knows the recipe for making a hit. But some of them now have multiple hits to their names, the natural outcome of time, experience, nurturing mentors, and investing in projects they believe in.
The world is too full — an endless scroll, vying for our dollars, attention, and time. Perhaps it’s more important to feel good about the work you’re doing, the way you are contributing, whatever form that may take. (And if it amounts to accolades or sales or acclaim, then that can be a bonus.)
How about making work that matters? Work we care about? That speaks to someone and provides connection and perhaps brightens their day? Something helpful. Something useful. Something kind. Something true.
I may never know how to make a hit. But I’d like to make a difference.
When Emerson wrote, “To be great is to be misunderstood,” he was not focused on developing a blockbuster, nor was he trying to appeal to the masses. But he was speaking a lot of truth.
Sometimes you’ll be ahead of your time or the joke won’t land or the recipient of your email won’t give you the time of day. Sometimes you’ll be the runner up. Sometimes you won’t even be in contention.
Every successful comic has bombed.
Every quarter cannot yield a stellar review.
There will be days, months, even entire seasons that do not go our way.
And that’s okay.
How liberating to accept that a project’s success ultimately isn’t up to us — only its quality. You can pour your heart into it. You can give it your time and attention. You can leave it all on the page. But how the world (or audience or boss or family) reacts is very much not up to you.
Whenever I finish an essay or manuscript or newsletter, I do my best to let it go, releasing it to the world to whom it now belongs.
“Good luck out there!” I think, as I press send. (Sometimes I say it out loud, or offer a little wave.) I’ve done what I could; my job ends there.
I hope it finds that special blend of magic. But this, like so many things, is out of my hands.
They cannot all be hits, but if you’d like to make this day a hit (for me) and receive a letter like this one every Sunday, consider becoming a paid subscriber. Every subscription truly means so much.
Paid subscribers will get a fresh personal essay on Wednesday, and I’ll be opening up appointments for 1:1 readings at that time. The giveaway is also running until then, so if you haven’t yet read last Wednesday’s letter there’s still time to enter!
Card of the Week
Here is this week’s card for the collective, as well as some thoughts to carry into the days ahead. As most modern readers will tell you, the tarot is not about fortunetelling, nor is it about neat, definitive answers. The cards are simply one path to reflection, a way of better knowing ourselves and others through universal themes. If this reading resonates with you, great! And if not, no worries. Take whatever may be helpful and leave the rest.
When I look back at my younger years, a number of patterns become clear. For one, I see that I was attracted to certain people — dates, employers, companions — not because I liked them, but because I wanted to be like them.
They were artists or entrepreneurs who never doubted the value of their contributions. They honored their passions. They seized the day.
They were doers. And as I saw it, I was not.
The Knight of Wands is the preeminent doer. You might find them starting a company, diving head first into a project, or applying for a job or program despite not having the requisite experience. They may be doing this despite only having the idea yesterday. Seventy people might have told them why their idea was sure to be a failure, but that only added fuel to the fire.
And odds are, they’ll succeed. If not today, maybe next time.
This card brings to mind certain enigmatic CEOs — bursting with charm, charisma, energy… not the most humble of the bunch. They are ruled by passion, infused with magnetism. Hot and hot-headed in equal measure.
So, what does this have to do with us? Maybe you see yourself in the Knight of Wands, and maybe not so much. Either way, this week’s message is both a call to action and an invitation to appreciate what is before us.
This card invites us to ride the wave, to find inspiration where we can. But most importantly, it reminds us to make it ours. Imagine if we could adopt some of these ideals, but apply them in a way that aligns with our values?
Imagine. This is one of the knight’s favorite words. They don’t necessarily recognize the limit between what one can dream and what is possible. As far as they’re concerned, to imagine is as good as to plan. And while this kind of energy can be a lot in the room, it can be invigorating in the limitless realm of our minds.
The Knight of Wands wants to hear about a deeply held ambition, desire, dream. What can you do to make it happen? Why haven’t you done it yet? (You may have a valid answer to this last question. But the knight asks you to consider it, all the same.)
Think of the people you admire, maybe even those who inspire envy. What do you most admire about them? What qualities do they possess that you’d most like to emulate? What can this teach you — not about them, but about yourself?
For better and for worse, the Knight of Wands is always on the move. They don’t stop and reflect, or appreciate their success. They don’t take stock of what they’ve learned, or a moment to recalibrate. It’s always on to the next (bigger and better) thing.
As we scratch beneath the surface, this card gives way to a cautionary tale: do not lose sight of humanity, in ourselves and others. No matter what you do or achieve or create — a brand, a masterpiece, an empire — you are, and always will be, a person.
No one is perfect.
(Not even our heroes.)
No one is infallible.
No one has it all figured out.
So be inspired, but not discouraged, by the pieces you see. There is always more to the story.
This card wishes to remind us that the world is full of interests, full of possibilities, full of plot twists. One setback does not mean the whole venture is a bust. One “no” does not an ending make. Most success stories start with a whole lot of failures. Everyone — even experts — has to start somewhere.
Just as the Knight of Wands is setting their sights on the next adventure, so may we.
Favorite line, “I may never know how to make a hit. But I’d like to make a difference.” Words to live by.
I loved this. Especially for Super Bowl weekend. (I just watch for the overpriced commercials 🫢)
I think when you’re really enjoying the journey and focusing less on the outcome, that is when you know you’ve found your thing. Of course big bang rewards are great too. I’ve learned that enjoying your everyday is just as glorious as winning the Super Bowl.