Regrets?

Regrets?  I’ve had a few…

I mean, who hasn’t?  The job opportunity you didn’t pursue, the romantic encounter you let go (or didn’t), even the insult you let slide, these can all be Morley’s ghost, clanging chains of what “might have been” on sleepless nights or depressing days.  I will say this: regrets are, for the most part, counterproductive and tend to be a form of self-pity.  Or self-punishment.  They represent a departure from that idealized vision of what we think we ought to be – strong, smart, savvy, etc – to what we really are – sometimes strong, sometimes smart, and sometimes pretty naive.  Face it, folks.  We all screw up on occasion, and while it helps to learn from those mistakes, it really doesn’t help to beat yourself up about them

There is a basic assumption when wallowing in regret, the idea that things would have been so much better if you had taken the alternative, turned down that other road.  But while you can reasonably assume they would be different, it’s rarely clear they would be better.  That job you didn’t take might have been a nightmare, the romantic tryst might have ended very badly, and the rebuttal to a perceived insult might have escalated into a brawl.  You can look back at a crossroads, but you can only peer a short distance down that road not taken.  And even then, those are rose-colored glasses perched on your nose, not corrective lenses.

Years ago, I was associated with an odd organization that was part literary agency and part publishing house that had begun uploading clients’ books onto Amazon; this was back when Amazon Books were just starting to surge.  The agent had essentially given up on the traditional publishing houses with 97% reject rates, long periods pending publication, and poor returns on anything other than the extremely successful.  This new approach actually put books out there and got authors some return on the investment of so much work.  

Well, I let The Paladin Trilogy play out this way for several years, and I got a small dribble of royalties coming in for very little effort on my part.  But when the sequels, The Gorgorin Wars, were finished, I decided I needed a new approach, including a change in pricing that I could achieve by cutting out the agent’s commission.  So, I ended my contract with the agent/publisher (who, to be fair, was very honest and accommodating), and began marketing the six books on my own.  Pretty much a disaster.  I went from small royalties on three books to no royalties on six.  But regrets?  Killed the goose that was at least laying copper eggs?  Not really.  First, the world of Amazon had changed in the intervening years, so past performance was no indication of future trends.  The royalties I had been receiving were less than $100/month, and I really had dreams of a much bigger return.  And I took a chance, got to roll the dice.  I’ve learned a great deal about the world of publishing and marketing, and I’ve employed that knowledge with my other works.  

So, what wisdom can I share from my various experiences?  What pearl of wisdom can I offer about regrets and self-recriminations?  

A rather curious one: you need to be your own best friend.  A best friend is the one that’s willing to tell you the hard truths, even when (or especially when) it hurts, and they stand by you in the hard times.  Most importantly, they always forgive.  They don’t ignore or forget, because they’re going to keep your eyes on those mistakes so you don’t make them again.  But they help you keep it in perspective, to recognize your inherent value, and realize that everybody screws up sometime.  They knock you off that silly pedestal on which you’ve erected your ideal self and, in the very best cases, get you to laugh at that cartoon image.  You need to find that best friend within yourself, the spirit that loves you.  Because you’ll always have you, even in the darkest times.  And that’s when you need a best friend most.