“The truth, revealed by action in the direction of our dreams, is that there is room for all of us. But jealousy produces tunnel vision. It narrows our ability to see things in perspective. It strips us of our ability to see other options. The biggest lie that jealousy tells us is that we have no choice but to be jealous. Perversely, jealousy strips us of our will to act when action holds the key to our freedom.”
—JULIA CAMERON, THE ARTIST’S WAY
This was a hard chapter to write. Mostly because I had to be brutally honest and share a few things I’d rather not invite the world to see. But this book is titled Write Naked for a reason. If I’m not ready to get messy and real, what’s the point?
I’ve had a difficult time with envy. I’m not proud of it. When readers see this, there’s going to be a lot of shock, because I hide it quite well. I’m also going to give advice that may not be politically correct. But I’ll tell the truth.
As humans, we all experience envy. Jealousy. I try to separate them in a way that makes it clear.
First, I looked up the definitions and found envy and jealousy, by definition, to be pretty much the same. But we can use it differently in our writing to reflect a personal choice.
Since this is my book, I’m claiming my right to show how I perceive the difference between envy and jealousy, and how I guide myself through the maze of mess.
ENVY: Simply put, you really, really want what your neighbor has, but you don’t hate your neighbor. She can have it, no problem. In fact, you want her to have it, but you want it for yourself, too. Can’t we all just be happy together?
JEALOUSY: Basically, you want what your neighbor has, but you are pissed that your neighbor has what you have wanted forever. You worked so damn hard to attain it, but still don’t have it, and you secretly think they don’t even deserve it. You want to take it. You don’t want your neighbor to have it. You want it for yourself.
Knowing the difference is key. Sometimes I can soothe myself by admitting I’m experiencing envy, but I’ve not stooped to the primitive, awful emotions of jealousy yet.
It also makes rational sense. If your good friend wins a million dollars, you are over the moon happy for her. But you really want a million dollars, too. You’ll experience some discomfort with being envious of your friend, but you don’t want to take that million dollars away from her.
Now, let’s gift that million dollars to an enemy. Say you hate your next-door neighbor. You think she’s obnoxious, entitled, and arrogant. You hear she won a million dollars and your first reaction is rage. How could she possibly be rich? She’s not a good person. You’re better than her. You deserve a million dollars more, because you’d share it, help the world, and be modest about it. Now the jealousy hits hard, and you seethe with this poison that seeps into your veins and keeps turning over and over in your mind.
I have spent my life trying to be grateful for what I have. I learned the lessons well from my own mother. I was also raised in a strict Catholic household. I attended Bible classes, religious instruction, and church every Sunday. When my girlfriend would hold sleepovers, I was the one forced to leave at the crack of dawn to attend church, my mother beeping for me in the driveway. I resented my Catholic upbringing for a long time.
I hated church. It was boring. I often felt guilty, sitting there as I used that time to fantasize about kissing or sex scenes from my latest book or story. Sometimes I wondered if the altar would blow up due to my irreverence.
But I learned something very important from my religion. We were supposed to follow the Ten Commandments stringently. And one of them is “Thou shalt not covet thy neighbor’s wife.” When I asked for further explanation, I received an in-depth lesson on envy and jealousy.
Once, when my friend got a really cool Smurfs toy that my parent’s couldn’t afford, I was envious. And when my fake friend got picked as the National Spelling Bee contestant and pretended to be sad for me, I was jealous.
But covetousness wasn’t the only commandment I wanted to break. We were supposed to attend church services every Sunday, but I hated it, and I swore I’d stop attending when I was old enough to make that decision for myself. My mother, shocked and appalled, asked me why I didn’t want to go to church. I told her I was bored and got nothing out of it. I didn’t feel close to God, and I didn’t feel transformed when I left church. I only felt pissed off that I’d lost an hour of my weekend.
One Sunday I received a sermon from our priest, one that has served me quite well over the years. He spoke about serving God. He told a story about a man who prayed to God on his knees, on a hard, cold floor, day after day after day. Another man always joined him, doing the same.
After weeks, the priest asked both men about their experiences praying. The first man told him he felt transformed by prayer. He swore he never experienced the physical discomfort of sore knees or legs. He loved every moment of it.
The second man said he felt nothing. He complained about the pains in his legs, the creak in his bones, and the cold in the air. He said by the time he was done praying, he could only hobble out of the church. He said he didn’t know if God was there—he never sensed a light, God speaking to him, or a sign he was doing the right thing. He confessed the prayer session was very difficult for him.
The priest asked the congregation which man was closer to God. Imagine my surprise when he explained it was the second man. Why?
Because he was honest. Praying sucked. But he loved God, and he did it anyway. Day after day after day, no matter what happened. No matter what didn’t happen.
The priest said he was accomplishing something very important for a man of faith.
He faked it till he made it.
He may not have felt anything, but he showed up. He went through the motions until enough time had passed that the pain dulled and praying became a habit.
We may not feel a certain way, but we can certainly act a certain way. God didn’t judge the man by what he felt or didn’t feel. God appreciated that this man showed up to pray, rain or shine, happy or angry. He went through the motions to show his intention of faith.
Would the man who prayed faithfully continue on a regular basis if he stopped sensing God’s presence? Did he have the moxie to continue, or would it be easy to abandon when he stopped getting the results he wanted?
I’m not sure.
How does this story relate to this chapter?
When I experience a bolt of raw, primal jealousy, I make sure my actions are positive in order to contradict the negative emotion.
Here’s an example: When I was just starting out, I had a lot of publishers interested in my books, but at that time, they’d keep my manuscripts for months before deciding to reject or accept the book. I had an acquaintance who seemed to be at the same crossroads. She was close to getting “the call,” just as I was. We wrote for similar markets and both of us have strong voices.
One day, she got the call. I was envious, but I wished her well. She began regularly publishing books and building popularity.
I racked up more rejection letters.
I began to obsess. I’d read her books and truly believed mine were just as good. Why wasn’t I getting published? Then one day, her book was the top pick for a popular book club, and suddenly, her career skyrocketed.
It was a true Cinderella story. Her books were everywhere: airports, bookstores, featured in magazines. She received great press and fabulous reviews. She became the darling of the romance world, and as I watched her career explode beyond reach, I began to feel something worse than envy.
Jealousy.
My obsession grew. I let the bad feelings twist and turn inside, until I felt like I could burst. Suddenly it didn’t matter where I was in my career, because I’d never be her. I wasted valuable time comparing our careers, worrying about mine, and getting angry over something I wanted to feel joyful about. Things continued to spiral, as I received more rejections and realized she’d be a famous author and I’d be a failure.
I’m not proud of my feelings, but they were real. And then I realized another thing. I couldn’t keep living like that. I felt overshadowed, as if nothing I did was good enough, but this writer had done nothing to deserve my inner wrath. She deserved my support. She had proven that hard work and perseverance are rewarded in time. She paved the way for everyone and showed me that anything was possible if you never, ever quit.
So I decided to do something to turn the tides of my dark emotions. I went out and bought her books. I wrote her an e-mail congratulating her. I supported her in social groups and referred her books to friends.
My actions contradicted my feelings. I turned bad into good. I faked it until I made it.
Eventually it happened. The bad stuff eased, and I saw past the ugliness. Finally, I could concentrate on my journey. And now I use this lesson time and time again when jealousy shakes my foundation and leaves me helpless and embarrassed.
I want to be a good person. I believe I am a good person. But occasionally, I am only human.
If you ever find yourself crippled by jealousy, or even depressed from reading everyone’s perfect and happy Facebook status, take these steps:
This approach has allowed me to become a real friend to the same one I once envied. Also, remember that this person is human, too. We only know the story everyone is talking about, not what really happened. Like that perfect marriage that breeds discontent behind closed doors, we cannot imagine what that author went through or is still going through. It may be all wine and roses on social media, but it may be stress, angst, confusion, and fear in real life.
It’s not always all good.
When I begin to stray off course, looking over my shoulder or comparing my career to another, I remind myself one Holy Grail of truth.
There will always be someone more successful than you. Always.
There will always be someone less successful than you. Always.
I like this quote from Carrie Ann Ryan, reminding us to focus on our own journey:
Head down, but not out. I’m constantly aware of changes in the market, promotion, craft, books I want to read, books others want to read, but I try not to let it overwhelm me. I can’t write the next book and be who I need to be without keeping my head down at the same time. My head is down, writing what I love and knowing that while I need to pay attention to the market, it’s not the only thing. I need to enjoy what I write and I also need to remember it’s a business. It’s a balance between the two, but being envious of another because my head isn’t down and on my own projects isn’t the answer.
Spending too much time obsessing with others’ good or bad fortune takes energy from the writing. With every book you write, you have the chance for success. If you don’t write anything, you will never have an opportunity to succeed.
When my book The Marriage Bargain hit the best-seller lists and my career exploded, I truly appreciated what that author had gone through. I hadn’t counted on the many bad things to be twisted in with the good. I hadn’t realized I’d be called a fleeting, overnight success when I’d been writing regularly for twenty years, trying to make a living. I watched while others around me scrambled, judged, or stood beside me with strong support.
I’ll tell you this: If those people who had my back felt any envy or jealousy, I didn’t care. Their actions of kindness and support were all that truly mattered. And if they reached out to me even while they were jealous of my success, I understand, and I would have thanked them if I knew.
Actions do speak louder than words. Or feelings.
I still get jealous. And envious. But I’m more in tune with my limitations now, and I know when I’m looking outward instead of at my newest project. In other words, I have better coping skills now. I also take the time to close my eyes when I’m feeling rotten and to say a quick thank-you for what I do have. But if you receive an e-mail from me, praising your writing skills and congratulating you on hitting a list, please don’t think that I’m secretly seething with jealousy.
These days I don’t have to fake it as much, because my practices helped me find balance. I have realized that I am my own worst enemy. It was once easy to turn someone else’s success into my own personal failure. I can recognize this tendency more accurately and stop the spiral before it takes hold.
I find when I’m feeling a bit raw, or struggling, I remove myself from social media for a while. Just to take a breath. How many times have you struggled with your word count, figured out you’re probably getting dropped from your publisher, or checked your Amazon stats to see your sales tanked? Then you open up Facebook or Twitter and see this status everywhere:
I just wrote 7K today! #amwriting
Woot! Finished my book and signed a new 3 book contract!
Thank you to all my readers for keeping my book on the best-seller list for 5 weeks! #readersrock
Yes, great stuff. Most of the time, you celebrate with them. Occasionally, when you are struggling with self-doubts, don’t be afraid to turn off the computer and come back when you feel a bit stronger.
Writers are such sensitive creatures. We grow skin like rhinos to cope with the world, but inside we remain a mushy mess. We crave acceptance and love for our work. Is that so wrong? To want to share something beautiful with the world? Why should we torture ourselves for wanting to give back, for wanting to practice a creative art that makes sense of our lives?
Why is it so easy to remember the one crappy review and forget the multiple reviews praising our skill and thanking us for the book?
We’re going to have to deal with jealousy at all stages of our careers. When we’re not published, we’re jealous of the published. When we’re not signing big contracts, we’re jealous of those seven-figure deals. When we don’t hit the best-seller lists, we’re jealous of those who do. It’s an endless, vicious cycle. Break it by practicing kindness. Doing so allows your heart to catch up until you realize you’re not really faking it anymore.
Somehow, along the way, the goodwill and acceptance become real.
Take a few minutes to go over your writing journey and your accomplishments. It doesn’t matter if you’re at the beginning or the peak of your career. Every word written, every rejection received, every book published means something, because it was a step forward that celebrated your creativity. Take the mental journey and then thank yourself for your bravery. Sometimes we turn our jealousy inward and brutalize our fragile psyche. This is a time to celebrate your accomplishments, not your failures. Write down the things you are most proud of. When you feel like crap, take out the list and remind yourself of how brave you truly are.