Marathoning

If it doesn’t challenge you, it won’t change you.” — Fred DeVito

I’d been running for five and a half hours through the rural countryside surrounding Xenia, Ohio. My tired legs were intermittently cramping and the bottoms of my feet ached. I’d run out of catchy songs to sing to myself and all the mantras I’d been chanting sounded stale. The trees lining the rails to trails which had looked beautiful earlier that morning were now closing in and I thought I might suffocate. I was right on schedule, twenty-three miles into my third full marathon. “I really want this to be over,” I thought. “But it’s not and I still have to get back to the car.”

My next thought made me laugh, “This is just like trying to get a book published!”

Throwing in the towel would be a relief – for a while. I could simply stop at the next water station and ask the EMTs to haul me back to town. I could simply start fresh on a new, more interesting, more marketable writing project. That’s what I’ve done with every other book I’ve begun. I never called it quitting, but I never saw those books to fruition either.

While I still don’t have a publisher for my memoir, Twenty-Six Point Freaking Two, I have some great prospects. And even if none of those pan out, I can still self-publish. It is exhausting, but also exciting – just like the final miles of a very long race. It’s no time to quit even though I’m really really tired and everything hurts.

So I remember what I know how to do: continue. Just now. Just here. This moment. Feel your feet (even if they hurt). Do one thing and then the next. Right foot. Left foot. With writing, prepare the newsletter. Send it out. Wait to hear back from publishers. With running, just keep going.

I finished that marathon and I will finish this book. You have my promise.

What is your marathon? I want to cheer you to the finish.

The Only You

“Start telling the stories that only you can tell, because there’ll always be better writers than you and there’ll always be smarter writers than you. There will always be people who are much better at doing this or that – but you are the only you.” – Neil Gaiman

When I was a little girl, I wrote about horses. As I got older, I wrote about the people I loved. Older still, I wrote about myself. My writing professors said, “Write what you know.” I tried to oblige them.

I think Gaiman explains this concept more accurately. It’s not that I have to write about horses, the people I love, or even myself, but I have to tell whatever story I’m telling from my perspective. I see the world through a particular lens. Any story I tell will have that frame of reference. Even in fiction, my personality will come through.

Let’s say I choose an unreliable narrator. Even then, the story is mine because I choose how the narrator will hoodwink the reader. I select every detail. And my unconscious will have a lot to say about what decisions I make.

This, I believe, is a gift. If each of us is unique as a snowflake, then no two stories told by two different authors will be alike. There may be similarities, common themes, and familiar characters, but underneath, if we are true to ourselves, a special something will lie. The foundation will be our personality. And this is what makes our story marketable.

At least I hope this is true. I’ve written what I believe is my unique experience running a marathon. I’m a middle aged woman who was overweight when I began running. That’s not unique by any means. I also suffer from several mental health challenges. That doesn’t separate my story from those of others either. I run with my dog. I know plenty of folks who do that as well. But no one else has had the specific experience of living with my brain and body during this experience. No one else has had my precise thoughts and feelings as I walked (or ran) through this adventure. And that, I hope, is what will sell the book.

We’ll see. I’ve done my final edits . . . for now. My next step is to begin querying agents. I’ll keep you posted.

There’s revision and then there’s revision.

“The road to hell is paved with works-in-progress.” —Philip Roth

There are two main kinds of revision: big picture restructuring and small picture polishing. In big picture work, I move whole pieces of the book around and reshape the thing from the spine up. Sometimes this means adding new sections or cutting out whole other parts. The beginning becomes the end and vice versa. This kind of editing has to come first.

The second kind of editing is my favorite. This is the word choice editing. It’s grammar, punctuation, spelling, syntax, rhythm, and sound. This is where I remove all the unnecesssary words like “very” and “a lot.” It’s where I decide if I really need that second that. I rewrite the passive verb sentences into active voice. I polish and polish and polish.

The book I’m writing about running a marathon is still in the big picture editing phase. I am so tempted to jump into knit-picky grammar, punctuation, word choice, line by line revision, but that’s not what it needs. I err on the side of polishing since it is my favorite kind of editing. This will cause trouble. Unless I have the shape of the book down, doing smaller scale revision is a waste of time. The section I am so lovingly polishing might not even be there on the next draft. How much more difficult will it be to cut if I’ve just spent two weeks crafting it?

So I have to force myself to only look at the big picture. What can I cut? Not just words, but what whole sections? Is this part necessary? Can the book live without that? Does this section go as deep as it needs to go? What else does it need? How can I bring it to life?

Do you have a favorite form of editing? How do you help yourself do the kind of work you least enjoy? I’d love to hear about it.

Writing is Killing Us

Writing is Killing Us

“Go into cubeland in a tightly controlled corporate environment and you immediately sense that there is a malaise about being tied behind a computer screen seated all day. The soul of the nation is sapped, and now it’s time for the soul of the nation to rise.” – Dr. James Levine, Mayo Clinic

Writing is killing us. Well, writing itself isn’t killing us, but sitting at our desks all day hunched in front of our computers moving nothing but our fingers might be. According to one New York Times article, “Excessive sitting . . . is a lethal activity.” USA Today reported, “. . . people in sedentary occupations are at the highest risk of early death.” And How-To Geek put together a scary, statistic-filled infographic on the risks of so much sitting.

What’s a writer to do? Most of you have read (especially if you scroll to the bottom of my monthly newsletter and scan the “Paranoid Ex-Lawyer’s Release”) about my somewhat successful attempt to turn from couch potato into athlete. Unfortunately, the New York Times article cited above explains, “Exercise is not a perfect antidote for sitting.” The article continues, “Being sedentary for nine hours a day at the office is bad for your health whether you go home and watch television afterward or hit the gym. It is bad whether you are morbidly obese or marathon-runner thin.” Sigh. And here I thought running a marathon was the answer.

The New York Times article suggests the treadmill desk. To use this device, a worker walks very slowly on a low-noise treadmill while working at the desk specially designed to fit on the machine. I don’t have one, yet, but it’s on my wish list. There’s also the standing desk which has been used by the likes of Hemingway, Thomas Jefferson, and Charles Dickens. Everything old is new again! Given the space requirements and the price, I’m more likely to purchase a standing desk.

For now, though, I’ve simply instituted the “posture reset” policy. Every half hour, I get up, circle my arms over my head, touch my toes, and walk a big circle through the house or coffeeshop. I set the timer on my phone to beep (or vibrate if I’m in a public place) every 30 minutes alerting me it’s time to move. Will this ensure longevity? I don’t know, but it’s got to be better than sitting completely still for long periods.

How do you minimize the amount you sit? I’d love to hear your experiences.

How’d Those Resolutions Work For You?

How’d Those Resolutions Work For You?

“Many years ago I resolved never to bother with New Year’s resolutions, and I’ve stuck with it ever since.” ~Dave Beard

Last January, departing from my usual custom to not make New Year’s resolutions, I resolved to read 50 books and watch 50 movies in 2012 as part of the fiftyfifty.me challenge. I also promised to wear earrings every day. I missed all of those goals. Instead, I ran a marathon, revised more than half of the memoir about my last year with my father, and started writing a book about running. Setting goals isn’t a bad thing, just sometimes we wind up achieving different goals from the ones we set. At least that’s how it worked for me.

Although I didn’t achieve my publicly stated goals, I’m still pleased with my progress. I watched 41 movies including many titles I wouldn’t have watched if I hadn’t taken the challenge. I watched thrillers and documentaries, romances and comedies, and a few sad movies which made me cry. I kept track of the movies on Pinterest by posting an image and writing a one or two sentence comment about each. You can see them here.

As for the books, I finished 25. I read several memoirs, a few books about dogs, several running books, and four novels. I started many how-to books about running and didn’t finish them out of sheer boredom. Again, I’m pleased with the result. Twenty-five is nearly a book every two weeks which is still more than the 17 books the average person reads in a year.

The truth is that I couldn’t make myself begin many books because I was afraid. Ever since my last major depressive episode (the politically correct term for a nervous breakdown) which began after my niece died in February 2007, I have been self-preservationally selective about reading. I hate to say I’m sensitive, but it appears to be true. I fear reading anything too sad, too violent or too dark. I go to those emotional places so easily without the aid of art that I am loathe to read, see, hear, or visit any book, show, lecture, or exhibit that might send me tunneling into the depths. Although I am much more resilient now, I’m still afraid. And that fear kept me from reading more in 2012.

I picked up Marley and Me and although I have heard it is good, I’d also heard how it ends and couldn’t bring myself to read it. The same is true of The Reader which Ed adored and which has gotten high marks, but I couldn’t put myself through it. I thought about reading nothing but romance novels, but I couldn’t bear that either. While some romance novels are well-written, a little bit of that goes a long way with me. And so, twenty-five is my total. I tracked my progress on GoodReads if you care to look it up.

As for the earrings, it was lofty to think that I was going to dress up enough or even remember to wear earrings every day. It got old really quickly. I don’t think I made it through April. I’m not sure.

I thought about tackling the 50 book goal again in 2013, but decided against it. Rather, I will just read as many books as I can. I would love to hear suggestions of books with happy endings that are well written. Let me know what you adore. I will also watch as many movies as I can and will wear earrings when the spirit moves me! That is much more my style.

Did you make New Year’s Resolutions in 2012? If not, why not? If so, how did that work out for you? I’d love to hear your experiences.

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