For Wilshire Baptist Church
“If you want to hit the big time, you have to write and polish and keep doing that over and over again.”
That was the advice from the cowboy-hat-and-boot-wearing author of top-selling Western novels at the end of the day at the East Texas Book Fest a few weeks ago. He was funny and engaging as he talked about his journey from childhood dreamer to career man to second life as a prolific author of hide-and-leather fiction. And, he spoke the truth in his summary sentence about what it takes to be successful, but it was the end of a long day like so many other long days, and his words sort of floated to the floor as the other authors got ready to pack up and go home.
We’d attended the festival before and after a long COVID hiatus we decided to give it another try. I say it that way because the hope for these events is that we’ll sell some books. We did sell a few, enough to pay our “rent” as we call the table fee, but not enough to call it a living. It never is.
Still, these book events are always interesting. The organizers are always enthusiastic and the browsers always friendly even when they’re not buying. We make some new acquaintances for the day and LeAnn always runs into someone she knows. During lulls — and there’s always lulls — authors walk around and talk to each other, share war stories about agents and publishers, brag about successes and maybe embellish them too. Nobody wants to admit that “the big time” will probably never happen.
But why is “the big time” such a big deal anyway? Is being known as a best-selling author the only worthwhile goal? What about just the accomplishment of writing a book and getting it published? What about being appreciated by a small but loyal group of readers? Or sharing a part of yourself that may touch a life in a way that you can’t imagine and will never know?
I’m talking about this from the perspective of a writer, but it may apply to anyone: butcher, baker, candlestick maker. We do what we do because we love doing it, but then we wonder why we do what we do if the results are less than we hoped for or less than what the culture says we should strive for. And let’s face it, our culture is pretty much focused on fame and fortune nowadays. Perhaps it always has been, and as we get older and the time gets shorter, the question comes more often: Where is the big time?
It’s a universal question and our answer may be shaped by our faith in what comes next. If we believe that this life is all there is, then we may lean toward the fortune and fame definition of “the big time.” If we take the long view – the eternal view – then the smaller results can lead to something better than the “the big time” – “the best time.” In “the best time,” there’s no difference between a Grammy-winning recording artist and a local pub player; an arena-filling preacher and a small church pastor; a renowned surgeon and a family doctor; a real estate tycoon and a general contractor; a university president and a first-grade teacher; a million-selling author and a little-known writer sitting at a table in East Texas.
Even when pursuing “the best time,” the cowboy author was still right. To do something well, you have to learn it, work at it, polish it and keep repeating it until you know it is the best you can do. And then when you know it is your best, you can offer it as a service or gift or even a prayer to whoever wants to accept it and appreciate it, no matter how many or how few.