Writing by Rivers--and thoughts on Rudisha versus Bolt

My youngest throwing stones into Railroad Creek

I have had quite the splendid last month. First, I got to go to one of my favorite places for vacation--Holden Village--and was freed from all the hurlyburly of modern life. Heck, at Holden you can't even get a cellphone signal! Then, I catapulted back into the thick of things with my own personal Olympic marathon, staying up almost every night until midnight for the past two weeks. Talk about a schizophrenic experience.

In the Washington Cascades, dwarved by mountain peaks, I sat writing for three hours each morning. My usual writing spot was beside the fast-flowing Railroad Creek, its waters icy with snow melt. There is something about writing by rivers. Perhaps it's a variant of feng shui, but ideas cascaded about me. (I even got an idea for an adult mystery to go with the YA I'm currently working on.) When I write at home, writing always competes with running a household, making sure the kids are on track for their various activities, and planning meals. (And meals, and yet more meals!) One of the liberating things about Holden was having three meals a day cooked for me. It freed up my creative energies for actual creation.

Then, back we came to the Olympics. We missed the Queen parachuting into the stadium, as we were still out of media range. But we have sat through two weeks of sporting endeavors and personal narratives, watching as old stars continue their successes (Michael Phelps) and new stars come alive (Missy Franklin and Gabby Douglas.)

I marveled at the perseverance of these athletes. The Olympics occur only every four years. Many of them try and try--I'm thinking of Allyson Felix here, who won silver medals at two previous Olympics and finally won her gold in the 200m.

I also found myself facing a realization that glitzy self-promotion turns me off. Usain Bolt is undoubtedly talented, but his blowing of his own trumpet is tiresome. I found myself comparing him to David Rudisha, the soft-spoken Masai who destroyed the world record in winning the 800 meters.

It's not that I believe that Rudisha is without ego, but he did not overuse the Boltian phrase "living legend." Instead, as quoted in The Washington Post, he dedicated his victory to his father:

(Rudisha) said he was inspired by the massive crowd in London, but dedicated the record to somebody watching on TV from another continent — his father, Daniel Rudisha, who anchored Kenya to a silver medal in the 4x400 relay at the 1968 Olympics at Mexico.

“I know he’s always proud of me, he’s the one who encourages me to come this far,” he said. “He’s a big inspiration in my career.

“I wanted to go a step ahead. To break the world record is a big achievement. He wanted to do it in the 400 but he couldn’t do it. So, for his son to do it ... "

Finally, if you want to read about how watching the Olympics devolved into a mouse chase, read this blog post by one of my favorite writers, Beth Kephart. I truly believe that Beth cannot write a dull sentence. (And I'm glad to know that she too is an Olympic fan.)

Now, the workaday world beckons. I want to finish my first draft before the end of the year, so wish me luck as I train for my own "gold medal."

This Is Not The Sort of Dangerous Writing I Meant

Apparently, the writing life is hazardous to your health. According to an article I read a while back in The Washington Post, sitting for 11 hours a day or more for people aged 45 or older (that would be ME!)  led to an increased risk of death (from all causes) by about 40 percent over four years, compared to the risk of death in people who sat just four to eight hours a day, the study found.

I'm a champion sitter. I sit to write, blog, tweet, Facebook, write more, read, eat, watch tennis, watch the Olympics, and write still more. Speaking of the Olympics, I'm sure I'd make the U.S. Olympic team for synchronized sitting.

What to do? I guess I'll have to read on a treadmill, eat on my feet, and actually play tennis instead of practicing my armchair backhand. But all this alarum over sitting has gotten me into such a tizzy that I'm decamping on vacation for two weeks. I'll be headed to Holden Village, high in the Washington State Cascades. There won't be blogs and tweets there--and I may very well get in a bit of hiking.

But keep my seat warm for my Olympic debut, won't you? See you next month!

I'M BACK!!

Yesterday, several very nice readers (DanPloy, Anita, and Chris Phillips) left comments on my blogs to the effect of wondering whether I was back and whether I needed a vacation after a vacation. (Thanks for missing me, guys!)

Yup, that's precisely how I feel. Even though I was really truly away from it all in the mountains of the high Cascades, with food aplenty and no need to scratch my head every evening, trying to figure out what to cook.

The place, in Washington State, is called Holden Village. It is inaccessible by road. (You have to take a boat up Lake Chelan and then a 40 minute bus ride up a series of switch backs to the village itself.)

"Our" boat: Lady of the Lake

There is no wireless internet, no cell phone service, no TV reception. The village is ringed by mountain peaks, many of them still snow-capped in late July.

Dining Hall, with one of the mountains behind

It's the sort of place where kids, unplugged, play card games into the night. We didn't see our 14-year-old pretty much all day long. The 8-year-old organized a kid's production of Hansel and Gretel. The 4-year-old spent the morning hours in the children's program called Narnia. Which meant that I had three hours every morning to write.

I wrote long-hand by the banks of the raging river. There's something about being near flowing water: ideas flow also. I have several new ideas; all I need is the time to pursue them. And something else about being away from "civilization": I was writing because I love to write, not getting twisted up inside wondering if I'll ever be published.

Re-entry is always difficult. Living for a week with 300 other people in an isolated mountain village, people smile and talk and don't incessantly check their smart phones. Back in the "real world" people frown and ignore and stare at screens. Cars move too quickly. Children disappear into their iDevices.

I guess I'll get used to it again before too long. But if any of you want to send me someone to cook all my daily meals, I'll be much obliged.

(I'm also attending the Willamette Writers' Conference today, pitching to a couple of agents. Positive thoughts would be much appreciated!)