10 | The Writer • May 2020
FREELANCE SUCCESS
BY PETE CROATTO
You never “make it”
Here’s why I realized that’s OK.
AtomicRoderick/ShutterstockF
or the last two years, I have
worked on a book. When I
sent the copy edited manu-
script to my editor – the last
step before the Word doc becomes an
advance reader’s copy – I expected to
feel something. Instead, I returned to
my day gig copy editing blog posts for
a major consumer magazine without
so much as whoop or Michael Jordan-
inspired fist pump.
There’s a scene in the movie Parent-
hood when the patriarch (Jason
Robards) describes being a father to his
adult son (Steve Martin). “You never
cross the goal line, spike the ball, and do
your touchdown dance,” he says.
“Never.” That’s as apt a description for
writing as I’ve ever encountered as well
as the mindset required for this job.
I remember the first time I “made
it.” It was May 2008. I landed a full-
time freelance editing gig in New York
City, which allowed me to quit slinging
books and act like a publishing profes-
sional. That first day, I hopped on the
NJ Transit bus, navigated the subway
like a champ, and arrived early. I
decided to take a leisurely walk around
the neighborhood. I put on my iPod
and blasted Rufus Wainwright’s “14th
Street” and luxuriated in my narrative’s
dash toward a long, luxurious apex.
This, I thought to myself, was my time.
Didn’t every great writer’s story start
here? And in the summer, no less,
when the air is ripe with sewer steam
and luminous youth and sunshine off
old buildings.
Three months later, I was laid off. It
was the day before my birthday.
You never make it. I’ve been pub-
lished in The New York Times four
times. Each instance has been a legiti-
mate thrill, but my professional life has
remained as it was pre-byline. The
same with pretty much any story I’ve
ever written for any outlet. I long ago
stopped writing to please other people
or to become a sensation. I write to
indulge my curiosity. That’s one of
many celebrations.
•••The celebration is I enjoyed myself.
I made one promise with this book:
have fun. I don’t know if I’ll do this
again, so I wanted to make every daycount. I’m proud to say I kept that
promise, even though it goes against
my old standard operating procedure
of obsession and self-flagellation
mixed with a blender full of imposter
syndrome.
Getting over that required a lot of
time. The self-criticism was an elixir. If
I’m harder on myself than anyone, then
no criticism can possibly sting me! It
turns out that daily diet takes an enor-
mous toll on your psyche. I’m not sure
if I could have written 1,000 words a
day for five months if I felt that way. It’s
like running a marathon with a