Daily victories

The quiet, everyday ups and downs of a purposefully long journey

When I moved to the Philadelphia area in my early twenties, the local public radio station often played music by the singer-songwriter Dar Williams, whose whimsical, observant songs spoke to me at that time of my life. One of her lyrics especially stood out:

I am older now, I know the rise and gradual fall of a daily victory

The sentiment appealed to me. I liked the idea of approaching each day as a set of quiet, small challenges, rather than trying to take on the entire war.

Still, I was only in my twenties then. As Williams’ lyric suggested, I didn’t yet know how to laser-focus on the little things right in front of me I could control—how to cruise up and down the soft hills of each day—rather than trying to charge up every steep mountain with fervor.

Now, in my fifties, I’m returning to this lovely idea of tiny, gentle daily wins.

I’m especially keeping this idea top of mind as I re-enter the literary agent querying process. It’s been a couples of years since I last dove into the querying trenches and emerged battered and disheartened. This time around I’ve promised myself I’m just testing the waters. I’m keeping my expectations low and protecting my hopes. Still, it’s always a punch in the gut to get the first rejection. Then the second. Then the third.

Embracing the bumps

So when the bad news arrives, I take myself for a walk and indulge in some self-talk.

I remind myself of the tiny, bright victories: an author I admire generously agreed to read my novel and provide a cover blurb. A co-worker told me they feel like they can be themselves because I provide them with a safe space. These are the wins I forget to give myself credit for; instead, I instantly check them off in my mind and move on to the next problem or challenge, without stopping to remind myself that these are the moments that matter the most.

Acknowledging these little wins, and congratulating myself for a change, helps me steel myself for when a project hits a bump, a crit partner doesn’t like something in my writing, or an agent takes a pass.

Why do I immediately catastrophize these small losses while completely disavowing the small wins? Why does every dip and pothole in the journey feel more like I’m falling into a pit of failure, stirring up exhaust fumes of shame and flagellation?

Instead, can I accept that the road ahead is long, that every down will bring an up, and that regardless of the rises and falls, the road will still take me where I’m going?

Refocusing on what matters

I originally set out on this author journey with humility and low expectations. Write a page, then write another. Finish a draft and expect nothing else.

Somewhere along the way, I began to have more hopes, then optimism. This led to expectations. Soon I began to demand things: continuous success, validation, shortcuts that made it all feel easy.

Now, I’m trying to reset how I think about what I’m doing.

What are the things I truly care about? Why am I investing so much time, energy, heart, and sweat equity into this pursuit?

Can I slow down and face where am I today—only a few miles in to a long, winding journey—and recognize that, despite the slowdowns and speedbumps and thanks to the occasional clear, straight stretches, I’m making progress every day?

Can I snap back into the moment to marvel at the scenery, discover the unexpected, and make memories along the way?

Can I gracefully embrace the non-wins, conceding that not every road is meant to be taken?

Could I even feel grateful for them, knowing they’ll help me stay humble and focused on my true goals?

Most importantly, can I celebrate each minor, miraculous victory—then sleep peacefully and wake up to do it all again tomorrow, with the same earnest resolve?

Writers: I’d love to hear about the rise and gradual fall of your daily victories. Share in the comments!