[Originally sent as a letter to subscribers one week before the first issue released.]
“What made you think you could do that?” the lawyer said.
He was drunk and putting too much breath behind his words. The whole question hit me as one warm, stinky yawn.
“Oh, well, I don’t know. I mean, I’ve made magazines before. This is just the first one I’m doing on my own.”
“Ye-ahh, but what made you think you could do it?” the lawyer belched. He was very drunk. It’s unfair to write about drunk people, but I can’t remember his name anyway. He was in his late 50s and had a white pullover sweater tied loosely around his neck. His wife, in company there at Charlie Brown’s, was at least 10 years younger than him. She was also a lawyer and also very drunk.
“Where did you go to school?” he asked.
“New Mexico State,” I said.
“New Mexico? Really?”
“Yes.”
“Well…I hope this goes okay for you.”
“I think it will,” I said.
I’ve endured this line of questioning before. I have to be careful, because I’m very much a little man with a chip on his shoulder. And this is exactly the kind of thing that gets my hackles up. It’s always the same people who grill you like this too. Extremely affluent, highly educated people who, despite all their advantages, have actually done very little with their lives. No matter how old you are, they still manage to strike a parental tone.
The friend who invited me out, also a lawyer but one of the good ones, looks at me from across the table, embarrassed. It’s okay. It came from a bad place, but it’s not a bad question. Who do you think you are?
People really do need to have their arrogance checked, it’s true. But people also need to have arrogance. Creative people need to be arrogant enough to create. And uncreative people need to be arrogant enough to judge the results. Round and round we go.
Months later, and the magazine is nearly finished. I’m looking at the full proof now–terrified because I just found a misspelled name and a broken QR code in the last half hour. But I’d be lying if I said I wasn’t proud of myself. In just a few days, the issue will start circulating 10,000 copies citywide. What was once some chickenscratch on a yellow legal pad is now writ large. The real thing. Pure. No dirty deals–not a single shred of sponsored content. What I really want to say is, I did it! A bootstrap job. The little engine that could. Yes. I did it!
And, here on the verge of a minor success, I really do need to have my arrogance checked. Hopefully, I’m old enough now to know the traps–and to remember the mantras that stop the arrogance necessary for creation from transforming into something monstrous and empty. Nobody cares, and you’re going to die someday is always a good standby.
It would also help to remember that I couldn’t have done this at all without the help of my friends and all the talented creative people who came onboard at this early stage, when there’s not a red cent to be made–people like Shane, Maggie, Auggie, Megan, Amy, Adam, Rob, and Zoë. It would help to remember that, but then again, it would also feel so good not to.
I have to be careful. In the grand scheme, this is a paltry endeavor, but people have built towers of ego out of much less. I feel like I could allow myself to feel prouder of this accomplishment if I were building a house–something extraneous, something that wasn’t so much me. Unfortunately, there is more vanity in this business. Because, even if I’m not writing everything, what I publish is still a reflection of my taste. And, seriously, who do I think I am?
I’m being melodramatic, jumping the gun, I know. Success has yet to arrive, and, even if it comes, there are bound to be plenty of failures in tow. But I have to prepare myself. In the world of publishing, media, art, etc., any level of success should be viewed as a threat to the soul. Because in that world, success is a validation of the arrogance required to create, and arrogance, even when useful, is never benign. The world’s humblest man would never write a book or start a podcast. And his soul is all the safer for it. But I’m not the world’s humblest man. I have to be careful.
Here, I can be grateful for the limits to success built into this enterprise. After all, it’s a tiny local magazine. Because of its name, it can only grow to be a big local magazine. And not in New York. Not in L.A. Not in Tokyo. In good ol’ cowtown Denver. I think, with a little luck and a lot of caution, I could manage a success in Denver. We’ll see.
And there’s something else I need to be grateful for, of course. Yes, that’s a good humbling thought. What I really want to say is, Thank You. Truly, Thank You.
by Paul M. French
Paul M. French is the founder and editor of Denverse Magazine.
