Writing Wrongs

October 25, 2006

It�s official: Football season is over. It�s 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: �It�s a good thing we don�t turn in the jock straps.� Yes, yes it is.

It�s love: The other day, a little boy in Kyra�s 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, �Because I�m his friend.� We searched for an appropriate �owie� for it, which took a while because she doesn�t have any. At last, by her ankle, we found an old, teeny, tiny scratch.

It�s 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 wouldn�t you do it? Maybe you wouldn�t 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 don�t want to work that hard.

Oh.

Now, I don�t 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 don�t match, I�m not overly concerned. At the end of my life, when I look back at everything, I�m 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 didn�t coordinate with the wallpaper.

I might regret never finishing that novel.

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

You know, there�s 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.

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