Friday, October 23, 2009

Mariano Rivera : Writing as Persistence : Published

I wrote the title of this blog post in the form of a Miller Analogy Test question because I think Rivera's story is an analogy for success, both in writing and in life.  If you've never heard of the Miller Analogy Test before (MAT), it's a "high-level mental ability test requiring the solution of problems stated as analogies."  Or, as I like to describe it, "the reason I was able to attend graduate school because they accepted the MAT in place of the GRE."   With the baseball season coming to close, I felt it appropriate to blog about the Mariano Rivera article I recently read in Sports Illustrated (of course I read this after I had finished re-reading some Dostoyevsky, naturally).







The article by Tom Verducci paints a vivid portrait of a workhorse baseball player, whose hall of fame career may be most responsible for the Yankee's modern day dynasty.  What separates Rivera from other "pitchers" (because let's face it, there is a difference between a "pitcher" and a "thrower") is that he possesses a single weapon--one pitch that dominates almost every hitter he faces.  In a mind game such as baseball, one would think knowing what pitch a pitcher was going to throw would be a huge advantage for the hitter.  That's not the case with Rivera.  As Mike Sweeny of the Kansas City Royals explains, "you know what's coming, but you know what's coming in horror movies too."


I like to read about successful people, regardless of industry or relevance to my own life, just to see what nuggets I can pull from their story and apply to my own.  Rivera's approach to life and the game are rich with lessons that resonated with me--as a story teller, husband and father.  Perhaps some of these lessons will connect with you as well.


Lesson One:  Go with Your Gift.
Rivera was throwing during practice and his catcher, pal Ramero Mendoza, was getting angry.  The ball kept dipping and dropping five feet from Mendoza's glove.  He thought Rivera was doing it intentionally.  That wasn't the case.  It was that at that throwing practice when something about Rivera's delivery suddenly changed.   Rivera called it a "gift from God".  Hitters would come to call it a nightmare.  Balls don't drop five feet from the plate like Rivera's pitch was suddenly doing.  When that happens, it makes it almost impossible for a hitter to make solid contact with his bat.  Rivera realized he had a very special gift and he made the most of it.


As a writer, I have certain talents that are uniquely my own.  It would serve me no good to try to imitate the talents and styles of others I admire.  I have to trust my skills and believe in myself.   I think it's easy to judge your insides to other people's outsides.  I doubt however, that this is a good strategy for learning how to first find, then focus on using your gifts.  Rivera intimately knows the gift he possesses.  And he uses that gift, game after game, that one single gift of one exceptional pitch to not only execute, but to dominate.







Lesson Two:  Embrace the Grind
The baseball season is REALLY long.  160+ games starting April ending, if you're lucky, in October (oh, but spring training begins in February).  Writing a novel is a long process as well.  Starting with a blank page, and ending when you have no more hair to pull out.  Rivera plays the regular season to get to the post season.  For an author that's the equivalent of writing your novel (the regular season) and the ONE month after your book is published, when the work is considered "hot" (post season).  It seems like a lot of upfront work for a short lived payoff, but that's not true if you're playing to get to the post season.  That's the game of baseball and it seems that's the game of writing as well.  Do the work, embrace the work day after day, all the while, keep your eye on the post season prize and hope your book sells to your measure of success, be it bestseller, or three hundred copies of an e-book.


Lesson Three: R-E-S-P-E-C-T
Rivera respects everybody.  The rookie hitter.  Pitchers from rival teams.  Guys in their prime and the ones on the decline.  He'll joke and rib and poke fun at anybody, but he'll do it in a way that says--"I respect you, but that doesn't mean I won't try to get in your head and beat you."  He also respects his body (no clubbing, no crazy late nights) and his routine as well.  Shows up at the same time, leaves when it's over.  He does the same warm up, and cools down the same old way.  He doesn't tire of it either.  That's because he respects the game most of all.  No--he LOVES the game.  Rivera will tell (as in share the secret) anybody who asks how he throws his killer pitch.  Why would give away trade secrets in a game as secretive as baseball?  Because he respects their desire to learn and he's not afraid of competition.  He embraces it, knowing that better competition it will only advance the art of the game.


I think much can be gained by respecting everybody in the writing community.  Those who have a long list of bestsellers to their credit, and those hoping to be published one day soon.  It's fine your competitive spirit for sure, but folks will be quick to respect you if they believe you respect them in return.  Clint Eastwood once famously said, 




"Respect your efforts, respect yourself. Self respect leads to self discipline. When you have both firmly under your belt, that's real power."  This is so very true.






Lesson Four:  Focus, not Confidence
It's easy as a writer to get caught up in the roller coaster of emotions that come with our chosen passion.  We're emotional creatures after all and I spend my day trying to convey different emotions with words.  But that can happen on the page; it doesn't need to bleed into my real life.  So you get rejected--fine, move on.  You get a publishing contract--great, time to write.  Your sales are less than expected--fine, move on.  Not say that you shouldn't celebrate your victories along the way.  But the disciple to write and finish that book comes not from having a schedule tacked to your wall, but from a commitment you make to yourself to go the distance no matter what highs and lows you encounter along the way.


For me this is the most important lesson of all.  My rejection pile from agents and publishers is a stack of papers, whereas my acceptance pile is but a single sheet.  In this business, it only takes one to say "yes".  Perhaps in publishing, it's not the best writers who land that coveted book contract, but the most focused and persistent ones who do.  


What are your thoughts on Mariano Rivera's story?  Does it connect with you as it did to me?  If you like my sharing what I learn as I read about the habits of highly successful folk leave me a comment.  It will inspire me to continue to do so.