I've previously said I was going to blog about writing and specifically about outlining today. I lied. It's something that I do. I blame the writer in me for that. People pay me to lie. Yes, I'm also a lawyer too. [insert lawyer joke of choice here]. I'm going to blog about a subject that is deeply personal and close to the very essence of what makes my life worthwhile, a subject that can move me to tears of joy or shouts of rage.
Tonight I will watch my Dallas Cowboys take the field and be elated or crushed depending on the results. I'm gonna blog about football. Oh, yes I am. I love my Cowboys and I love football. Football is the very essence of life. You've probably heard all the clichés about the game, that it is about yards and inches, that it is a metaphor for war, etc. But I'm telling you, it is more.
It is about the team. There is no "I" in team. Of course, there is no "we" either. (There is, however, meat, but that's a separate issue.) It's about individuals doing their personal best. Glory is no mere accident, but the result of sacrifice and preparation. Winning doesn't just occur on Sunday. It begins during the blistering summer sun. It continues in sweaty weight rooms and on the field with endless repetitions and conditioning drills. If the game itself can be measured in inches and yards, the preparation can be measured in minutes and hours.
The game is the culmination of those minutes and hours. Sixty minutes of proof that you have paid your dues. Football is played in all weather. Snow or sleet, rain or punishing heat--they play. They play hurt. There is a difference, you, see in hurt and injured. You will get hit. You will be slammed to the turf, bruised, cut, beaten. Shake it off. Get back up. Keep playing.
Football is brutal that way, but it is also poetic and beautiful. Witness the receiver in slow motion, working the sidelines deep. The pass comes in high, a jump ball. This is what those repetitions are for. He knows where the ball will be and his hands close around it just as the corner puts a shoulder into his ribs. Somehow the receiver manages to will his feet down on the correct side of the white line, to drag his toes across the turf, to hold onto the ball as he is driven to the ground. Brutal and elegant, in the very same moment. And the crowd goes wild.
Which brings me back to writing. Did I say this wasn't really about writing? I lied again. It is, because like the football player, the writer isn't created by a single event. Writers start out as readers -- fans -- who cherish the stories and the written word. We learn our craft and hone it one story at a time. The hard part happens off camera, where we sweat over the structure, the perfect word, the recalcitrant character. We write and learn and polish and then hopefully submit our works only to be driven to the ground by rejection. If you are a player, you get back up. Shake it off. Keep playing.
Football is like writing and yet where the two diverge is the team. We don't join a team. We create one. We make our own team of editors, agents and beta readers. We find our own support system through others who understand what it means to be a writer, to be constantly rejected and still keep pursing the craft. Many will fall by the wayside, but the hardy and resilient will find a way to success.
For the first time in my writing career, I am beginning to feel like I have a team. I am not the lone player pushing myself beyond personal limits in a secluded gym. I'm on the field. I have trainers and cheerleaders and coaches. When knocked down, I will get back up and if this is hard, I have teammates there to help me to my feet again. I have the confidence that I will succeed.
I may not have tea, but I have won The Great Tea Debacle.
Tonight I will watch my Dallas Cowboys take the field and be elated or crushed depending on the results. I'm gonna blog about football. Oh, yes I am. I love my Cowboys and I love football. Football is the very essence of life. You've probably heard all the clichés about the game, that it is about yards and inches, that it is a metaphor for war, etc. But I'm telling you, it is more.
It is about the team. There is no "I" in team. Of course, there is no "we" either. (There is, however, meat, but that's a separate issue.) It's about individuals doing their personal best. Glory is no mere accident, but the result of sacrifice and preparation. Winning doesn't just occur on Sunday. It begins during the blistering summer sun. It continues in sweaty weight rooms and on the field with endless repetitions and conditioning drills. If the game itself can be measured in inches and yards, the preparation can be measured in minutes and hours.
The game is the culmination of those minutes and hours. Sixty minutes of proof that you have paid your dues. Football is played in all weather. Snow or sleet, rain or punishing heat--they play. They play hurt. There is a difference, you, see in hurt and injured. You will get hit. You will be slammed to the turf, bruised, cut, beaten. Shake it off. Get back up. Keep playing.
Football is brutal that way, but it is also poetic and beautiful. Witness the receiver in slow motion, working the sidelines deep. The pass comes in high, a jump ball. This is what those repetitions are for. He knows where the ball will be and his hands close around it just as the corner puts a shoulder into his ribs. Somehow the receiver manages to will his feet down on the correct side of the white line, to drag his toes across the turf, to hold onto the ball as he is driven to the ground. Brutal and elegant, in the very same moment. And the crowd goes wild.
Which brings me back to writing. Did I say this wasn't really about writing? I lied again. It is, because like the football player, the writer isn't created by a single event. Writers start out as readers -- fans -- who cherish the stories and the written word. We learn our craft and hone it one story at a time. The hard part happens off camera, where we sweat over the structure, the perfect word, the recalcitrant character. We write and learn and polish and then hopefully submit our works only to be driven to the ground by rejection. If you are a player, you get back up. Shake it off. Keep playing.
Football is like writing and yet where the two diverge is the team. We don't join a team. We create one. We make our own team of editors, agents and beta readers. We find our own support system through others who understand what it means to be a writer, to be constantly rejected and still keep pursing the craft. Many will fall by the wayside, but the hardy and resilient will find a way to success.
For the first time in my writing career, I am beginning to feel like I have a team. I am not the lone player pushing myself beyond personal limits in a secluded gym. I'm on the field. I have trainers and cheerleaders and coaches. When knocked down, I will get back up and if this is hard, I have teammates there to help me to my feet again. I have the confidence that I will succeed.
I may not have tea, but I have won The Great Tea Debacle.
