Attempting to make a splash...

     Splash.
     It's one of those words, isn't it? I mean, virtually any word in the English language (and I presume other languages as well, though I do not speak them) can start to sound strange or funny or weird after a while, especially if you say it over and over again. The meaning the word is meant to convey starts stripping away from the surface, the sounds of the letters arranged just so start to lose their unity and the word just starts to become...nothing. A sound. A mixture of syllables of meaningless gibberish.
     Splash-splash-splash-splash-splash-splash-splash.
     See what I mean? No? Maybe it's just me. But I believe it's true. And certain words are more susceptible to this than others. Like 'Mother' it seems harder to do, where 'chicklet' seems to dive straight into this very pit almost immediately.
     So just what the hell is a 'splash' anyway?
     That's what I'm trying to figure out. I published my first novel a few months ago, A Murder of Saints, and had the fantasy I'm sure everyone who's ever created something has. It's going to be a HUGE hit! Right away, you're unknown, people are trying to figure out whether or not they want to part with their hard-earned dollars on you - that is, if they even happen to stumble across your work to begin with - but you're just convinced that YOUR creativity is going to change the laws of physics and make this huge, well...SPLASH!
     But that just doesn't happen. At least it happens so seldom that when it does it is the exception that proves the rule. Things don't just happen, you have to make them happen. And going into these creative endeavors, following your dreams if you will, we all know this on an intellectual level, yet we still convince ourselves somehow that we will be different from everyone else because we are so damned special. And we ARE special, right?
     Right?
     Sorry cupcake, we're not. Name one best-selling author who doesn't have an origin story of drowning in a sea of rejection letters or slow sales. They don't exist. An actor who walked into his first audition and landed the leading role in a Hollywood blockbuster. Nope. An artist who paints their first canvass and all the cigarette-holder-holders come breaking their doors down demanding to set up a gallery for the artist immediately. Uh-uh.
     This just doesn't happen. But what DOES happen, in literally every single success story out there, is a lot of hard work and rejection. Lots of frustrated, up-stream swimming, throwing of oneself in front of every single potential buyer/reader/customer/publisher/whatever they can, demanding to be noticed.
     And they do this for years. Decades sometimes. All the toil and sweat and tears and self-doubt along the way, focusing it, using it as fuel for their creative engines, until one day, FINALLY, someone takes notice.
     But even with all of that, it still doesn't always happen. Not for everyone. The thing is, making a big splash - at least initially or immediately - just doesn't happen. Not when no one knows you. The world doesn't owe us anything, people don't owe us anything, and expecting them to pull their wallets out for someone they've never heard of to purchase something they have no frame of reference for is a frigging pipe dream. There isn't always a huge boulder sitting precariously on the edge of a cliff over a still lake with a tractor handy to push it over. Good luck finding it.
     However, sometimes we can find a boulder buried under a pile of smaller rocks, all of which are holding the bigger one in place. If we can be patient, and put in the work of removing a rock at a time, and making SMALL splashes, over and over and over again, we can uncover that boulder. And if we're lucky, by the time we've moved all those smaller rocks, we've become strong enough to push the boulder in.
     Then we might get our big SPLASH.
     So that's where I am right now. I'm tossing little rocks in the lake, as often as I can, making little ripples and a few small waves, but nothing drastic yet. No one is calling me the next Stephen King or Gillian Flynn. And chances are they aren't going to call you this either. Certainly not at first. People become powerhouses by putting in the work and continuing to work, both in pushing the old and creating the new. If you think it's all just going to happen, that the stars are going to align all just for you, keep dreaming.
     Anyway, I'm rambling now, and these words are starting to look funny to me. So, if you'll excuse me, I have a pile of small rocks to move. Oh, and go buy my book.

A Murder of Saints

~Chris Miller, author of A Murder of Saints