Running as a metaphor for, well, damn near everything, but specifically writing in this case

I ran a half-marathon on Sunday. I'm pausing here for all your applause

and oohs and ahhs. I totally deserve them.

I am a big girl and I mean that euphemistically. I weigh a lot and I have

a relatively bodacious set of tatas, if I do say so myself. I was not

built for this sport and I pretty much suck at it, but I keep doing it. To

run any kind of race at all (and by race, I mean participate) I have to

push past my own perceived limits, just like I have had to push past my

own perceived limits as a writer. I never thought I could write a romantic

suspense novel. I didn't think I had the logic to create a linear plot

that had twists and turns and reversals. I didn't think I had the

imagination to write an urban fantasy and create a shadow world within my

own. Now I've written both, one that Publishers Weekly says "takes off

like a rocket" and one that it says is an "exciting, sexy, and hilarious

debut."

Sometimes running isn't much fun. While there are days where I breeze

along, feeling strong and healthy and in control, there are just as many

where I feel like a decrepit old woman who can barely put one foot in

front of the other. It doesn't matter. Weekly mileage is important and the

only way to achieve that is to run on days when it's not fun as well as

the ones when it is fun. Writing is just the same for me. I have to lay

those pages down every day whether or not I'm in the zone or struggling

for each word. Weekly page count matters if I want to end up finishing my

book on time.

I will never win a race. I am slow. Really really slow. I've been running

for years and while I occasionally have times when I'm a little faster

than I was, I'm never fast, and as an overall trend, I get slower every

year. I get such a tremendous amount of satisfaction from just being out

there, though! I doubt I'll ever "win" at publishing, either. The chances

of me becoming a NY Times Bestseller seem slimmer every year (which is

more than I can say for myself despite all the running!). I feel seriously

lucky, however, just to be able to get my books published. I have an

inkling of how many people are trying to do what I'm doing. Even if I

never hit a bestseller list, it's an achievement to just get a book

published.

I should probably quit running. I have a heel that acts up and it's hard

on my hips and knees. I just can't though. It's insinuated itself in my

life. It's part of my social life. My schedule is built around it. In a

lot of ways, I should probably give up writing, too. It's a tough way to

make a living. I might well be better off getting a "normal" job with

benefits and regular hours and all that stuff. I can't seem to get myself

to do it, though. It's insinuated itself into the way I see the world and

the way I think. I'm not sure I can stop writing.