The Happiness Project: Or, Why I Spent a Year Trying to Sing in the Morning, Clean My Closets, Fight Right, Read Aristotle, and Generally Have More Fun

realization gave me such an ecstatic shock of recognition that tears welled up in my eyes. I spent the next several days testing my theory, and the more I read, the more excited I became. The requirements of a classical tragedy are very stringent, yet I was able to prove that Churchill’s life met every one of them. Ah, that was the fun part.
    But the arrival fallacy doesn’t mean that pursuing goals isn’t a route to happiness. To the contrary. The goal is necessary, just as is the process toward the goal. Friedrich Nietzsche explained it well: “The end of a melody is not its goal; but nonetheless, if the melody had not reached its end it would not have reached its goal either. A parable.”
    To enjoy now, there was something else I was going to have to master: my dread of criticism. Too much concern about whether I was getting praise or blame, too much anticipatory anxiety about what my detractors would say—those kinds of fears spoiled my pleasure in my work and, what’s more, probably weakened my work.
    I’d had a chance to tackle this very issue, during my preparation stage for the happiness project, when The Washington Post published a critical review of my biography Forty Ways to Look at JFK . At that point, I’d learned a lot of happiness theories and I’d identified my Twelve Commandments, but I hadn’t put much into practice.
    The review made me feel depressed, defensive, and angry; I wished that I felt secure, open to criticism, with benevolent feelings toward the reviewer. I decided to apply my Third Commandment, to “Act the way I want to feel.” Would it really work in this extreme case? I made myself do something I did not want to do. I sent a friendly e-mail to the reviewer, in order to show myself that I was confident enough to take criticism graciously and able to respond without attack or self-justification. It took me a very, very long time to compose that e-mail. But guess what—it worked. The minute I sent it, I felt better.
    Hello David Greenberg—
    As you can imagine, I read with interest your review of my book on Wednesday.
    While writing, I have the disheartening habit of composing negative reviews—imagining how I’d criticize the very work I’m doing. Your review hit three of my dark themes—gimmick, arbitrary, obvious. You criticized me most where I criticized myself. In brighter moments, I was satisfied that I captured some of the insight I felt I gained into Kennedy, and I’m sorry I wasn’t able to convey that to you.
    If I write another “forty ways” biography, I’m sure I’ll benefit from your comments. For example, I debated about whether to reiterate the material from my Churchill book about why the number “forty,” the tradition of multiple ways of seeing (Wallace Stevens, Monet, Rashomon —alas, I didn’t read Julian Barnes’s brilliant Flaubert’s Parrot until after I’d written my Churchill book), etc.—but it struck me as somehow pompous to go over all that again. Now I see that of course it’s frustrating to the reader not to see that argument set forth afresh.
    Good luck with your work, and best wishes, Gretchen Rubin
    The minute I pushed “send,” I felt terrific. No matter what David Greenberg did, I’d changed myself. I felt magnanimous, open to criticism, sending good wishes to someone who had hurt me. I didn’t even care if I got a reply. But I did. I got a very nice response.
    Dear Gretchen (if I may),
    Thanks for your note. I admire and applaud you for taking the review in stride and for making the overture to me. I know that when I received mixed or critical reviews of my book, I certainly didn’t react with such aplomb. But on such occasions, more experienced authors reminded me that any review is just one person’s opinion, and in the end the reviews vanish with the next day’s papers while the books endure (which is why we write books, in part). In any event, whether or not you felt my comments were apt, I hope you considered the tone and treatment to be respectful and fair.
    Again, it was good of you to write, and I return the good wishes to you in your work and pursuits.
    Sincerely,
David Greenberg
    Having an effective strategy to deal with criticism of my work made it easier to enjoy the process of working. Also, this exchange had an added benefit, one that I, as the one being reviewed, didn’t consider at first. We often dislike those whom we’ve hurt, and I bet David Greenberg wasn’t very pleased to see my name