Well, now I’m really discouraged: A guide to resenting peer success.

In the wake of today’s big bloggeriffic (shudder) news, I’d like to announce that Mister Faded Glory is totally for sale. Yes, it’s true!

I apologize, because this has been unclear for some time. However, I’m certain my failure to announce my intent is definitely what’s held this blog back. For seven years. (Ahem.)

Thus, the formal announcement. Onward and upward, bigger and better –  everything must go! MisterFadedGlory.com is on the market; both as a property and as a writer.

You just want the domain? I can accommodate you, Mother Love Bone fans. It’s true, Chloe don’t know better.

You just want the real estate and my audience of renowned movers and shakers? I can deliver. At least 20 sharp minds are all yours.

You just want the wordy ramblings of an extremely talented writer? Well, let’s talk.

I’m only sort of kidding. The New York Times’ announcement that peer sports/media blog The Big Lead is going mainstream (Uh, have you seen his movie taste? Nothing could be more mainstream), having sold its property to an advertising/web aggregation venture for at least $1 million.

I don’t know Jason McIntyre, but I’ve followed The Big Lead for years. A worthwhile time-waster, McIntyre managed to exploit a nouveau niche within sports media – a young following voracious for sports opinion and the behind-the-scenes of sports media. (Sort of like Mr. Faded Glory. Except successful.)

And his blog wasn’t too dense, snarky, or profound. Rather, with ten workmanlike posts a day, TBL appeals to both the angry young sports fan as well as the rational office-time-waster. It’s fairly brilliant, when you think about it. You get the feeling ESPN endorses TBL, but detests Deadspin.

Anyway, whether McIntyre cares or not, I consider him a peer, as I did Bill Simmons. As all of us struggling writers do – when someone finally leaps over the wall, and makes it big, it’s incumbent upon us to wish him well.

Which brings us to a larger point? What do we do with friends’ – or peers’ – success? Why is it alternately uplifting and torturous?

Envy first begins during formative years, when Paul, the kid from down the block, trots to school with a new lunchbox each year (Peanuts, He-Man, Ghostbusters), and you’re stuck with the Garfield lunchbox, throughout eternity.

Later on down the road, your self-loathing is evident when your neighbor returns home with a shiny new car. Or you, the smartest kid in high school, are routinely beaten at Jeopardy! by your college roommate. Or you miss out on a prestigious fellowship to the geek up in some other dormroom. Or suddenly, you’re 26 and your friends and their wives effortlessly purchase their first, second and third homes, while you work nights and wonder how far the 37 bucks in your checking account will stretch. And endlessly into the future, whenever your contemporaries – and even friends – earn more recognition, money, salary and accolades.

You may be happy for them. But it stings. Like Cubs fans when Red Sox Nation won its world title in 2004: It’s like sharing a prison cell with someone. You’re happy for them when they go free, but deep down, you’re still pissed off it wasn’t you. Resentment is natural, no matter how close the peer or how detached the discipline. And that resentment takes shape in many stages.

• Contempt. My main point of contention with The Big Lead is his embrace of the banal- he’s the guy who showed up to guffaw and rehash The Office — four years after everyone stopped watching it. For every thought-provoking journalist interview, he’s thrilled to rubber-stamp mindless entertainment:

“Figured we’d use this opportunity to talk about movies, since the always-exciting summer movie season is upon us. Haven’t seen Iron Man 2 yet. Here’s one list – from it, we’d say A-Team, Inception, Clash of the Titans, and Robin Hood are must-see. If you’re a Michael Cera fan (we are) then Scott Pilgrim vs the World looks decent. And if you like M. Night, there’s the Last Airbender.”

Nothing makes me want to murder puppies quite like that paragraph. So, if The Big Lead got bought, I’d never want to sell to any big company anyway.

• Self-Pity. I quit law school many years ago, just dropped out. (I never should have gone. Just do me one favor: Whenever you encounter a smart kid who’s going to law school “just because there is nothing better to do” or “I want to live in Iowa City,” please talk them out of it.) ANYWAY, I habitually scold myself whenever I run into a colleague or contemporary or classmate who entered a business realm or discipline right after graduation. I bounced around too long, and I’m still struggling to get ahead. (Or get head. Wait, what?) You see, I’ll just never get my break.

• Jealousy. For crying out loud, why him and not me? Why anyone and not me? Why does no one read this blog, and why do they never comment?

Jealousy is so patently unproductive, yet so patently human. We all do it, but if you consistently measure yourself up to people based on age or experience or even talent, well, you’ll always find someone bigger, faster, better, and more. Or even all of the above.

• Realism. At some point we’ve all got to be comfortable with our own lives. Maybe it happens when you’re 30, maybe when you’re 15, maybe when you’re 60. At some point, you deal with the reality of a sore back. You accept your wasted potential. Maybe it’s not even wasted after all. At any rate, you learn to be OK with your choices – maybe you don’t have it in you to pursue a dream any further.

But maybe that’s all right. Sure, you or I may be jealous of The Big Lead’s success, but don’t kid yourself. He earned it. And we didn’t. That’s the separation.

• Inspiration. The separation is where I’m at today. And it’s not a bad place.

A famous author once counseled me: “Assuming a baseline of talent, getting over the wall is largely a question of effort.” True story. And truer words never spoken.

And he’s right. The only variable you can control, the only variable you should obsess over, is your own effort. A notion I scoffed at as a youth, a notion I now realize is fully in tandem with luck and circumstance, and nowhere near in tandem with bursting (or wasted) potential. The Big Lead realized his dream, by writing day after day, being good at it, and never giving up..

Effort wasn’t enough, and it never is. I can’t promise this blog will ever be anything but my own private creative outlet. I certainly can’t promise These Monks will ever be published, or that Mister Faded Glory will be snatched up by The New Yorker (douche alert!).

But I can promise that I’ll keep writing, keep contacting, and practice all of the above here, all the time. (Plus pictures of cats!) Behind the scenes, I’ll be working toward my future. Maybe that future is me as an author. Maybe it includes me as whatever I do now. Maybe it’s me as a house husband. (Crosses fingers!)

But the success of a peer – whether it’s The Big Lead, or your sneering office rival – shouldn’t, ultimately, inflame. It should inspire. Today, I’m armed with a little more inspiration than yesterday. If I keep at it, the tomorrows will be better than that.