I love it when I get a lot of work done with little effort. Last night it was getting on to be 10pm and I hadn’t done squat writing-wise. I was tempted to just let it go, but I’ve been digging this policy of trying to get at least a few words done each day because I always end up getting more done than I plan.

 So I set out to get 250 words done. That came and went easily enough in about five minutes so I decided to push through and go for 500. That took me about fifteen minutes and I was happy until I realized the next chapter I was going to start was the perfect place to drop a 1,000 word chunk from the last book that nicely illustrated some themes of the book and had some good dialogue. So after about half an hour I had over 1500 words and only had to put forth 500 words worth of effort.

In trying to describe why he kept subjecting himself to the horrors of golf, a friend of mine told me all it took was one good hit off the driver to get him hooked. He would spend the rest of his life trying to replicate the feeling of that perfect hit. I had one of those perfect hits last night.

3 thoughts on “Ping

  1. That life spent trying to replicate the perfect first short is an old trope of writing about golf. One variant, I believe from that great golf writer P.G. Wodehouse, had it that golf is a snap that first time, because the practitioner has no idea what he’s doing. It’s only once he starts thinking and trying to perfect his game that the agony starts.
    Detectives Beyond Borders
    “Because Murder Is More Fun Away From Home”

  2. Golf is the great equalizer. It is an addiction, not a game. It’s the only “sport” where mere mortals can compete evenly with the world’s best. The handicap system does that. Imagine playing tennis against Federer, or soccer against Ronaldinho? But I can take my 10.1 index and go play Tiger, and actually have a chance to beat him. (a chance, I said)

    Golf reveals our flaws – mental, emotional, physical and character. It also exposes our strengths of the same, if we have any.

    I’ve always said that I can learn more about a man playing 18 holes of golf with him, than I could working next to him for a year. I honestly believe this.

    For me, it’s not about trying to hit that perfect shot again. It’s a battle against myself – on so many levels. To take complete control over my instincts and inclinations, and ego, by giving up control, and “just let the ball get in the way.”

    Is there another game on the planet that a person can perform so horribly and yet, be unable to quit?

    And when I’ve struggled writing, I throw on the iPod, go to the range and hit balls, thinking about nothing. It helps both the swing and the scribbling.

    Golf gets a bad rap because of the way it’s presented in the media. Golf is cool.

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