
A couple of years ago, I worked with a writing coach1 on some fiction I was working on at the time, who shared with me a lesson about storytelling that has stayed with me ever since.
After going over a draft I’d written, he walked me through it as a fresh reader would, pointing out how I was falling victim to a common temptation of many beginning writers without even realizing it.
Even though I couldn’t see my mistake at first, with his help I did — I was jumping with both feet into my story right from the start, plunging the reader into the action and propelling them through the plot as quickly as possible.
When I wrote, I had all the details running through my head, and felt a drive to get them onto the page as quickly as possible — so, as fast as I could type, I tried to get them all down before I lost them.
Why do new writers do that, you might ask? As Seth told me, it’s because we all share the same fear: that if we don’t, the reader will become bored and give up on our story before it’s even begun.
Instead, he said, what you want to do is slow down your story and stay in the moment for longer than you think you need to, because the reader needs time to absorb the feeling you’re trying to capture. Only when you give a story space to breathe can the reader can feel what you’re trying to convey.
Notice, he added, what big-time novelists do on the page. Really pay attention, he said. Look at how they construct their scenes, how they slow down the action so you can feel as if you’re there, in the room with the characters, seeing what they’re seeing. Feeling what they’re feeling.
It’s not rushing ahead, burning through your plot in sentence after sentence that connects with readers, he explained — it’s slowing down, being in the moment and taking your time that connects.
So, in that spirit, there’s something I’ve been thinking of for a while now, but have never gotten around to actually doing — and so I’d like to do it now.
What’s that, you ask? (See how I slowed it down there? 😉)
Your stories. That’s what I’d like to hear. You’ve heard so many of mine over the years — and yes, you’ve had a chance to share yours in the comments of my posts and our Friday threads, which I love — but I’d like the chance to dig a little deeper, and hear more from you.
I’d love to hear your stories of how running (or exercise in general) has helped you get to a different place in your life. I’d like to hear where you started, what your life was like before you committed to a healthier version of yourself, and the challenges you were dealing with.
I want to know what your journey was like, where it took you, and where you are now with it. We’ve gotten a start with something like this over the past couple of years — with this Q-and-A with
, and this interview with — but I’d like to expand on this idea and do both written and maybe even audio interviews with you, if you’re interested in participating.And if you’re like me, you may think: surely he doesn’t mean me. There’s nothing interesting in my story, right?
Nonsense.
Every single one of us has something interesting to say, something fascinating to share with the world, some story to tell — and I want to hear yours.
I’ll never forget, when I was a freelance magazine writer years ago, I once got an assignment to find stories of as many U.S. war veterans as I could, as my editor wanted a story with a veteran from every conflict we’d been involved in — World War II, Korea, Vietnam, Afghanistan and Iraq.
She suggested I go visit a Veterans of Foreign Wars hall just outside Atlanta where I live, as there’ll be plenty of people there to talk to. So I went, thinking of course that because I’m not a veteran, none of them would give me the time of day.
I was never more wrong in my life.
They were completely open and more than happy to talk; I remember interviewing about a dozen men that night, each of whom told me stories filled with laughter and sadness and melancholy, sometimes all at the same time.
That experience taught me something really interesting — and (a little) counter-intuitive: that we don’t really want to hide what we’re about, the stories that each of us has to share. In fact, we’re dying to tell them, if only someone will listen.
So, to sum up, I’d love to hear yours — your experience with running, your journey with your health, the things you’ve learned, the epiphanies you’ve had, the things you’ve discovered. If you’re willing to tell me them, I’ll share them here in this space that we’ve created together, as I know that we’d all love to learn from what you’ve found.
Interested? I hope so.
All you need to do is reach out to me, either in the comments below or in a reply back to this email — after that, we can schedule a time to talk, or I can send you a list of questions and you can write me back your answers.
In the meantime, I hope you’ve had a great week so far and have gotten some great running in — as always, keep in touch and let me know how your running/life is going.
Your friend,
— Terrell
His name is
and he’s fantastic. If you’re looking for someone to help you with your writing, you can find him here.
Hi Terrell, In 2002, when i was one week out from running my first marathon, I was involved in a serious car accident that left me in a coma and with broken bones, a collapsed lung, a strained knee, and a traumatic brain injury. One year later, I ran that marathon. But it wasn't the running that changed my life. It was a new mindset.
If you're interested, I'd be happy to share more.
I love telling stories, and especially my running story. Very glad to talk more! And thank you for doing this.
I like to say that I *hate* exercise! But I love running. I'm just lucky it's healthy :).
Running has always seemed to have more to do with my spiritual life than with my physical fitness. So much so that I'm working on something right now called 'a gym for your soul'.
and I've always just known I was a runner. It took me a long time to run consistently because I had to work through all the ways I didn't actually believe I was an athlete, or a 'good' runner. But putting one foot in front of the other, over and over again, has always just had a way of releasing something inside me. It brings me joy.
Some things can only be learned between my shoes and the road.