Golf???
At the end of a book, I write pretty much around the clock. Oh, I take time to eat, exercise (minimally), sleep (less and less) and shower. That’s about it except for an occasional phone call or email. I’ve usually worked it so that my family is out of the picture the last week that I’m putting the book together. My sons are grown, they take the dogs and deal with other family members, errands, whatever.
This “alone time” allows me to really submerge into the book without distraction. I love it. When I write an emotional scene, I can just let go . . . to a point.
Yesterday I worked on a very tense murder scene. Hours upon hours of writing, rewriting and living the horror. Trying to build the suspense, give some character insight, hinge the scene to the others in the book. It took all day and when I was done and satisfied with the scene, I was tense–knotted up emotionally. I had to wash my hands of that scene and completely let it go.
So what did I do?
I found an ancient and crappy putter in the garage, and three equally used and abused golf balls left at my house by one of my friends, and I walked to the local golf course and putted.
Big deal, you say. But I’m telling you it is. I DO NOT golf. In fact, I grew up a quasi golf orphan and became a golf widow….no, strike that. I was what is termed a golf widow, but I really became a golf divorcee. As such, I’ve never been a fan. The first 46 years of my life I listened to the hushed tones of the television as the latest tourney was cast over the air waves. I’ve dusted over tapes of famous rounds. I’ve watched my ex-husband mesmerized by some golf guru. I’ve seen my father, debilitated by Parkinson’s Disease, try to swing a club in the back yard. I’ve even attempted the game myself and saw no use for hitting the ball into such a tiny hole . . . it just takes too much time. The only reason I was on the course at all was because I wanted to be with my friends who, traitors that they are, took up the sport about ten years ago!
Love the sport? I think not. The last time I used a club it was a five iron from a set my ex had left my son—I used it to chip away at a three-inch layer of ice on the driveway during and ice and snow storm in December. Uh…the club doesn’t look too great now. Both my son and ex nearly dropped through said driveway when they saw the damage.
Anyway, so why in the world would I take up the putter and icky balls?
Because I had to get as far away from the tension and grit of the murder scene as I could. I literally drove myself to golf. Now, usually, when I’m trying to shed the tension I’ve created, I take a walk, take the dogs to a park, play a game of solitaire, do a cross-word puzzle, find a friend and yak on the phone or go to dinner . . . but yesterday it took the lure of something totally out of my realm to kick me out of the scene.
Did it work?
You bet.
Will I take up the sport?
Ha! I don’t think so.
And yet . . . maybe the sport does have therapeutic purpose after all. This morning, I’m ready to get back at it! (Writing, of course, not golf.)
Lisa Jackson
http://www.lisajackson.com
http://www.twitter.com/readlisajackson
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Lisa, my husband loves it, too–in moderation–although I’m familiar with the hushed tones you describe coming from the livingroom, and I’m a “golf widow” roughly one day a week during the summer. Where we live, though (Alaska), golf is only an option for three or four months out of the year, so I can be pretty flexible for that long.
I don’t really get the attraction, either, though–I usually end up MORE tense after attempting to play than I was to begin with!
If it drove you to golf, the murder scene must be really intense. I’m looking forward to reading it!
Gee — all I did when I finished my first manuscript and was totally drained was to take a bubble bath and have a glass of wine. Of course, we don’t have any golf clubs–the hubster is NOT a sports person. He goes to spin classes at the Y. Sleeps during football games on tv.
Golf is not my thing, either, as I discovered years ago. But I agree with you on the putting! I will go along with my dh to the local course and often beat him at his own game.