Olympic writing

I’m watching the Olympic figure skaters and am struck by often they fall short—or just plain, fall. Years of training, hours of effort, coming back from horrific injury and yet, they fall. Hard. In front of a viewing audience of millions.

Two-time national champ Johnny Weir told a group of little girl skaters, “We’re skaters. We fall. A lot. Get used to it.”

But who wants to fall? That ice is hard. Yet, learning to fall and get up again is something we all need to do. In writing it means letting yourself write crap. Perfection is always the enemy of the creative process.

The real danger is in not realizing that failing is part of the process. Getting up again, going back to the desk after a miserable day writing, that’s where the good stuff is.

The new scoring system is controversial. The compulsory moves —do they rob the skater of freedom or enhance their artistry? I thought the artistry would be gone until I watched several of the skaters embrace the restrictions and soar. Their originality, personality and verve were clearly visible, even when defined within the constraints of the required elements.

Writers have to adhere to required elements. Grammar is a big one. Storytelling arcs. Genre conventions. All novels have basically the same elements, It’s what the author does within them that matters. We can either chafe against the restrictions, or embrace them and write the best book possible within our limits.

The best skaters were those who seamlessly integrated those steps into their routine by changing them up, skating backwards, adding flourishes and flair. The mundane became extraordinary when that happened. The writer does the same. Working in the boundaries, but somehow managing to rise above.