On Writing: A Comparison to the Marathon Part 3 of 3

So, I did it.  I completed my first marathon, the Rock n' Roll USA Marathon on March 16.  It's over.  Thank god. 

I'm not particularly proud of my finishing time, or the fact that my quadriceps became iron logs at Mile 21.  But, I did it.  And that's that. 

OK, it's funny, but am I the only person who thinks sloths are really creepy?

So, now we're all set up for the comparison between finishing a marathon and writing and it goes a little somethin' like this (at least in my experience):  finishing a marathon is like finishing a first draft.  There's a flurry of emotions as you cross the finish line and as you eek out your final sentence.  There's joy that this epic journey is finally done; there's anxiety over what's next; there's disappointment that it wasn't all that you hoped for; there's hope that the next time will be better.  Who out there is absolutely in love with their first draft, whether it be an article, a short story, or a novel?  Not me!  I usually hate it and fight the urge to bury it under a rock somewhere. 

This is where I bury my first drafts: under a giant rock guarded by goats. Fierce guard goats.

But, as the saying goes, time heals all wounds (except those with Staph infections).  I give the first draft a day or more (if deadlines allow) to "steep" and then take a look at it again with fresh eyes.  And then a funny thing happens: it's not as horrible a monstrosity as I first thought.  It's ok - ok in that first-drafty kind of wonky way.  And so was my marathon.  No one's first draft is a masterpiece just as no one's first marathon is their finest physical performance.  Both feats are trials - testing the waters, so to speak.  Then you go and prove to yourself you can actually stick it out and finish and no matter how slow you run or how ugly your first draft is, you finished SOMETHING and you also now have something to fall back on - the hard part is over. 

So, I'm letting my legs rest and recover and I have a first draft tucked away on my laptop.  I'll revisit both running and writing this week as soon as I fight off those fierce guard goats. 

P. S.

OK, here's a post-script to what I was talking about yesterday: the "hate phase" of writing.  Karen Russell, author of the Pultizer-nominated novel Swamplandia! has a wonderful take on this phase (and a little less negative than mine), as seen in her interview by BookBrowse.  In this interview, Karen is asked how it was to write her first novel.  She answers:

"It's such hard work and it also feels ridiculous to me sometimes, all the effort that it takes - like, why can't you get some imaginary people to do something interesting? You invented these fools, why can't you make them behave?"

I just think that's wonderful.  That's all.  Also, I need to learn more about alligators.

On Writing: A Comparison to the Marathon Part 2 of 3

Over-training

My marathon is this coming Saturday.  Like, in 5 days.  I'm freaking out.  Just thought you'd like an update.

Me. Right now.

But, to continue the thread from last post, I'd like to further compare marathon training to writing.  There is a concept in long distance running called over-training.  Over-training happens when an athlete doesn't allow enough recovery time between running days.  The body responds in insidious ways, such as decreased performance, constant muscle fatigue, crabbiness, and even athletic regression.  Curiously enough, different people experience over-training in different ways and there's not one good field test to confirm that yes, you're suffering from over-training. 

I started to experience over-training about a month and a half ago.  We were about 7 weeks out from race date (March 16, by the way) and I couldn't keep up with the group.  Then I couldn't make it up the hills.  Then my legs were on fire.  Constantly.  And I was wondering what the hell was wrong with me.

After entering the mandatory internet search to self-diagnose my problems, article after article listed my symptoms as over-training. Turns out the best thing to do for over-training is to NOT TRAIN.  So I took a week off. 

I dare to compare some parts of the writing process to the concept of over-training.  Not that you could ever write too much and drain your ability to produce verbiage (as if we were all giant metal tanks of words that, when empty, well, you were empty), but that when mired deep in a particular project, you may feel yourself losing your way or unable to keep up with your previous creative fire.  

When I write anything really over 2,000 words, I go through a love-hate-love cycle.  At first, I LOVE the idea - I am a writing genius!  Every word is pure gold!  Then, I get stuck in the drudgery of actually finishing the piece, and editing.  And I HATE it.  It's crap.  All of it.  This part doesn't make sense, a 5 year old could write that paragraph better - hell, my dog could write it better.  This part of the process, to me, is sometimes like over-training.  This part makes me crabby and makes me feel like I've regressed as a writer.  It's about being too critical of a first draft and sometimes even too negative when it comes to the purity of the creative process.  It's a dangerous place and like over-training, if not recognized and dealt with properly, can lead to serious damage. 

If you're an athlete and ignore the signs of over-training, a few things could happen.  You could get injured.  Also, you could burn out.  Most cataclysmic of all, both of these things could happen at the same time.  If you're a writer in this hate phase, you could listen to your inner demons and quit. And quitting is the worst thing a writer can do.  Well, except for plagiarism.  That's probably worse. 

But, like getting out of over-training, finding your way out of the hate phase comes down to taking some time away, at least for me.  Even a day's break from a project to let it "set" helps me come back with fresh eyes, eyes that aren't so critical as they were the day before.  And what's nice is that after that hate phase, there's another love phase.  After a break, I sometimes come back to a project and think: wow!  That's not too bad! Or at least not as bad as I first thought!  And that's a much better place to be. 

Cheesy ending, folks. Deal with it.

So, what I'm trying to say, and remind myself of, is that writing, like running, can be hard, but working through the tough bits to the finish is rewarding in the end.  I'll be trying to remember these very words on Saturday, as I'm around Mile 19 of the marathon.  I'll let you know how it goes.


PS: don't despair.  After this stupid marathon, it's back to more vet stuff, I promise.