The Excessive Hype of the Illusion of Celebrity

I often wonder to myself if anyone (in their right mind) would consider becoming an artist if the illusion of celebrity didn't exist? The reason why I bring up this particular idea is because of an interview I read with Sean Penn (In an action sports magazine, of all places!) where he speaks to this idea:

"Part of me feels that one of the biggest fights I have to fight has nothing to do with the excessive hype of the illusion of celebrity. I mean, even if we paid teachers the same wage as actors--i.e., if we lived in a fair world--you'd still have to wrestle with your performance as an actor. I mean, you're trapped in your own nature, your body, your own rhythm and weaknesses."

Now, while very few (if any) writers today achieve that level of success, ALL writers are subjected to their own illusions of success, or more specifically, public success (successes acknowledged by the public). So, I ask again: would anyone in their right mind consider becoming an artist if public successes/acknowledgement were removed?

To a certain degree, the argument is moot because the public cannot be removed. It seems pretty obvious right? It's akin to the old thought experiment: If a tree falls in the woods, and there's no one there to hear it, does it make a sound? If an artist creates a work that no one experiences or cares about, does it even exist? Does it even matter?

A very wonderful and talented writer friend of mine told me recently that genre writers search for an audience, while literary writers search for their ideal reader. A more insensitive way of putting it is: you have writers who only give a shit about the money and the public, and you have writers who only give a shit about the art/experience. Now, I'm not assuming that one approach is more correct or virtuous than the other. In some cases, both approaches can be very right and very wrong. However, here's what I believe to be the most important lesson that a true artist can gain from what Sean Penn said: Even if you remove the illusion of public success, you (the TRUE artist) still has to wrestle with your own performance. It's really a matter of currency types. For some, the currency is money. For others, the currency is simply living an artistic life.

An artistic life is an autonomous life: we take possession of our own sovereign territory, and monopolize it with our imaginations, inspirations, growth, digressions, etc. We're trapped in our own natures, our own bodies, our own rhythms and weaknesses." It's a fool's paradise, I know. But, it's ours nonetheless.

More to the point: they are not yours.

Poised, on the Cusp

I had made a dangerous--but honest--miscalculation: 

I was a semester into my wandering through an MFA program, when I 

decided to do a very shallow thing: start submitting my poetry to 

literary magazines. . .

I know, I know.

My explanation: I had about three (two undergraduate level, one 

graduate) workshops worth of poetry that I'd written. And, at the 

time, I'd felt comfortable with what I had. 

*Disclaimer: I pride myself on having a self-confidence and 

self-awareness that is healthy and fair. Does it wobble from time 

to time? Sure it does.

I'd sent every piece I'd written to every major literary magazine 

imaginable, and in return, received back every type of rejection 

imaginable. Suffice it to say, I found the rejections SHOCKING. 

Staggered and humiliated, I approached a friend at the university 

whose wisdom I valued very much. They're response proved to be even 

more unsettling to me: "Mike, forget about it. . .for now, anyway. 

Forget about submitting. Forget about publications. It isn't the 

right time for it. Just concentrate on craft."

And I listened to them. Big mistake, and here's why: Outside of the 

University's own literary magazine, I submitted nothing for close to 

a year and a half. This is bad. 

Here are two of what I termed acknowledgement letters(I absolutely 

refuse to label this species as rejection) I've received recently 

within the last three months) from two major publications in response 

to a short story I'd submitted(yes, I do indeed write those too):

"Unfortunately this particular piece was not a right fit for _________, 

but we were very impressed by your writing. We hope that you will feel 

encouraged by this short note and send us something else."

"We gave close consideration to your well-written piece because of your 

narrative style, but. . ." (I'm sure you can fill in what comes after)

What's important to point out about these two is that they're positive 

rejections that reveal a couple of things: 1) My story--while, at least 

in their minds, isn't quite ready yet--is close 2)  I've got something 

good going with my narrative/writing-style/voice (which is HUGE) 3) 

There exists potential, and therefore, possibility (most important).

I've also received a few of these in reference to some of my poetry. The 

problem is,I've only recently received these types of acknowledgement 

letters. If I'd known better. I could have been receiving these types 

much earlier in my creative timeline. Who knows, I could've had more 

published pieces because of it. It's very important for young writers to 

understand that THE GAME needs to be learned through practice. Like my 

hero Omar Little says: "The game’s out there, and it’s play or get played. 

That simple." 

It's only now that I've come to recognize everything that I've done wrong 

thus far. From the big things: actually having something worthy of 

consideration, and how to correctly write a cover letter, to the little: 

actually researching which magazines/journals (print or electronic) may 

be receptive to the type of writing I do. The game has its own source code 

that every writer needs to coach themselves on through practice and failure. 

Now, I'm left scrambling. It's my fault, of course. I should've followed

my gut instinct--literally. I should've paid more attention to the grumbling 

that was bellowing out of my very grouchy, creative stomach. Now, I find 

myself having to play the role of stick-up boy:

"And what is your occupation?

Occupation?

What exactly do you do for a living, Mr. Little?

I rip and run." 

At this point in my creative timeline, I have over 80+ pending submissions. 

I anticipate answers very soon. 

The way I see it, how can one expect to run with the wolves at night when 

they spend all their time sparring with puppies? 

I mean, a man got to have a code.