What sloths can teach writers about taking risks

An unlikely role model? (Photo by William Phipps on Unsplash)

At first glance, sloths are possibly the least inspirational animal ever. Sure, they’re kind of cute, in a weird way. But they’re lazy, move at a glacial pace, and spend most of their time sleeping or eating.

A sloth’s survival depends on moving so slowly that it doesn’t attract the attention of predators. A rolling stone gathers no moss, but a static sloth is covered in algae.

Life in the slow lane works for them, I guess. But most writers aren’t concerned about harpy eagles snatching us from our tree. We’re constantly being told to write more; do more; stay on the grind; keep moving. The sloth’s leisurely lifestyle is the antithesis to success.

Or is it?

Risky business

Have you ever thought about how sloths poop?

No? Well, I don’t blame you. But inspiration can be found in the unlikeliest of places, and the bottom of a sloth’s pooping tree fits that description.

Yes, they have pooping trees.

Despite living most of their life in the canopy, some species of sloths climb down to the forest floor to do a number two. With such a slow metabolism, they can go weeks between descents, but they make up for lost time by pushing out a third of their bodyweight with every bowel movement.

They do the deed standing, performing a “poo dance” to dig a small hole. The sloth’s top speed on the ground of 1.8–2.4 m per minute means the process takes some time. They’ll even politely cover it with leaves, afterwards.

Good news for nearby predators; bad news for the sloth. It’s basically a sitting duck (squatting sloth?), and extremely vulnerable out in the open. It’s no exaggeration to call it ‘doo-doo or die’. One estimate suggests up to half of sloth deaths occur during these bathroom visits.

How does this risk-taking behaviour link to writers? Hear me out.

Writers are often introverted

This is a bit of a cliche, but it’s not without truth. The written word is a safe haven for those who’d rather not endure office politics, soulless corporations, rigid routines, or — worst of all — small talk. Throw in a smattering of social anxiety, and you’ve got the perfect recipe for a challenging career path.*

*It’s not exclusive to writers, of course, but it’s rare that you hear about a plumber who was too scared to visit clients and fix their pipes.

Having a successful writing career often requires more aggressive self-promotion, networking, and/or applying for gigs than we’re comfortable with. Much as we’d like them to, highly lucrative opportunities don’t just fall into our laps, unless we get extremely lucky.

But hoping for a lucky break is a terrible ‘strategy’ (or lack thereof) for success.

Speaking from personal experience, I’ve often baulked at putting myself out there, and it’s definitely hampered my career so far. I have a good record in interviews, but I haven’t had many, because I simply haven’t applied for enough jobs. The ones that I did apply for, I was generally overqualified, because I played it safe. Even on Medium, I gave up after writing a handful of stories last year. I saw the importance of publications, figured that it involved too much human interaction and reliance on others, and went back to writing on Quora.

Well, that’s not entirely true. I submitted to one large publication, got rejected, and that was that.

Going back to Quora was easy. It was safe. I’m not saying 40,000 followers and over 40 million views isn’t something to be proud of, but that warm and fuzzy feeling from views and upvotes doesn’t pay the bills or progress my career.

It’s about fear

It’s easy, perhaps even comforting to never take a risk. You can say to yourself that you would have been a success if only you’d put more effort in.

But, ultimately, a lot of it comes down to fear.

Fear of rejection. Fear of people not liking what you write. Fear of people finding out that you’re actually 20 weasels in a trench coat. (Some fears are more rational than others.)

Well, once again, sloths can teach us a thing or two. Do you think you know fear? When’s the last time you risked your life for a bowel movement?

If the world’s slowest mammal can look a jaguar in the face and say: “Not today,” then what’s our excuse for not applying to that gig, or submitting to an extra publication or two? Perhaps not the best comparison, since the sloth often winds up getting eaten. But it’s the thought that counts.

The point is, you’re not a sloth, and the stakes couldn’t be lower. The worst that can happen is someone says no.

My takeaways

That’s why I take inspiration from the sloth’s pooping habits.

I’m not going to pretend that I’ve become the world’s most extroverted person, or that I suddenly cold pitch to 100 prospective clients a day, but I think I’ve been making more progress recently. I’ve written two books in the last year, and I’m giving Medium a more serious shot this time.

I’m going to write more frequently, and submit to more publications. I’ve already been accepted in three or four different ones, and only had a couple of rejections. I’m not going to take it personally, either. You can’t please everyone.

Like many writers, I’m probably guilty of being too attached to my work. We shouldn’t be afraid to accept constructive criticism, or look at things from a detached perspective and see why something may have been rejected, rather than just thinking: “the editor has a personal vendetta against me and is actively sabotaging my life.”

It can be disheartening when you spend a couple of hours on a story and it gets eight views, but by being persistent, you’re giving yourself the best chance.

If I write every day for two months, and my stories still aren’t getting much traction, I might have a rethink. But I’m confident in my writing ability. Compared to my views, my read percentage and number of fans per story are solid. The only thing missing is consistency.

If I don’t succeed, at least I actually tried. As a wise person once said: “You miss 100% of the sloth poops you don’t take.”

Take a risk, like the sloth

Don’t keep those ideas bottled up, like a month’s worth of leaves in a sloth’s digestive system.

Squeeze them out of the sphincter of your mind, and let them out into the world. Don’t let the ocelot of negativity paralyse you with indecision.

See? I’m taking risks already, by making terrible metaphors.

It’s a good start.

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