Mette Ivie Harrison's Blog, page 86

Writing Tip: Trust Your Subconscious

I was reading an article this week in Discover about the unconscious and how much of our lives is really controlled by the subconscious rather than the conscious mind. This is something that I have been arguing for a long time. It comes up strangely in political debates with both conservatives and liberals. I laugh a little at both sides at their naive belief that we can change humanity in any significant way. I just don't believe that. I think that people are mostly machines determined by biology. Of course, there are those few moments where we break out of biology, but not many of them.

OK, well, on to writing. Writers write for many reasons, or they say they write for many reasons. I don't believe it. I think there is only one reason that we write. It's because we have a deep need to control our environment. We humans have these enormous brains capable of understanding the future and of being conscious. But the reality is that this has both advantages and disadvantages. Yes, it allows us to manipulate our environment and take over the world, enslave other species. But it also means that we have to live with enormous anxiety. We are capable of imagining a thousand deaths every day. And writing, all creative endeavor, is in my experience, an attempt to imagine also that we control our own lives. That we shape ourselves most of all.

I don't really believe in a subconscious uberstory that we are all telling like Karl Jung. But I do think that we humans tell similar stories because we are so very similiar, no matter who or where we are, or how "developed" or "advanced" we become. And this is why I think that writers who think they control their own writing are just standing in the way of their own subconscious minds. I believe it is important to read, to feed my subconscious images and plot lines. And then I believe it is important to set aside a time each day to allow my subconscious to be free to "play." I believe it is important to make sure that I don't stifle the subconscious with too many critical thoughts.

But mostly I just let the subconscious take over when I sit down at the keyboard. I try to step aside and let the story take control. If that sounds mystical, I don't really mean it to be. I certainly think that you have to work with what the subconscious gives you to make it readable and publishable. But I suppose this is why in the end I am resistant to the idea of outlining or pre-planning books. It's just that I think that doing so often gets in the way of the play of the subconscious and is in some ways a lie, telling ourselves that *we* control our own stories. Not sure if this is actually advice or more like a manifesto of art.

Hope it is useful. If not, feel free to jettison. What works for your art is what matters, not what works for mine.

destructive love myth #13: single guy and married woman

OK, I admit that I have liked this now and then. In Blackpool, I thought David Tennant did a great job convincing me for some reason that he had fallen in love with this married woman almost at first sight. But then I watched it with my teen daughters and although they loved DT, they were pretty skeptical about the romance. They mostly enjoyed the funny parts of the show, including the cheesy dance numbers and lame singing. Also, seeing David Morrissey tower over DT as if he were tiny.

So I spent some time reconsidering my first impulse. And then I started noticing how often this particular theme appears in romance. The young, hot single guy who falls for the married woman who is unfulfilled, trapped in her marriage, treated badly by her husband, bored by her life as a mom with demanding children, and generally tired of being seen as "old" and "undesirable." And I realized that I've hit middle age and that these romances are specifically targeted to women in my age group. And then I was embarrassed that they appealed to me at all.

I am not unfulfilled. I'm not tired of raising kids. And mostly hot young guys make me feel really uncomfortable as sex symbols on TV because they are--ew--young enough to be my sons. Or close enough. Sneaking around, lying to kids and a spouse, those are not things that are admirable character traits. Also, being so sexually attracted to someone that you throw everything else in your life to the winds is really not that romantic, either. It's kind of pathetic.

It's like the song "I Need You Now," which is musically a great song, but the lyrics and the whole idea of the song creep me out. I'm drunk and we've broken up, but I'm calling you at three in the morning anyway because I need someone and you're the only person I can think of? That's romantic? Needing someone isn't the same as loving them.

Anyway, I'm going to be on the watch for this particular love myth to see where else it appears. I watched plenty of soap operas as a kid and know this is a staple there. I also know that happily ever after can feel like it's boring to write about, so there always has to be some new romance. But I think that's the easy way out. In Shall We Dance with Richard Gere, one of the things I loved was that it wasn't about a romance with another woman. The married man was bored, but he fell in love with a thing, not a person. I liked that. It was a great twist, and I think it is also true to life.

race report Jordanelle 2011

This was a family event. 14 and 17 signed up to do the Olympic distance with my husband and me, their first longer distance event (1 mile swim 25 mile bike 6 mile run). The other three kids volunteered to run one of the run aid stations, and they are practiced at this. From an unbiased mom's perspective, they were the best aid station on the course. They filled the cups properly (about halfway full, so that you can pinch the cup and drink it on the run--if it's too full, it spills all over, which doesn't matter so much for water, but isn't fun with Gatorade). This also meant everyone had to wake up at 5am and drive down to the race venue. And then we had to park about 5 miles from the race start, the participants had to bike in with all their gear in backpacks, the other 3 had to take the shuttle in and pay to get into the park.

We met up again there and walked down to the swim start and chatted for a couple of hours. I figured I'd done my warm up, but I got in some stretching and my usual 3 potty stops, then got into my wetsuit about 20 minutes before the race start. I also took in one of my caffeinated gus. My husband and 14 started first, then five minutes later it was me and 17. I told the other three they could stay and watch everyone come out of the water, and then they needed to go up to the aid station. It was fun to get out of the water and hear them cheer for me. It was also fun to realize that I'd finished in 25:30, which is my fastest swim time ever (on a course where I trusted the distance was accurate). In case you are interested, I did exactly 1632 strokes. Yes, I count them all. I have a hard time seeing my progress otherwise, and it keeps me focused. Call me OCD. I am.

I hustled through transition. I felt like I was going slow because I had to sit down to get out of my wetsuit, but in fact, my transition was under 2:00, which was also my fastest ever. It was a good omen for the rest of the day.

I took in my next gu as soon as I got out of the water, then passed my husband at about mile 3, which is pretty normal when he gets a headstart. Then I kept picking off people, mostly guys who started ahead of me. I think I only passed one woman on the bike. I didn't know how well I was doing until the turnaround when I could count the women ahead of me (there were three and I had no chance of catching them since I knew I would likely not be a contender during the run). I played leapfrog back and forth with about three different guys. I don't think they were trying to be annoying. We're not supposed to ride within three bike lengths of each other, but I think we were all about the same speed and what happens is that you see someone ahead of you and you get faster as you approach their back wheel because of drafting. Then as you pull ahead, the drafting ends and you get slower again and they pass you.

In case you are interested in my OCD racing habits, I do not count pedal strokes on the bike except when I am passing someone. I have 15 seconds to pass legally, so I try to do it in 15 pedal strokes. I actually have more like 22 strokes, unless I'm doing fewer than 90 rpm, like on a hill. But that's my rule of thumb. I don't pass if I can't do it in 15 pedal strokes (counting on one leg only).

I hit my goal time on the bike almost exactly. A few seconds slower because the last section of the course you can't pass anyone, but I figured it was just as well since I could save up some energy for the run. I actually had a couple of extra minutes at this point on what I'd hoped to do (though I hadn't written down a formal goal). I let myself take it easy on the run the first loop, figuring that if I felt good I could kick it in on the second loop. But every time I've done this course, I've ended up slowing down on the second loop, so I thought this strategy made sense. I got to pass by my kids' aid station and that was cool.

I took in another gu and headed up the first big hill. This run is mostly a trail run, and it's a pretty rough trail, gravel and washed out sandy sections with tricky footing. The downhills are scarier than the up. It's not my usual thing, but it has the advantage of making it feel like you are going somewhere. I can always think that I just have to get to the top of this next hill, and then it will get easier. I was hitting about 8:20 miles at this point, which isn't a super fast pace for me, and was quite a bit slower than the top three women (who were more at 7:30 pace). But I was happy. I'm not a runner. I'm better than I used to be, but it's still not my forte.

Yes, I count every step on the run. This is partly to keep myself focused, but it's more to help me keep my goals very short. I think about the pace I'm running and if I can keep it up for 100 more steps. If I can, then I do it and reassess for the next 100 steps. Crazy, I know. I do about 730 steps per mile, though I tend to slow down when I am tired.

I finished the first loop in a good time (about 25:00) and started on the second loop. I also was able to speed up a little (I did it in 22:30), which I was happy about. Sadly, at about the 5.5 mile mark, I was passed by one of the women I'd talked to briefly on the swim because she was one of the two swimmers without a wet suit in the Olympic distance (she was in a bra top and shorts). The other one of the two was my daughter, who hates wetsuits and is convinced she is faster without one. She darted past me and for about two minutes I hung with her. I didn't think I could beat her, but I hoped I could speed up. Then I gave up and let her go. She finished in fourth, bumping me back to fifth. I later checked her run time, and it was about 40:00, which means she was hitting under 7:00 miles, and she was the fastest female runner in the Olympic distance. So I congratulate myself I was able to hang with her even for a little while.

After I finished my own race, which I was pretty sure would be first place in my age group, I went directly through the grazing area, grabbing a half bagel and a bottle of water, which I ate as I headed back onto the run course. Before the race, we had estimated everyone's times and it seemed possible that I would be able to catch the two kids and run with them after I'd finished. I went to the aid station where my other kids were at, and asked them who they'd seen in the family. I figured if I'd missed the kids, I could try to hurry and catch them or possibly wait for the second loop.

It turned out that 14 was twenty minutes ahead, and no way could I catch him. He ended up finishing about 30 minutes ahead of schedule, and his run was considerably faster than we thought he could do (about 12 minutes per mile). 17 hadn't come through yet, though, so I waited for her, finishing my water and taking another gu in. At this point, I was pretty exhausted, but I wanted to try to help 17 through the run, which she hates.

As I was sitting there, a woman who was significantly overweight came walking through, sobbing quite loudly. She was clearly at the edge of her strength, even walking, and one of the volunteers called out to her, "You're almost finished." I don't know if the volunteer thought that she was on her second loop or just figured that she had already finished the swim and the bike. Many triathletes come to the sport from running and think that running is the easy part. But this woman was not happy with the supposedly encouraging comment. She shouted back, "No, I'm not," and continued walking and sobbing. I honestly wondered if there was anything anyone could say or do to help her, but I couldn't think of what, so I let her go by.

About ten minutes later, 17 showed up and told me she was going with my husband's suggested plan of 2 minutes walking, 2 minutes running. This is just so that you understand that my kids are not naturally good at this. She was hoping to hit 15 minute miles, but was afraid that her running pace was 15 minutes per mile and her walking pace considerably slower. It was at first, but she sped up as she went along. The first loop I did with her, there were still some people on the course. It's been a long time since I have seen this end of a race. People don't realize that I have not always been a successful athlete. But even in doing triathlons, I have sometimes been at the end of the race, especially when I've had bike issues and 17 did not have a good bike.

The back end of a race is very different than the front end. My husband and kids have often told me that I look "mad" when I am racing. This is simply my look of utter and complete concentration. I don't chat with other competitors. I don't spend time saying "good job" because I don't have the breath to speak. Honestly. Sometimes I will raise a hand in farewell, but that is all that I can do as I pass by someone else. I'm not trying to be rude. I'm just racing. But this end of the race is rather different. Every single person we saw on the course (most of them passing us) told us we were doing a good job, and to keep going. All the aid station helpers talked to us and complimented us. It was interesting for me to see how often I was tempted to tell people that I'd already finished, that I was actually just along for 17. I still had my race number on, though not my timing chip. They all assumed we were just slow. It bothered me a little, but on the other hand, it was a great experiment.

I didn't try to push 17 much. Her goal time (set in consultation with Dad) was 4:00 and she had met all the other parts of it. She did have to do 15 minute miles of the run, but I kept watch on our time and even with the 2 minutes on, 2 minutes off, we were pretty close to hitting it right on. When we started the second loop, we were the only people left on the course. The aid stations had closed down, leaving cups of warm water behind. A race director followed behind us, picking up cones that marked the course as we passed by. He waved and was friendly, but it was obvious, he wanted to clean up and go home. At the half mile to the finish mark, I told 17 she had to run all the last 6 minutes if she was going to finish in 4 hours. Then I asked her if she wanted me to run across the finish line with her or peel off. She said she wanted me to let her cross alone. We'd hoped there would be a photographer there, but I'm pretty sure he had already gone home.

When she turned the final corner, there was a huge cheer as the announcer (who I'm sure knew she was the last finisher on the course) called out her name. She crossed the line and got more attention than I had. Then the course shut down immediately. Yes, even the sobbing woman had beat her by about 12 minutes. 17 was too tired to go back down to get her bike and other gear, so my husband and I wrangled 2 bikes each, and double backpacks while she sat and drank and ate with the other kids. We got on the last shuttle bus back to the car and packed ourselves and our bikes back in, then headed home. It took me about an hour to hit my normal three hour puppet-strings-cut feeling. I was so proud of my kids, all of them. And myself, actually.

Though now I realize that my own finishing time is sort of an afterthought. I finished in 5 minutes off my best ever time, from last year. This is cool for me because I'm getting older and still faster. Most athletes don't have that experience. They keep slowing down, but it hasn't hit me yet and that is exciting. Maybe I'll have to change sports when it does happen. For now, I love that the summer is over, that it was filled to the brim with everything I could fit into it, from a trip to London with 17 and 15 to a neighborhood play, and finally this triathlon. This is one of those moments I want to freeze and sort of hold forever. I don't want the kids to get older because 17 is heading off to college next year and everything will change. I often want things to change and get better, but not this. This was the perfect day.

Friday Tri: Nerves Are Your Friend

I always get nervous before a race. Tomorrow is the Jordanelle Tri, an olympic distance race I've done five times before. It's the same race, but it's different every time. I always want to do well, and I sometimes have been disappointed, sometimes pleasantly surprised. This time, 14 and 17 are doing it with me and my husband, and the other three kids are all coming to volunteer, so that makes it more pleasant. But the nerves are the same. I am sick with them right now and can hardly eat. Last night, I had difficulty sleeping. That is pretty much par for the course. If I get 5-6 hours the two nights before the race, that's good news. It seems like it would be better to get lots of sleep, but that never happens.

I have been trying lately to think differently about those nerves, though. In the same way I've been trying to think differently about pain, emotional and physical. A friend of mine told me about a trick she learned doing "mindfulness" therapy, in which she pays attention carefully to her body, lying flat, and taking stock. She notes where she feels pain, but doesn't judge it on a scale or compare it to previous days, as I am tempted to do. She simply notes it, accepts it, and moves on. Pain is a signal that means something. It is helpful information. But it does not require a particular reaction. I can cry when I am in pain, or I can choose not to cry and hold it in. I can see the pain as terrible, as negative, as proof that the world is bad and that God hates me. Or I can see it as something that will help me grow. Or I can see it as a neutral, as part of life, but not the only part of life. Good and bad together.

In the same way, I think that the nerves I feel before the race can be good, bad, or neutral. In my head, I have been trying to retrain myself to think of them as a positive thing. I feel nervous because I have prepared for a long time for a race, because it matters to me, and because I do not know what the outcome will be. Finding out what the outcome will be is actually a pleasant part of the experience. When I am in the race, I enjoy it. Racing is the thing I love best about triathlon. I love the adrenaline rush. I love being out there with other people. I love the stories that come out of racing. Training isn't as intense an experience. Training is just to get me ready for races.

In fact, when I start a race, the moment the gun goes off and I begin to swim or run (it almost never starts on a bike), the nerves disappear. I am no longer worried about the race. I am in the race. I am doing what needs to be done. And if something goes bad (as happens, sometimes), I don't feel nervous then, either. I may be frustrated, or depressed. But I also know that I have done all that I could do, and I must accept that the outcome, this time, is not what I wanted it to be. But there will be other times. There are always other times.

I think that the nerves I feel are actually my body storing up energy, ready to release it like a rubber band pulled taut and then let go of. If I didn't have this nervous feeling, I wouldn't do as well in races. I wouldn't care about the outcome. I wouldn't do what it takes to do well beforehand. So, really, the nerves are just a part of the race, a part of the experience of being a triathlete. I must accept that, as much as I accept the adrenaline rush of the race itself, the satisfaction and emotional exhaustion at the finish line, or the glory of the podium. Good and bad, nerves are not going to go away anytime soon.

Hello, nerves. There you are. Welcome back. You will go away again, as the wave passes over me and then recedes.

Thursday Quote: The Demon's Surrender by Sarah Rees Brennan

"'We don't lie. You know I am telling you the truth he never did. He left you a thousand times. He used to lie bed daydreaming about he and his father driving off, getting away from you when you were a nightmare child with black button eyes. He used to not be able to sleep because he was scared of you! He worked with his leg hurting, and he thought about how much easier the struggle would be if he didn't have to feed you and your mother. He knew Mae preferred you, so many girls preferred you, and he resented you for that. He would get in the car and drive away and leave you for ten, fifteen minutes, driving out of the city never to come back, until he turned around. He meant to leave you. You took his life, and you took his chance at love, and he hated you, and he wanted to leave you!'
Nick swallowed, the flex of his throat terribly obvious and almost vulnerable with his head tipped back like that.
'But he didn't leave.'"

It's hard to find a quote from this book that makes any sense out of context, but this is a good one. I think that for me, this gets at what I am trying to write about, too, about what it means to be human. To fight against what is instinct, and to do what we think is right instead, and how hard this struggle is, every day. Those who admit the struggle are the ones I think are the most heroic. This is why I love Alan as a character, but also why I love Nick. The metaphor of having a demon live inside you is what being human is, every day.

Wednesday Writing Tip: Confidence Tricks

I was talking to a writer friend a few weeks ago about the PhD. Sometimes it feels like having the degree is a millstone around my neck. I often keep it out of conversations for fear of intimidating people around me (I do that plenty without the help of the PhD tag). I have a friend who delights in spreading the news of my PhD around when he introduces me, since he takes pleasure in seeing the reaction. But I have to live with it, and as I have learned since being a teen, it doesn't exactly endear you to people to be thought of as smart.

But my friend insisted that having a degree opened doors for me. She said that at least I would always have something to fall back on, if the writing gig didn't work. I could teach at a university or translate or something. The likelihood of that seems very small to me. If I decided I wanted a job, I would probably be more likely to become a personal trainer than a professor type. I like teaching, but it doesn't pay that well and there is a lot of hassle involved, as I know, since I did it for four years.

But as the conversation turned around to her worries about her writing career, I realized something. What the PhD had actually given me was the ability to blow off academia, critics, and awards in a way that I think most writers can't. The fear of not writing the "great American novel" is just not something that afflicts me. I made a conscious choice to write commercial fiction. I like the mix that I've chosen to write in, between literary and fun, and I don't feel any need to show homage to great writers I don't actually think are great.

I've seen how politically and personally motivated literary assessments are from the inside. Academics just don't impress me. I'm not saying they're worthless. I think they teach an interesting way to look at literature more closely. But they're just one opinion, that's all. There are plenty of writers who have continued to be popular centuries later and the academics are simply standing with their mouths open, unable to explain this.

For example, Louisa May Alcott. Jane Austen at least played with language, though literary critics are annoyed with her attendance on the "small" things of life. Actually, this is my feminism coming out, but many popular writers are women. That "damned mob of scribbling women," who annoyed Nathaniel Hawthorne so much. Because they were making money and he wasn't, and he "knew" he was a better writer than they were.

Well, I am happy to be part of that mob of scribbling women. I think a certain kind of confidence about writing and choosing your material consciously is a good thing for a writer. Yeah, we are a neurotic bunch. We can make up fears where no one has ever even thought of making up a fear before. I don't know if anything I write is going to last the test of time. I don't think anyone can know that in advance, though I'm sure there are plenty of academics who believe they can. It's just that you have to close your eyes to that and jump.

An analogy:

In triathlon, the swim is usually done in open water. Sometimes a fresh water lake, sometimes an ocean. There are sometimes reports of jelly fish stings or even shark sightings, more often of some intestinal disease caught in a lake. Every time I get in the water, I am panicked by the thought of the creatures, microscopic or not, who are swimming in there along with me. Blessedly, the water is usually so opaque that I can't see anything in it. But sometimes I feel things, real or not. I pretend in these situations that my wetsuit is armor to protect me again creature touch. Or when I am swimming without a wetsuit, I just tell myself some other lie. Like the creatures are in the cold parts of the lake. Or on vacation. Anything to get it done.

While biking, I can make myself unable to go on if I think about the people who have died on tricky bike descents on the Tour de France or even friends of mine who've had accidents in races while policemen were at the stop light directing traffic. Or people who die in training rides, one of them on the road I ride on often, leaving behind a 6 month old baby. I could go crazy and stop racing because of any of these things.

Yes, it is true that I often choose to do my rides indoors precisely because of the mental energy it takes to turn off the fear. But when I race, I put it out of my mind. I've learned the trick and I don't think it's that different from the trick of putting the critics and the fear of writing "the right thing." Writing is just what you do. Sometimes it works, sometimes it doesn't. There's no point in going crazy about that. Everyone is going to write some stinkers and everyone can write well. No one can predict it, just like no one can predict exactly when you'll have your best day in a race. You do what you can, then you close your eyes and let the rest go.

Week #2 of "poor" month: School Shopping

We got out cash this month and put it into envelopes in hopes that it would help us to stick to the budgets and that the visual would help us (and the kids) see how much money we had left. I know that paper money is a metaphor, that it is a fiction that is convenient for us to cooperate on. Nonetheless, when scrimping, it's awful useful to see it as a jar of honey that's going empty.

So, yesterday was school shopping. We had $200. I think we usually spend more like twice that. Elementary school kids do fine with some crayons and paper, but high school kids are spendier. In lots of ways, actually. The kids complained when we presented this idea to them at the first of the month (notably, 14, who is very careful to make sure we know that EVERYTHING we do is wrong). But I must give them props for accepting the reality that we were making them do this and moving on.

On Sunday, the newspaper was looked over carefully. All of the kids were involved in finding the best deals and clipping coupons. Two very expensive items were on the list of things this month. One was a graphing calculator for 14. The other was a new bag/organizer for 15, who had one last year that she loved but sadly died due to being used too much. She looked on line for a replacement, found out that the on-line price was about $45. So the object of going to stores was to find something she liked as well, but at a lower price. The object for the calculator was to get it at something less than $125, which was the list price. And then we had to get the other various portfolios, notebooks, paper, pencils (and mechanical pencils, which my husband has introduced the kids to and addicted them to), and crayons for 9.

We started out last night at Walmart. Lots of other school shoppers there. I said out loud at one point, "Walmart is where poor people shop." 15 shushed me in embarrassment. "These people are really poor," she said. Well, we shop at Walmart plenty even when we're not doing poor month. I meant it facetiously. But there is some truth to it. Walmart is great for paper and cheap pencils and crayons. But once we'd gotten what we could there, we moved on to Office Max. We had a paper bag from them that we could fill and get 20% off everything. We also had a $10 off card in the mail.

Kids made sacrifices, some buying simple three-ring binders with added plastic portfolios to make their own cheaper organizers. They didn't scrimp on the mechanical pencils so much. Except that we got the discount from the bag. 15 found an organizer in faux leather for $45, which we used the $10 off card on. And we came in under budget enough that my husband showed off the $36 left in the envelope at the end so that we had something left in case the kids discovered an emergency item necessary after school starts.

I was really proud of the kids. For myself, I have been surprised at my range of feelings. Last week, I made a blueberry muffin cake and forgot to put in baking powder. This made the cake completely inedible, as you can guess. But I was upset because those are the last blueberries we're going to see this month. I also discovered that iceberg lettuce just doesn't cut it as a substitute for real mixed greens for me. So I went and bought some more of the expensive stuff. I now have $50 left in the food budget and this week I still have to get lunch bags, plastic sandwich bags (do they even have the foldover kind anywhere?) and lunch meat.

A good side effect of all this has been that I have started making more homemade breakfasts and treats because we can't afford cold cereal and milk. We've had several coffee cakes and I've made homemade cinnamon rolls that the kids have really liked. (I'm a better baker than a cook.)

On a side note, I spent some time this week with a family that is truly poor and on a form of assistance, from the LDS church rather than the government. A couple of things I learned from this: They could have all the food they wanted of the kinds available, but nothing of those that weren't. Also, they don't qualify for government assistance because on paper, they make too much money. But it all goes to medical bills. They don't qualify to have those covered, either, because they make too much. I suspect there is a certain population (I don't have numbers) who fall into this no-man's land. Sometimes it's women whose husbands control the money and won't give them enough to live on. Other times it's people who are "illegal" immigrants who are in hiding. And then the medical stuff which can also hurt people who have disabled children or relatives. Also, the working poor who prefer not to take government money and simply live on what they have. I'm sure there are more reasons.

What is good for me is to remember that my quick judgments are done from a place of wealth and privilege. Yeah, we work hard for what we have, but we also had parents who sacrificed to make sure that we got educations so we would eventually be able to have good lives. And we were born into full health. I am frustrated sometimes with food stamps because I have seen people buy things I consider luxuries that I couldn't afford. I have seen people living on welfare who have nicer TVs and couches than I did at the time. On the other hand, you don't always make good choices under stress. Poor people get fat because bad food is cheaper. White bread is cheaper than wheat. Fatty meat is cheaper than good cuts. Vegetables and fruits fresh are prohibitively expensive. School lunch, which is free for many of the poor, is crappy, unhealthy food. And even our budget of $200 for school supplies would realistically be impossible in most poor situations. There's just not any movement for the budget in seasonal situations.

Another thing I have learned: There is no way that a family of 7 (4 of them teens) could survive on $250 a month. Impossible, even on the cheapest food. We are using what we have on hand, but that's been accumulating for years. No wonder there are school lunch programs in the summer. I see why you'd send kids out to preserve the money for dinner. I can see why sometimes parents might hoard something special for themselves. And why treats are a necessity in some situations. You have to have something to look forward to.

Monday Book Recs--Old and New and Dr. Who

Dead Air by James Goss

This is an audio book with the feel of an old-fashioned radio play. I absolutely loved it! I've read a few Dr. Who novelizations and they all pale in comparison to the TV series. But this one is its own unique thing. I love David Tennant, of course. But the story itself is fun. It's about aliens who take over the voices of others, and there is a twist at the end.

Battle Hymn of the Tiger Mother by Amy Chua

I read this for my local book club. What I had read of it in the newspaper did not lead me to think I would like it. My own personal philosophy on parenting is that parents need to drastically reduce their pressure on kids to do what the parents want, and need to focus instead of figuring out what the kids want to do. I'd be happy to put my kids up against Amy Chua's any idea and see which ones are more competent, functional adults and which ones get more scholarships to Harvard or Julliard. But the memoir itself is very nuanced and there is a tone of self-mockery about it that I liked very much. Even though I like to think of myself as a loosey-goosey kind of parent, there are actually some really strict rules and expectations at my house. My kids have been told since they were small that we would not be paying for college, so if they want to go, they'd better expect to get scholarships. They are all capable of getting full-ride scholarships just about anywhere. Or if not, they can work through college. My husband and I did that, too. There are times when I have been too hard on my kids and times when I have just done absolutely the wrong thing. I like Chua's painful honest exposure of herself. You will be surprised by this book.

A Dance for Emilia by Peter S. Beagle

My sister, who is an artist, suggested this story to me. She said that it captured for her the painful feeling of not being adequate in her chosen art, but the decision to continue to work in it anyway. I think she is absolutely right, with the added fun of an animal/human crossbreed which interests me every time. I know this isn't a new book, but it was a new read for me, and maybe for you, too.

Ingathering by Zenna Henderson

This one was recommended by my editor, who thought one of the books I was working on had the same flavor. I hope that my books are still as readable in forty years as these were. They're small stories in the best sense, stories about people who don't matter or who seem like they don't matter. Not kings or queen or soldiers or presidents, but school teachers and doctors and kids. A lot of kids. They are from another planet and they must learn how to use the small magical power they have here, but use it secretly. But they also have to find each other, find the people who are like them, which is a great code for what we all are trying to do, find our tribe.

Friday Tri: Consistency

A friend asked me recently what my secret is to getting through tough races and winning. The context was "effort." I had to think for a minute, but my answer turned out to be that I thought the question was wrong. It isn't my effort on the race that matters. It's my effort on all of the other days before the race that matters.

For a long time, as a swimmer in high school I had this idea that when race day came I would suddenly get faster. I'd taper and the adrenaline of the race situation would push me past all the time barriers I had ever experienced. It was disappointing to realize that this was NEVER EVER true. I was never faster at a race than I was in practice. I was exactly the same. When I started racing again as an adult, I found the same sort of hints in the information I was given about triathlon. But it isn't true for me. It may be true for other people. I don't know.

Adrenaline in a race situation can push me for about, oh, ten seconds. And it's often bad. That is, I apply it at the wrong time. Too early in the race for the line, or in the middle of the bike, when I shouldn't be letting my heart rate drift that high no matter how badly I want to pass that person. I can push myself all out for about the last ten seconds of a race with the help of someone I really want to beat. That's about it. If you're in a ten second race, I suppose that works well, but I never am and even when I pretend I'm racing for those last ten seconds, I have never ended up caring because that person is never in the same race with me. (different age group)

The reality for me is that I taper because then I can be sure that I will perform at about the same level as my best workouts. Maybe I don't taper well enough. Maybe I don't handle nerves in race situations as well as truly elite athletes. But I've stopped trying to wish that I was different and have accepted the way that I really am. I don't race faster than I train. So a race isn't really any more or less difficult in terms of effort than a hard workout. I don't do hard workouts every day. Honestly, I only do a hard workout once a week in my hardest crunch time. More often, it's once every other week or every three weeks.

I am convinced that I am successful at triathlon because I am consistent at my training. And I don't mean that I never take rests. I do take rests. At my agent's client retreat last week, I didn't run, bike, or swim for four days. I just did some nice long walks with friends where we chatted together. It was lovely. I had planned in a few easy days, and that was what I did.

What I didn't do: Tell myself that it was OK to do nothing at all for four days because I was on vacation or working. What else I didn't do: stay up late and chat with friends when I knew I had to be sleeping. This is simply the reality of being a serious-ish triathlete. I have always had this kind of focus, and have applied it alternately to getting a PhD at age 24, getting published, and now to triathlons. It has worked to one degree or another for all of those efforts.

I remember when I was in grad school, we had a group of students studying for the oral exams. (And also the written ones, but we didn't do that together) The other students kept trying to get me to show up to midnight study sessions the last few weeks, to "cram" the information. I gently refused. I privately thought it was ridiculous. I don't think many people study well through a sleepless night and I knew I didn't. I felt that the preparation I had made in all the years and months leading up to the exam would have to be enough to carry me through. In the end, I think I may actually have ended up with a lower grade on the exam than they did, but I passed without question.

With writing, the same thing worked for me. I am not convinced that I am actually the most talented writer in some of the groups I have been in. In fact, it still pains me to think of a couple of friends of mine who I think were better writers but who didn't persist. I also didn't write for hours on end because I didn't have the time for it with little kids to care for. I wrote for two hours every day and then I was done, but I wrote every day. I often wrote on Christmas Day, because the kids were napping and that was my writing time.

I've trained a few people recently, and I still think consistency is the thing that messes them up when they struggle. That and frustration that they aren't getting better faster. That's what does it when we try to diet, too. We want our sacrifices now to have drastic consequences, but they take a long time. I think most people are better off making tiny, incremental changes they know they can sustain long-term than big showy ones that they can't. If you want to start having an exercise routine, don't imagine you will be running every day. Set a smaller goal, like at least to walk two miles a day. Then on the days you aren't feeling great, there is no excuse that it's too hard that day. You can still do it. And on days you feel better, you can do more.

I succeed at triathlon because I haven't given up. That's the same reason I'm a published writer and the friends who are better writers than I am aren't.

Thursday Quotes: The Guernsey Literary and Potato Peel Society

It is unseemly to get married so quickly? I don't want to wait--I want to begin at once. All my life I thought that the story was over when the hero and heroine were safely engaged--after all, what's good enough for Jane Austen ought to be good enough for anyone. But it's a lie. The story is about to begin and every day will be a new piece of the plot. Perhaps my next book will be about a fascinating married couple and all the things they learn about one another over time. Are you impressed by the beneficial effect of engagement on my writing?