September 9, 2007 • Print This Post

“I believe that we learn by practice. Whether it means to learn to dance by practicing dancing or to learn to live by practicing living, the principles are the same. In each, it is the performance of a dedicated precise set of acts, physical or intellectual, from which comes shape of achievement, a sense of one’s being, a satisfaction of spirit. One becomes, in some area, an athlete of God. Practice means to perform, over and over again in the face of all obstacles, some act of vision, of faith, of desire. Practice is a means of inviting the perfection desired.”
~ Martha Graham

I ran across that quote when flipping through and old O Magazine this week. I pulled out two ads as I’m using the models as character pics, and I tore out that bit of inspiration from Martha Graham as well. It truly made me stop and think, to wonder how often we rightfully consider our daily pages, our unsold manuscripts, as practice. How often, instead, we think of all that work as something we must get right and if we don’t, that we must give up, that we don’t have it in us, that we’ll never perfect our craft.

Read again what Graham says: The performance of a dedicated precise set of acts, physical or intellectual, from which comes shape of achievement, a sense of one’s being, a satisfaction of spirit.

We take our children to practice. Football, gymnastics, soccer, dance. We practice yoga for our physical and mental health. Meditation, too. At one point, we were required to practice penmanship in school. We practice speeches or lectures we’ve been tapped (or volunteered) to give.

We do these things over and over because we know that practice makes perfect. That the more we work at a task, the closer we’ll get to the perfection desired. So why is it often so hard to apply that same principle to our writing, to have the patience and dedication to practice?

Was the first loaf of bread we baked perfect? The first cake we frosted, the first meatloaf for which we meticulously measured ingredients? Our first, second, or even third effort at flower arranging or growing vegetables or sewing clothes we weren’t embarrassed to wear? Didn’t we practice to get better, and keep working toward perfection, inviting it?

Read again what Graham says: Practice means to perform, over and over again in the face of all obstacles, some act of visions, of faith, of desire.

I’ve talked more than once about obstacles, excuses, reasons we give ourselves and others for not sticking to a schedule or a project. I’m the world’s worst about not doing so, about doing something else because it’s not so hard, or because of the instant gratification. There is no instant gratification in writing except seeing the page count rise.

HelenKay mentioned on her blog that writing is a marathon, not a sprint. And marathoners, yeah, they practice. They run when there’s no finish line to cross. They run when their only competition comes from within. They run when conditions are uncomfortable, in the heat, the rain, practicing for the race that will require them to be as ready, as perfect, as they can.

What about you? Are you performing again and again in the face of all obstacles? Are you gaining shape of achievement, a sense of one’s being, a satisfaction of spirit? Of course you are! You’re practicing, page after page after page! You are inviting the perfection desired. How do I know?

Because for weeks now I’ve watched you share your rising word count, listened to you talk about the problems you’ve had and how you’ve performed. Whether or not you reach your goal, you’re practicing. You’re inviting the perfection desired. And that makes you a champion.

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