Quit Yer Bellyachin' (or: How to Write a Book)

This is what I look like when I first thought of writing a book..."YEAH RIIIIGHT."

 

 

 

 

 

Seriously. Quit yer bellyachin' about book writing! Anyone can do it. I used to say that very thing to people about running marathons: Anyone can run one if you want to. Key word: WANT. You have to really want to run a marathon or write a book or get that job or lose that weight. 

I was reminded of all the time I put into training for a marathon. 16 weeks, 500 miles, marathon. Done. If I could do that, I could certainly write a book in a month. At least that's what Victoria Lynn Schmidt tells me in her book Book in a Month. (Except, PS: there are so many spelling errors I've caught that it kind of turns my stomach, but that's for another rant.)

I thought back to 3 years ago when I was training for the Twin Cities Marathon and how I used to wake at ungodly hours (no seriously UNGODLY because no god would wake that early to save his planet) in order to go running with my dog in the middle of winter. In the dark. 10 degrees below zero. Naked.

Okay, not really naked, but you get it. Something was getting me out of my nice, warm bed into the ice, cold tundra which is Minneapolis in December. What was getting me out? My personal insanity? My pure and powerful will? My need for bragging rights? I don't know for certain, but no matter...I did it.

And I ran a marathon and did pretty fair (I didn't qualify for Boston [like I did previously] though I managed a sub-4 hour race which I wear as a banner of awesome).

So I decided to transfer all that time and energy into writing my book. Afterall I did include that fact in my 2011 Valentine's card to all my friends and family, so they're waiting to read my book.

Now I wake up at 5:45 each week day morning, hit my snooze until 6:00 and drag my fingers to my computer and tickle the chicklets for 2 hours everyday. With 16 days under my belt and 126 pages, I feel basically like a rock star. Or to play up the marathon analogy, I feel like a competitor.

This mid-month reflection has me turning my neandrathal look of angst into this: