Scrolling through my previous blog posts, I was certain that I had written about the book I have been working for the last couple of years. Looks like I haven't or maybe I just mentioned it in passing. Anyway, now that IRONMAN California is complete and CIM 2022 is done, I have the rest of the year to focus on my writing project. Yes, I realize that this blog post is another stall tactic on my part, but I'm hoping it will put me in the right frame of mind for editing my first draft.
In a nutshell, the story is about a middle aged woman who had lived vicariously through her son's impressive swimming career. She is thrown into a depression when he decides he is done with swimming. Through a series of events, she gets involved in triathlons and is hooked. She naively sets her goal on racing at the World Championships in Kona before realizing the physical requirements and perseverance required. Eventually she learns to feel pride in her own accomplishments regardless of the event involved.
Somewhat autobiographical? Maybe ;-)
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| Working through my printed first draft |
Story Stats
- Draft: First
- Word Count: 82,000+
- Scenes Written: 66
- Scenes Edited: 4
- Writing Software: Scrivener
- Confidence Level: -100
"Tara leaned back into the brown leather couch and pulled the colorful fleece blanket higher up on her lap in an attempt to hide her uncomfortableness. The elastic band on her sweatpants felt tighter than ever and though she tried to convince herself that they must have shrunk in the wash she knew that the polyester pants were roughly the same size they were when she bought them years ago at her heaviest weight.A single brown leaf drifted down from the massive Valley oak tree and landed gracefully on the wine barrel chair. The warm summer mornings had given way to chillier air and changing colors. The shorter days seemed to drag on longer than their summer counterparts.
This had become a regular weekend pattern for her with no swim meets distract her. Mason was away at school enjoying the first semester of his freshman year and Mark was off golfing with his buddies. Tara had plenty of tasks she wanted to get done around the house, but she just couldn’t bring herself to start a single project. The scrapbook of Mason’s senior year had only empty pages. The kit she bought so she could prep meals and hopefully lose a bit of weight sat unopened in the cardboard box it was shipped in. She had planned to clean the grout in the guest bath and refinish the wine barrel chairs that sat dusty and unused on the back patio. So many worthwhile projects that could easily take her mind of her boredom but zero motivation to start a single one.
An image of the pantry contents flashed through her mind. There was an opened bag of jalapeno kettle chips begging her to get up off the couch. The spicy treat had a much stronger pull than her willpower and within a few minutes she found herself grabbing the bag off the shelf and then standing in front of the open fridge looking for a diet soda to chase it with. She found a lone can of Coke Zero hidden in the corner. She grabbed it and for an instance gave herself the option to put everything back and make a healthy choice. She turned on her heel before the idea became too shameful and headed back to the couch.
The cushion made a soft whoosh as she plopped back into her favorite corner of the couch. She covered herself with the blanket again and unrolled the bag of chips. With the opening wide enough to get her hand into it, she set it off to the side and grabbed the remote. Saturday afternoons were not a great day for TV watching so she spent several minutes clicking past commercials and paid programming designed to trick you into watching what appeared to be a TV program. Commercial. Click. Commercial. Click. News. Click. Commercial. Click. Hundreds of swimmers bobbing in the ocean. Wait.
The sight of all of the capped heads caught her attention. The camera cut to an underwater shot of the swimmers. At the bottom of the screen was the beautiful bright blue of the pacific ocean. It looked as if the legs were dangling in a Blue Hawaii cocktail almost like human seaweed. The swimmers all wore knee length sleeveless suits with a black band around their ankles. The slow motion filming gave the scene a magical quality as the mass of legs slowly churned the water in an eggbeater pattern. The camera cut back to an overhead shot and then focused on a cannon. Boom! The cannon fired as a puff of smoke shot out as the sun could still be seen rising up in the east.
The horde of hundreds if not thousands of swimmers started moving forward. An unsynchronized mass of arms and legs moving across the top of the water. Tara remembered their family trip to Hawaii a few years ago. The water temperature was magical, nothing like the chilly ocean she was used to visiting.
The announcer came on and started talking about the swim portion and explaining the distances involved in this race, the IRONMAN World Championships. Tara sat up a bit straighter and leaned forward as it to get closer to the action. This was the race Jan had told her about. She pressed the “info” button on the remote and saw that the program was scheduled for an hour. She figured she could spend the next sixty minutes or so watching this race. It was better than watching commercials.
The show progressed as it went from showing the professional triathletes and then the age groupers. Race standings were interspersed between race footage with the most beautiful backdrop you could imagine. While the pro race was interesting, the athletes seemed almost super human. There is no way I could do that she thought to herself.
What drew her in and kept her watching was the stories of the regular humans. Some had suffered personal tragedies. Others had tried so often to qualify that they had purchased IRONMAN lottery tickets in an effort to get the chance to race on this world renowned course. The faces on the competitors showed pain and struggle and determination. Some finished before the sun set on the Hawaiian island. Others finished when artificial light had to be turned on to illuminate the finish chute. Heartbreakingly, a few did not make the final cut off at midnight.
As quickly and as inexplicably as her thought to grab the bag of chips, a strong, unexpected desire arose in her heart. She thought “I want to do that race.” Deep down in her soul she felt a yearning to race in the most prestigious IRONMAN in the world even though she had never done a triathlon in her life. The joy on the competitors faces when they crossed the finish line reminded her of how she used to feel watching Mason swim. She longed for that feeling again and would do anything to get it.
“Here comes Tk. This is his third attempt at finishing IRONMAN Kona in the 80 year old group. He’s got less than a minute to cross the finish line before the time cutoff,” the announcer stated in a very serious, hopeful voice.
Tara leaned forward, her pulse quickened. It felt like watching the last two laps of Mason swimming a 500.
“Here he comes,” the announcer continued, the remaining crowd cheered loudly. “It looks like he is going to do it this time. Here he comes. YES! He did it!”
The cameras cut to a close up of the 83 year old competitor, exhausted but beaming. Mike Reilly could be heard over the event loudspeakers “Tk You. Are. An. IRONMAN.” The remaining, late night crowd cheered wildly.
Tk bent over in exhaustions and finally straightened as a grey haired woman ran to him him and wrapped her arms around him, tears streaming down both of their faces.
Tara finished watching the remaining moments of the program and wiped her cheek. She had never felt a desire like this and the feeling was strange. Everything she had ever wanted to do involved watching someone else do it. She felt lighter for a moment as the happiness of feeling like she had a purpose lifted up from her doldrums. The credits rolled and she grabbed the remote and started channel surfing again before nodding off."
Constructive Criticism Welcome
I am not sharing this snippet of writing in order to get any kind of false praise. I am also not sharing it so people can rip it apart just for sport. I am looking for honest feedback. If something I wrote is unclear or doesn't make sense, please reply below in the comments. For now, I'm going to get back to editing.
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