The Roller Coaster or the Ferris Wheel

By Gail Richards - Sep 04 , 2008

When a group of friends all agree that it would be fun to head to the amusement park together, have you noticed that the together element actually only applies to the car pooling? Once inside the gates, everyone has their own approach to how they choose to experience the park. The operative word here, folks, is CHOOSE, so take note of that.We could extend the metaphor to every ride from the bumper cars and the swirling tea cups to the Spinning Wheel of Death, but today we’ll limit our discussion to a gross generalization: those who like to ride—before or after their funnel cake—tend to fall into one of two camps—those who live to ride the roller coaster and those who choose the ferris wheel.

Of course, some people are just in it for the food and, let’s face it, there’s nothing quite like a fresh hot funnel cake.

While every roller coaster is different, the elements that make each a roller coaster are essentially the same: high highs, low lows, and moving between the two extremes with little or no warning, with surprises around every bend.

Riders of the roller coaster are lurched and jerked in new directions without notice, with emotions running the gamut from euphoria to deflation in response to the latest conversation, email, or event. On the off chance that anyone reading this has ever been in love: life on the roller coaster should sound familiar.

The roller coaster can be exhausting and counterproductive. Nothing could be less predictable and reliant on external stimuli that are out of one’s control. Even if the rider is paying lip service to a long-term plan or vision, it remains long -term because the short term ups and downs prevent all if any intentional forward motion.

You are right—there really are thousands of opportunities and paths for you and your book. You can’t follow them all. You have no obligation to respond to all of them, either. This is where the ferris wheel comes in.

The ferris wheel is the antithesis of the roller coaster—a different experience all together. The ferris wheel is the familiar boy next door, it’s the long-lost friend you marry once you tire of chasing the untouchable maverick bad boy.

The ferris wheel travels at a manageable speed, cycling from bottom to top with no big surprises along the way. Sometimes there’s wind, or a delay as new riders are entering and exiting, but, for the most part, it’s a predictable, reasonable, and calm ride. No high highs or low lows that skyrocket and plummet.

This is not to say that the ferris wheel is boring or for whimps. Au contraire. The ferris wheel is for serious authors who are ready to get the job done. Life on the roller coaster is great for feeling inspired and energized and learning to be open to new ideas and opportunities. But the wise rider knows that without slowing down for some thoughtful consideration and planning, she will never make progress.

The problem with the roller coaster is, it’s intoxicating. We are all, to a greater or lesser extent, adrenaline junkies. Whether it’s the literal rush of speed and motion or the rush we get when someone tells us they love or hate our work, or when we hear about a new award or a new project we MUST jump on immediately— we all thrill to the input and respond internally and often times outwardly.

But response isn’t action. It’s just response and a diffusion of energy that might be better spent getting in line for the ferris wheel.

The beauty of the ferris wheel is that it teaches us planning, patience, and pacing. It teaches us that we can set an exciting goal but not need to reach it the very next day. It teaches us to look at—–and periodically revisit—–the big picture view from the top as a touch point for all of our steps toward the goal. It teaches us to sit back and simply enjoy the ride.

Which ride are you choosing to be on?