What I learned about writing from watching 700 hours of Olympics coverage*

Why it's been so quiet over here on Living the In-between Times

Whew! It’s been quiet over here on Living the In-Between Times! A little on purpose. A little not.

A short break I’d planned turned into a longer break than I intended. Most weeks in July, I sat down to write thinking, “I have to PUBLISH. I need to write a post TODAY.” Then I’d sit down and what would come out was… nada.

I’d type a few incoherent fragments, then get up to do one of the hundred other things in my life that are “also important.” With each week that passed, I wrestled with myself, trying not to beat myself up with thoughts like, “I’m failing.” 

I worried maybe I’d forgotten how to write. Was this writer’s block? Or maybe the ever-elusive “muse” had left me entirely? 

But beneath these worries I heard the whispers of a different message. One that suggested nothing was wrong, that this was a needed break. I reluctantly acknowledged that something was keeping me from publishing. Maybe there would be some wisdom to be gleaned from watching and waiting for that something to become clearer to me. I tried not to sweat it.

Then came the Olympics. The glorious Olympics!

I sat down with my daughter and watched the entire 4-hour spectacle that was the Opening Ceremonies. The flotilla of nations! Lady Gaga’s feathers! The mysterious rooftop torch bandit! The Celine Dion Eiffel Tower goosebumps! Together we drank in every minute of that uber-French extravaganza.

Then I tuned in for two weeks of competition: surfing, artistic swimming, gymnastics, break dancing, men’s basketball, something called equestrian “eventing.” I carried my phone around the house to catch women’s water polo matches and tried to figure out the rules of handball.

When our family vacationed, I volunteered more than once to drive our electric car out to the charger so I could sit and binge 40 more minutes of Olympics on my phone. 

As I watched, I noticed a pattern. Just before an athlete was about to take their final shot, the camera would zoom in on his or her face, bringing into focus every mouth-twitch and eye-dart, as the announcer would quietly murmur, “It’s all down to this moment. If she nails this, she’ll win the gold.” 

At which point, I would think-scream, “Noo! Whatever you do, DON’T think about the medal! DON’T think about the score; don’t think about the time! JUST think about the VERY FIRST thing you need to do! Think about the tiny adjustments your coach always tells you to make. Then, think about the TINY NEXT STEP after that.” 

You see, I believe that athletes who focus on winning medals perform more poorly. 

Try-out the following two thoughts and tell me which one would help you perform your best: 

1. I have to win a gold medal right now. 

2. It’s time to do what I practiced. I’m going to push off, hit the springboard spot-on, and then pike my legs up.
   

One thought is abstract and only creates more pressure. The other is concrete, actionable, and keeps you anchored in the present moment. 

Somewhere around Day 10 of the Olympics, it hit me. Why did I think telling myself, “I HAVE TO publish a newsletter this week!” was going to get me a good result? By putting pressure on myself to “publish” I was making it harder to do the thing I most desired.

The reason you’re reading these words now is because in the last couple of weeks, I stopped “going for the gold” and, instead, took several deep breaths and focused on taking granular, tiny steps:

1. Open the Notes app.

2. Take two more deep breaths.

3. Write three ideas/thoughts that have been floating around my brain.

4. Write 100 words on one idea.

5. Keep going, 50-100 words at a time. Whenever I’m not sure what to write next, reread the last sentence I wrote and ask myself a question about it, then write 25 more words.

Instead of zooming out and getting lost in anxiety over growing my readership, or how to write the Book Proposal of Dreams, watching hundreds of Olympians do their thing reminded me I that only ever need to do one thing: focus on the tiny step I’m on right now.

Like trying to bring this post to a close. Which I am inspired to do by creating some much-needed, perfectionism-ditching notes-to-self.

And in case you missed it, here are some of my latest experiments:

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1. Note: 700 is the number of hours my family would estimate I watched. Actual hours spent watching are still being calculated.