The first time I actually heard that explained, the difference between the glass being half full and half empty, that is, was in the Tick Tock bar in Canton, New York when I was attending St. Lawrence University. It was in the beginning of my sophomore year and I had just discovered that I was intellectually helpless when it came to the Philosophy course I had so eagerly signed up for a few weeks prior to this occasion; a fact now evidenced by the large red "D" scrawled across the top of my first assigned essay.
"The whole course content is just too vague," I complained to my friend, Bob, as we sat at the bar drinking some low grade, albeit cheap, draft beer, an activity which, I should point out, was pretty much our solution to every academic or personal disappointment in those days.
Bob simply shrugged and took another gulp of his beer.
"This, too, will pass," he said, which, I should also point out, was also pretty much his response to all above mentioned disappointments in my life.
"Okay for you to say," I replied, in a somewhat snarky tone, I must admit. "You have the same last name as the campus administration building, whereas I...I must actually pass all my courses to graduate."
Bob just sighed and reaching across the bar, he pulled my glass toward his and lined the two of them up, side by side. Then he proceeded to drink half of his beer, after which he leaned over the edge of the bar and poured half of mine in the sink on the other side. Then he placed the two glasses next to each other again.
"What do you see?" he asked, turning his bar stool to face me.
"I see two half empty glasses of beer, " I grumbled, "one of which used to be mine, and both of which I paid for. What's your point?"
"Ah," he replied, "that's where you're wrong. Yours is half empty because I poured half of it in the sink, but mine is half full because I drank the first half and completely enjoyed doing so, and now I have the same amount to drink again."
At this point, I did the only logical thing: I chugged the rest of the beer in both glasses (after which, as I recall, I felt infinitely better about everything, even my essay grade).
But despite my intellectual limitations when it came to studying Philosophy (I dropped the course, by the way, and signed up for a British Literature class instead), I did understand what Bob was trying to tell me; that no matter what the situation, one's response all depends on how one looks at it. Whereas I was seeing my college career as half empty at that point, ultimately my realization that I should take classes I was really interested in (instead of the ones everyone else said were so cool), was a realization, in fact, that led to many happy years as a high school English teacher. In other words, the half full glass filled all the way up all because of my changed perspective.
As an aspiring author, I subscribe to several "trade" publications as a way to discover new ideas and gather advice on how to effectively approach this pursuit. One of these is a newsletter written by a talented, and apparently quite successful mystery writer. I have to admit I mostly read this publication because she researches writing competitions and publication opportunities, and lists them at the end of each newsletter. But Hope Clark also writes a column every week or so, offering sound advice and practical thoughts, so sound and logical, in fact, that they even make me miss my grandmother a little less than usual.
A recent column was all about the exact subject I mentioned above: the whole half full/half empty syndrome, specifically when it comes to writing. Although I have communicated with this author several times, complimenting not only her novels (which I have read several of and enjoyed, even though I'm not much into mysteries), but also her words of wisdom, I am hoping I am not one of her readers who, as she points out often happens, complain about my lack of success as being someone else's fault.
The truth of the matter is, it's not only that I am a terrible marketer, as well as entirely too sensitive when it comes to criticism from (or worse yet when I feel completely ignored by) friends or family members, but quite honestly, I'm just not that good. I'm not saying this because of the pile of rejection letters I've accumulated, or the lack of sales/glowing reviews/ best-selling status of my novels, but also because as a writer, I do what all writers should do: I read voraciously. And let me just say this: there are some incredibly well-written, well-crafted, and compelling works of literature out there, books that are also significantly humbling to those of us attempting to produce the same.
But here is the half full part: I don't seem willing or able to give it up, my writing that is. There is something in me that says I can do it, and when I go back and read what I have written in the past, it seems like the glass is filling rather than emptying out, and that quite possibly this means that the fuller the glass gets, the more likely someone else might notice it. We'll see.
I haven't seen or heard from my friend Bob in many years...like many of the important people in my life, I carelessly lost track of him. But one thing I know for sure is that if I ever run into him again, I think I'll buy him a beer, filled to the very top of the glass.
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