That sweet smell


A FRIEND was astonished recently when I told him that I had copied a passage from a novel into my notebook several years ago.

He couldn’t understand what would make a person do something so seemingly pointless! But the words I had read (and rewritten, and later reread) were so fascinating that I didn’t know any other way to make them a part of my reality.

A small part of the passage, coming out of a Penny Vincenzi novel read this way:
“. . . suddenly, none of that mattered. She had done it, she had made it all on her own, she was that most elusive, sought after, fought over thing — a success. Beyond anything she could have imagined. She just could not, she would not, give that up.”


In summary, it was the point at which a woman had, after some internal struggle, achieved a level of success that gave her great satisfaction as well as monetary reward.

It spoke of the addictive feeling that both money and power gave her and of the pleasure that came out of defiance and resilience.

Of course the idea of “making it on her own” is in many ways a myth.

No one really makes it without other people supporting, making opportunities available, understanding and endorsing them.

Everybody needs somebody, whether they recognise it or not.

And then of course there is that age old question of what success itself is. For others, it is the gap between where they started and where they have come to that defines the fact that they are now successful.

Some people measure their success by the number of people whose lives they have touched along the way.