What I Wish Someone Had Told Me in April 2003

(which is when I started submitting short fiction to magazines, Five Years Ago)
I wish I could have understood patience.
The true meaning of patience, I mean. I don't mean the kind of patience it takes to wait for your rejection or (hopefully) your acceptance; I'm talking about the five-year-plan kind of patience. And not the passive sort of patience, the persistent kind.
You can do everything you're supposed to be doing, and you can be doing it well, and you can be successful, and more than five years later, someone will still call you a "new writer." Ten years, even fifteen years later, you will still be a "new writer."
When you are a truly new writer, just collecting your first fistful of rejections, you will not look upon people with multiple novel contracts and numerous short story publications "new." I sure didn't. I sure don't, still. Being called a new writer kind of freaks me out. And yet, here I am, on someone's list of favorite new writers. I suspect I have another five years to go before making it onto a more official list of new writers. And ten before people stop putting me on such lists.
Not that I'm complaining.
A couple writer friends of mine have struck milestones this year. One published her first novel. The other got an agent. And I've known them for a significant portion of my writing career (i.e., the last five years). And I came to the game after they started. And it seems like we'd all been struggling at the same level for a long time. And now, no matter what happens, they're new writers, starting this year in the one case, and not-even-yet in the other.
Name recognition takes a long time. I wouldn't say I have it yet. And I don't foresee it coming unless I sell some novels or get nominated for some awards. I would also argue that the latter doesn't happen without name recognition...
Anyway. Patience. As far as I can tell, there's nothing you can do to force a career. And the number one thing you can do, the only real thing you have any control over, is your output. You can write more. You can try to write better. You can submit your stories. You can't control the selling, but you can make sure that rejection is the reason for not selling, and not non-submission. You can spend all the time you want on publicity and making a name for yourself on the internet or in the fan culture by doing a blog or a podcast or showing up to conventions, but unless you have product to sell, and good product at that, it all comes to nothing.
I hear about, but do not actually know any, writers that didn't put in ten years of patient, persistent doggedness to get anywhere. If your goal is to be a writer, then write. If your goal is to be a rich and famous writer, you still have to write. And for the latter, unless you are luckier than god, you will almost assuredly need patience.