Help! I'd rather dance . . .

When Katrina first emailed us her marathon analogy, it totally bummed me out. Totally and completely. Why? I don't know. It's a great analogy. But it makes writing sound like such drudgery. To me. It doesn't sound like anything I would ever do.

For me, writing really isn't quite that awful. I vent a lot, sure, but that's because I'm a Drama Queen and I get really frustrated by my lack of ability, which I always want to be better. So I rage, rage, rage against my own mediocrity. I consider it part of my process now. It gets the adrenalin going. But writing? Writing itself is amazing-- for me, it's never boring scenery and exhaust fumes and pounding the hell out of my bones over and over on relentless pavement until I'm hunched over and heaving.

Or is it?

Clearly, I'll never run a marathon, but I do think Katrina makes a lot of excellent points. For my own motivation, to keep me going, however, I need a different analogy.

What I wrote back via email, was something like---

Very nice analogy, K. Wow.

I'm going to throw a wrench in the works because I firmly believe we're not all designed to be marathoners.

Let's say, you start training for the marathon and you hurt your leg. You still want to train but you can't run so you start biking. you're as good at the biking a the running and you like it. When you start running again, you keep biking -- and, perhaps, you throw in swimming. And you complete a triathlon. Do you consider that a failure? Not me!

Or . .. let's say you want to learn to dance. So, much so that you take dancing lessons and sign up for a dance contest. You really like swing but hell, you want to do a rumba too. So you learn both, two dance routines, and you perform both. Well. You're not an expert at either dance, but you've grown as a dancer. That also works for me.

With yoga, if you just can't pull off the head stand today, because you've hurt your neck, then do a different yoga routine, using other muscles, but still do your daily practice.

The point is that you can push through in many ways.

For me, with limited time, I always want to be pushing forward. I want to write daily so I continue to grow, so I'm continuously working toward becoming this writer I see myself as in the future. Working on two things-- or three-- works for me. I always have something to work on. If I'm stuck on one, I can still write that day, and let the other "brew" without feeling like I'm "wasting writing time."

Obviously, I was justifying working on more than one story at a time in the above email. Why? Because I've realized I need to. Right now, I'm in the idea stage for novel number three; I'm writing the first draft of novel number two; and I'm rewriting novel number one which, btw, needs extensive, extensive rewrites. I just cut 35K. Snip. Snip. There's another 35K that needs extensive surgery. Snip. Snip. If you're doing the math with me, that means there's only 35K that needs the normal minor touch-ups-- trimming -ly words, checking typos and ensuring consistency. That stuff. Rewriting is a bitch. For me, it's much worse than writing the first draft. Of course, maybe if I had put more work and drudgery into the first draft, the rewriting wouldn't be sooooo daunting. Like learning how to do the tango on a high wire, or something. Hmmm. Anyway . . .

Since writing my initial email, I've really latched onto the writing is like dancing and writing is like yoga ideas. For me, writing isn't a race, not even writing the first draft. It's like a dance because it's a way of expressing yourself, of translating the rhythm you feel and hear into something that moves or entertains others. It's challenging. It can be frustrating. It's hard work. You have to pour everything into it to make it as good as it can be. But it's also varied, exhilarating, artistic, and fun. Writing is like yoga for quite a few of the same reasons, and because it's a way of getting in touch with yourself, stretching yourself, strengthening yourself. It's a meditation.

Of course, none of that changes the fact that you may want to quit. That you have to dig deep. That you will need to find and embrace your true grit. That writing isn't for wimps.

Cheers and happy writing (whether you are triathlete, runner, dancer or yogini)
Alyson