Today has been a perfectly normal day. I woke up, said my prayers, wrote a few emails, then did went off to church and the gym. The only reason I mention these otherwise mundane activities is because tomorrow is the manifestation of nearly three years of conceiving, writing, and getting published my new book, How to Be Better at (Almost) Everything. For all my previous book efforts, today and tomorrow would have entailed magnificent amounts of anticipation and worry and nail biting. I would have been manically flailing about, like Adrian Monk, trying to ensure every little thing was just how it should be.
But I’ve learned some things these past few years, if only a few. I’ve learned, first and foremost, that success is more about what you put in ahead of time, and more about what do over the long haul, than what you do on any given day. (The gym will teach you this, and so will playing guitar). I know my book will launch tomorrow not because of anything I do at this point, but because of everything I’ve done since submitting my final manuscript seven months ago.
Second is it just doesn’t really matter, after a certain point, does it? Because whatever could go wrong probably still will (Murphy’s Law, and all), and I’ll just stamp out those inconveniences whenever and whenever they emerge. No sense in fussing about something unpredictable. Plus, if it just so happens, as I’ve suspected it might, that I *do* come down meningitis before tomorrow evening, I’m sure somebody, perhaps even one of you, wouldn’t mind stepping in until I’m out of my coma. Because that, I’m told, is what friends are for.
But my intentions for writing have also been modified over the years, and quite dramatically. Before I wrote books because I thought writing books was cool. I wanted to be a published author so badly—and then I was. And then? Well, and then life was pretty much the same. As it turns out, getting published doesn’t instantly nor automatically secure a person’s contentment. So I’ve learned to adjust my expectations, and focus on writing because I love the craft and feel I have something to contribute, not because I believe having more books on the shelf is going to fill some enormous hole in my heart. I’ve got other things for that, like my Super Nintendo.
I write because I care, and because I love to. I write because I have something to tell people: that you can get better at things, and should get better at things, and, oh by the way here’s a cool way to do that, but you also don’t have to be the best in the world to get ahead or find what you’re looking for.
So I can take it easy today (somewhat, anyway) knowing I wrote the best book I am currently capable of. I hope to be able to write even better books in the future, as I continue to learn and study the work of others. But this is the very best book I could write as of today.
And I really hope you get a chance to read it.
– Pat