Writing Wrongs

October 25, 2006

Itís official: Football season is over. Itís lot easier to turn the equipment in than it is to pick it up. Andrew cleaned up all his stuff and made the astute comment: ďItís a good thing we donít turn in the jock straps.Ē Yes, yes it is.

Itís love: The other day, a little boy in Kyraís preschool gave her a Dora the Explorer Band-Aid. Did he give one to any other child? Nope. When I quizzed her on why he gave her the Band-Aid, she said, ďBecause Iím his friend.Ē We searched for an appropriate ďowieĒ for it, which took a while because she doesnít have any. At last, by her ankle, we found an old, teeny, tiny scratch.

Itís a mystery: More on that deliberate practice article. Something I encountered this year: if it were in your power to get better at something you professed to love, why wouldnít you do it? Maybe you wouldnít achieve greatness, but what if you could break through to the next level? What if, by having more mastery, the entire process was more enjoyable?

The answer: I donít want to work that hard.


Now, I donít want to work that hard at cooking, or say, interior design. But then, my kids like tuna sandwiches and tomato soup for dinner and if the washcloths in the bathroom donít match, Iím not overly concerned. At the end of my life, when I look back at everything, Iím not going to be upset that instead of slaving over dinner, I heated some soup and then took the kids to the park. Or wail because--gasp--the washcloths didnít coordinate with the wallpaper.

I might regret never finishing that novel.

In fact, I know I would. Iíd also regret not figuring out how to write a better one.

You know, thereís that adage: do what you love and the money will come. Well, maybe not Donald Trump money (I suspect this is what people think when you tell them that), but certainly, if you love it, engage in deliberate practice, things can happen.

So. What do you love?

Charity Tahmaseb wrote at 9:43 a.m.