Can Optimism Be Unhealthy?

I think my eldest daughter inherited some of my unhealthy optimism.

You see, there's a coloring contest at the library.

She did a great job of coloring the bird (with a feather that spells READ on its head) and adding her own artistic details of a tree and a bench in the background, as if the read-bird is strolling through a park. Very cute.

But here's where it got scary.

"I'm going to win the contest," she said. "And the winner of the contest is going to get a slip-and-slide, so we'll have a slip-and-slide ... And Anna's is really good, too, so she'll win the younger division and I'll win the older division and we'll--"

"Hold on," I said. "Your picture is great, honey, but you have no idea who the judges will choose. You shouldn't get your hopes up so high."

My eldest shrugged and walked away, which translated: I still think I'm going to win this coloring contest. That slip-and-slide is mine.

I'm glad my elder daughter is confident. I cringe, however, at her over-confidence. I want her to embrace some reality. Find a balance.

And speaking of balance, I need to find it in my writing life, too!

This week I found out I did not win a writing grant I applied for. I didn't even get honorable mention. I also found out I didn't win a writing contest I entered. I didn't even place in the top 25. I feel a little like my daughter holding up her bird picture going, "Hey, what's wrong with mine?" 

At the moment my optimism is wearing thin.

Of course I'll keep writing and submitting, because if I start hiding my work, then I've given up.

Even though I'm disappointed, I haven't thought of quitting. Earlier this week I sent off a submission to a magazine and today I entered another writing contest. Both may well turn into more disappointment, but eventually, EVENTUALLY I should be good enough to be published, or at least noted. (right?)

So maybe my daughter's unhealthy optimism isn't such a bad trait. She'll be disappointed if she doesn't end up with that slip-and-slide, but it won't ruin her. It might just make her try harder when the next coloring contest comes around. And that will be a good thing.

We don't give due appreciation to the things in life that come too easily.

What do you think: can over-confidence be a good trait in a writer? Is that what makes us keep trying, keeps us pushing for our elusive goals? Are over-confidence and optimism even the same thing-- two sides of the same coin? How do we make sure our optimism is the healthy kind?

Totally unrelated: Here's the raspberry trifle I made for our family reunion last week. It was gooey, gooey good. Despite loss and rejection, there's always TRIFLE, so chin up all you discouraged writers out there!

Epiphany Moment: Strumming on a Cloud?

Don't get me wrong, I have never thought heaven would be boring.

But since I started writing novels more seriously I've had this series of thoughts:

Heaven will be perfect. No more pain. No more angst. No more suffering.

And what's the first lesson you learn as a writer?

Without pain, without angst, without suffering, there's no plot. It's a boring story.

Right?

So, where does that leave our eternity in heaven? I don't think we'll be sitting on a cloud strumming a harp for fifteen billion plus years, but even with work to do and praises to sing and perfection to revel in, will heaven be interesting without the drama?

I'm doing a Beth Moore Bible study on the book of Revelation over the next eleven weeks. This last week we read Revelation 1, the part where Jesus appears in all his glory to John. That's when I had an epiphany moment.

On earth we feel like we *need* drama to be entertained. We need a good dose of angst to keep our minds busy. (As writers, we know this.)

But in heaven, we'll replace drama with glory. Not our own glory, but God's glory.

Read John's account of  what Jesus looked like to him (some of it's symbolic, so don't freak out when you read that Jesus has a sword protruding from his mouth) and prepare to be unbored:

"...and among the lampstands was someone 'like a son of man,' dressed in a robe reaching down to his feet and with a golden sash around his chest. His head and hair were white like wool, as white as snow, and his eyes were like blazing fire. His feet were like bronze glowing in a furnace, and his voice was like the sound of rushing waters. In his right hand he held seven stars, and out of his mouth came a sharp, double-edged sword. His face was like the sun shining in all its brilliance. When I saw him I fell at his feet as though dead. Then he placed his right hand on me and said: 'Do not be afraid. I am the First and the Last. I am the Living One; I was dead, and behold I am alive for ever and ever! And I hold the keys of death and Hades.'" (Rev 1: 13-18, NIV)

Whew, that gives me goosebumps.

No, I don't think we'll need drama once we're in the presence of the living God.

How about you? If you believe in heaven, have you ever wondered if heaven would be a little boring? (I don't mind you disagreeing with me!)