Do You Know What You’re Capable Of?
By Jane Friedman | November 28, 2016 |
When I first started running more than 20 years ago, I was slow and couldn’t last for more than 5 or 10 minutes without taking walk breaks. I more or less kept at the same pattern (and same trail) day after day, not expecting much of myself. I didn’t feel like a runner, but I had the strange idea I should try anyway.
One day I completed the little trail loop without stopping to walk. It crossed my mind: What if I tried going around a second time? I did, without needing to walk. I felt a bit more like a runner that day.
I reflect on that moment often, because of the feeling of genuine surprise. It’s a reminder that we don’t always know what we’re capable of until we ask it of ourselves—or have no choice.
For some, this is what the spirit of NaNoWriMo (National Novel Writing Month) is all about. What can I accomplish if I push myself? What could I do if I put my mind to it? It’s such a human impulse as to be a cliche, yet when we break through a barrier that we thought impossible or beyond our capability, the world and its challenges look very different on the other side.
Last year, I took on one of the most significant writing projects of my career, which required that I produce roughly 120,000 words in three months. I agreed to do it before I really thought through the math of what I needed to accomplish: 10,000 polished words per week on top of my usual work load. But I did it, on deadline, and no writing project has since felt the same. I’m trained differently now—I am trained to go around the loop twice without stopping—and in the end it really wasn’t that bad.
Such challenges don’t always have a happy ending, and that’s the rub. It’s hard to know where the line is between testing your limits in a way that strengthens you, and pushing past them in a way that causes long-term damage. When I first began accepting freelance assignments early in my career, I regularly missed my deadlines and had to ask for extensions. Because I felt so embarrassed, I stopped freelancing for more than 10 years. Mainly I failed at these early tasks because I had no discernible practice or system in place—no kind of discipline that helped direct how such work would get done. Eventually I developed the right habits to allow me to succeed later, but it took years of gathering up the nerve and trust in my own abilities.
A challenge like NaNoWriMo—or any informal challenge that you might set for yourself—is that it gives you the space to figure out how you’ll develop the habit or discipline of showing up, day after day, to get the work done. You get accustomed to your own methods of avoidance and self-doubt; you learn to deal with the voice in your head that says your ideas are dumb or that your writing is bad. You learn to just get on with the work, and put in the miles, regardless of what’s happening around you, and before you know it, it’s been two loops around the trail.
Tell us about a time you surprised yourself about what you could accomplish. What have you learned about your limits?
Jane Friedman has more than 20 years in the publishing industry, with expertise in digital media and the future of authorship. She’s the co-founder and editor of The Hot Sheet, the essential industry newsletter for authors. You can find out more about her consulting services and online classes at her website, JaneFriedman.com.
I had the same experience with running and with writing. When I started running 20 years ago, I would go one-quarter mile on a one-mile trail and then stop and walk. One day I just kept running and finished the trail. I did one mile without getting winded. Soon, I was up to two miles. With writing, I did NaNoWriMo for the first time in 2011. I didn’t expect to complete 50,000 words, but I did it. I “won” two more times. I had to push myself to find out my limits The lesson learned for writers is that if you don’t push yourself, you’ll never learn what you can really do. Thanks for a great post, Jane.
When I published Pride’s Children after working on it for fifteen years.
I don’t know what kept me going, but actually completing something that takes that long because you won’t lower your standards is something for people like me who have lost everything else they had planned to accomplish in life. It meant: “You can do this, even if you have to work on microscopic pieces of the puzzle at a time.”
I knew I was stubborn…
When my sister nicely bullied me into signing up for a 5k to benefit a high school friend’s very personal charity, I hadn’t run — really run — since ninth grade track. And I’d never been a distance runner. My only goal, because I knew I’d see people I knew from childhood there, was to be able to run it without walking so I wouldn’t be completely embarrassed. And then I had the same experience of surprise that you did, that I could actually train myself into it.
But I also had the experience of having created a great habit — regular exercise — only to lose it. Once the 5k was over and I had no real goal, I “took a day off.” That was so stupid. I never got back into the regular habit of running. That was 4 years ago, and I’ve tried a couple times to get back into it, but it hasn’t stuck.
In writing, thus far, a goal hasn’t been a problem because I have an ever-lengthening list of books I want to write and an ever-shortening amount of time in which to write them. But I know a number of people for whom just getting “a” book published was the goal, and when it comes time to write that second book they find themselves stuck.
One of the unforeseen benefits of years of rejection, for me, has been time to keep writing the next project and the next. I hope that when the time finally comes for a second book, it will already be written, waiting in the wings for its time to shine.
Erin, you raise a good point regarding getting stuck at the second book. Sometimes I think people get so focused on a particular goal that they forget to plan for what comes afterward. These days, I focus less on goals and more on my day-to-day habits, both in my writing and my running. I figure that if I stick to good habits, the goals will take care of themselves (if I even have goals, which often I don’t anymore). Either way, the work gets done.
Running actually taught me this lesson because I had to find a way to stay motivated after running a few half marathons. It was easy to motivate myself while training for my first half marathon because, well, it was my first. I also stayed motivated for the second one because now I had a time to beat. But there came a point when I couldn’t realistically get any faster (hooray, aging) and I didn’t want to run longer, so I had to find value in the act of running itself. I now have 35 half marathons under my belt and counting.
Same thing with writing. I’ve gone through enough ups and downs over the years to know that strict writing goals don’t work for me anymore. I now focus on pushing myself *today*. How much and how well can I write *today*? What little thing can I do to make myself uncomfortable? I may not know where all of those steps will lead, but I consider that part of the fun.
I too have found that experience with a physical challenge has helped me in my approach to writing. This year I ran the Edinburgh half-marathon. When, I say ‘ran’, I mean jogged/walked/staggered to get myself to the finish line. It taught me a lot about keeping on, no matter what, and I think that can be applied to anything we want to achieve.
Great article.
I walk almost every day and have for years. I have taken dance classes and yoga classes and the beginnings of those always present a challenge. But writing, it is just where I want to be. For ten years, after my daughters were on their way and my son was in elementary and high school, I wrote almost every day. I wrote three novels. Now I am rewriting and learning how to sculpt that work into books that others will want to read. Now it’s more of a challenge as I’ve had my share of rejection. The salad days of pure writing have passed–but I am so in love with writing that I’m either at my desk every day or writing ideas on the backs of newspaper articles and various notes. That’s my life. I’m in it to meet the challenge. And I think I’m capable of getting to the finish line. Thanks.
For me it was taking on the challenge of ghostwriting the life story of a noted neurosurgeon 4 years ago. The opportunity allowed me to ditch my day job directing a college program and learning center. I had no idea how much time I would really need, but prepared a skeleton framework to allow for 60,000 to 80,000 words in a year, (which I far surpassed with the first draft). Of course the end product was much different–in fact it turned into two books over 4 years, the second one a commercial medical memoir–but it forced me to plant myself in my seat and churn out material at a regular rate. As with physical fitness, it always comes down to discipline and reward. But as you point out, it is a matter of stretching yourself and committing to the challenge. Now I need to repeat the feat for my own projects.
At the beginning of April 2012 & then again nearly a year later, I was in two separate and unrelated accidents that left me unable to work a regular job. Perfect time to try freelancing and an entrepreneurial venture…not so fast.
Fast forward the years of recovery to this September. Although I’m not fully recovered, I’m hoping that I have made enough progress to rekindle the dreams that were cut short 3 years ago.
Starting in September to creep back online, take some courses, test the waters, rekindle old relationships so that maybe I’ll be able to have enough process in place to do client work on a part time basis in January.
My fears? The very ones you wrote about, Jane. I don’t want to promise more than I’m capable of delivering. I want quite the opposite, under commit and over deliver.
Always a pleasure to hear others struggling with the same issues.
Jane, I love the sense of surprise you noted when you push some boundaries, and voila! establish new ones. My girlfriend and I fantasized about house-sitting for stretches of time in interesting places but thought, no, what will we do with our house, how will we work, who will take care of the cat, make sure bills are paid, etc.
But we pushed and tried it for a couple of months in Panama. Everyone survived. Since then, stretches in the Bahamas, Mexico, and just finished a second one in Hawaii. New boundaries (and many new travel writing publications)! There are always complications, of course, but we’ll do it again because we know we can.
Now if I could just slap myself upside the head and get rid of all my paranoias, the false starts and the “who do you think you are” imposter syndrome about my fiction…
Jane–thanks for your post on setting goals and pushing hard for them. In this regard, sports analogies can serve a useful purpose–“feel the burn,” “no pain, no gain,” etc.
But just now your post might be better thought of in terms of overcoming the numbing, paralysis-inducing pressure of external events. I don’t mean household demands, physical problems, self-doubt, etc. I’m talking about The News. True, it’s easy to slip into the pattern of pointing to depressing social events as a self-deceiving justification for not “getting on with it.” But just now–at least for a liberal like me–the new reality unfolding every day has become a true obstacle as a writer. The political landscape looms so bleakly that to turn away from it and focus on novel-writing seems callous and selfish: my “work” supersedes all else,” etc.
In my view, the only way this gets resolved is by ignoring what’s happening. If I don’t, the bleak prospects make my projects seem laughable. But if I do, it feels shabby. Something of a conundrum.
Jane, what a lovely essay on discovering you have more chops than what you thought you had.
My nature is to plunge into things so I’ve had numerous happy surprises discovering that I didn’t die doing those said things — reciting the Pied Piper of Hamelin at an elocution contest with a horrible stutter (what was I thinking?), driving on the autobahn when the power brakes failed (when I realized, I managed to pull over and cry first, then got back on), telling my editor that I could deliver four feature length articles in 2 weeks (I did too!). Someday I will give Nano a shot.
Encouraging post, Jane, and an inspirational kick in the butt too.
When we lost our house in a devastating fire and had to rebuild, we realized we wouldn’t want to live there with all the bad memories, so built to sell. I’d always loved watching home improvement and design shows and rather than hire someone to choose the finishes I decided to do it myself. I wasn’t sure I’d be any good at it and was afraid I’d mess up but forged ahead anyway and chose everything from custom-built cabinets and wood stains to light fixtures, countertops, flooring, wall colors etc. When the first realtor brought by the first couple to view the house, they sat in the driveway afterward and made their offer on the spot before anyone else had a chance to see it. I was in shock.
If I’m afraid my current WIP is awful and no one will want to read it because I’m such a lousy writer, I remember the house. Now I can also pull out this post to spur me on. Thanks again.
Jane: I had a similar experience with Scrivener For Dummies. It was my first contract and I was eager to please and a bit naive. Signed the contract at the end of February and the full 400 pages–plus screenshots, part blurbs, and cheat sheet–was due end of May. There were some really long days in there where I wondered if I’d made a huge mistake, but I made it on deadline. It definitely changed how I look at what I’m capable of.
I’ve been a lifelong runner, but very casual. I ran my first half marathon in 15 years last year and was faster than the first time. I’m learning that a lot of our limits are self-imposed and sometimes we just need to stretch a little. Thanks!
Hi Jane:
I think every publication event can fit into this category, but the time I actually “surprised” myself concerned something much different: my first wife’s cancer.
You never know how you’re really going to respond to something like that. By and large, I look back at my response, despite a few missteps, as pretty okay. I was fiercely protective, habitually present, resourceful, uncomplaining, and attentive. I did not know these things about myself before I had to step up and just get things done in the worst circumstances imaginable.
Now, that created problems all its own once terri passed away. You can get trapped in our “golden moment.” I actually deal with that in my latest novel.
But on a writing front, that experience taught me I can handle damn near anything.
I’m sure much the same is true for anyone who’s weathered the illness or death of a close loved one. That experience, and surviving the ensuing grief, is one of the most transformative (though unwelcome) experiences anyone can endure.
Anyway, a bit heavy, and something of a bummer. But that was my real endurance run. I made it to the finish line. Sorta.
This is the most inspirational post I’ve read in a long time. And it’s so well timed in my life. Thank you for your story, Jane.
Hi Jane, I also share your experience with finding out your limits with racing, in my case Race Walking. I attended the National Senior Games in Minnesota last year and competed in the Race Walking with 20 guys from 20 states. What a thrill to see what you can do. At age 68, I felt like I was a kid again!
Writing to completion is also like distance swimming: You build it on the base of training regularly. My father’s advice works for me: Write every day but take at least one day off a week. Beforehand, set a minimum number of hours to do it in at a particular time of day. And set a maximum—that’s the part of it we forget. Say, minimum 2 hours but no more than 4 maximum, so that you’re fresh and not spent for the next day’s kick at the can. Even if you’re on a roll, stop at the maximum—write a sentence that sets you up for the next day, then stop. What if the muse doesn’t return the next day? She will. Or you won’t need her because—from the habit of consistently sitting down to do it—your butt hitting the chair triggers flow at the fingertips.
That base of training (writing regularly) will get you through marathon efforts, too. You will hit the wall after a long continuous stretch. Take a walk and jiggle your fingers (tread water), then go back to it for another long stretch. With training supporting you and the will to plow on, you will finish. Like Diana Nyad, who successfully swam the 110 miles continuously from Cuba to Florida on her fifth try, if you hit a snag and fail, find a way to fix that snag then go back and try again. You too are doing something no one has done before—writing this thing, your thing—so of course it seems impossible sometimes. Nyad’s book, Find a Way, is a wonderful reminder that, with the resources you build over time to support the heart within you, nothing is impossible.
Jane, your article turned on a lightbulb over my head. As an author, I’m disciplined enough to make outlines, set long-term goals, and put in the effort to meet my deadlines. While not the speediest writer, I’ve done what I set out to do and it has paid off in the form of an option deal with NBC Universal for my detective series.
But I have never been able to–and hardly have tried, to be honest–to bring that same discipline to working out. While a half-hearted yoga afficionado and swimmer, it has always been a catch-as-catch can effort to stay in shape.
After reading your post and the many comments, the light flashed on. There is a symbiotic relationship between physical exercise and creative energy. I need to apply the same mindset to both. Thanks for the boost today!
I started writing about 40 years ago, so it’s hard for me to surprise myself. But this year, I started NaNo strong. 5000 words on day one, 3000 words on day two. Then real life got in the way and I wrote maybe 100 words a day for two weeks. Then I decided to just give up on that whole deadline thing and just stick to a hundred or so words every morning. But during the last week of NaNo, I finished writing the first draft on my book. Maybe I tricked myself into forgetting the pressure. I do remember when I first “felt the magic happening” in it. Meanwhile, my favorite part of the process remains the self-editing, so I have something to look forward to next year.
I really like the idea of figuring out what works for your specific time/physical limits. I wrote three novels during NaNoWriMo, three years in a row. This year I started my fourth novel prior to NaNoWriMo and know that I need a good six months to write a quality first/idea draft. NaNoWriMo doesn’t work for me anymore, but it got me onto the habit of writing everyday: whether it’s journal-ling, planning, or story-boarding, I’m flexing those story muscles. I was also accepted into the Gold Dust Mentoring scheme and that has helped to push me forward with really making the story in my 4th novel make sense. We’ll see how it all turns out!