Mood Follows Action

I love running, especially in the cold and especially when it’s early. There are few things more beautiful than sunrise over a lake, mist shrouding the water, webs of frost on the greenway asphalt. The geese are hunkered down, eyeing me with beady suspicion.

Running is now mainstream, not the oddity it used to be. Even so, plenty of people still marvel at the fact that anyone does it at all. Every runner has heard some version of, “I could never get up that early and go out in the cold.”

The misunderstanding seems to be that runners enjoy leaving warm beds, opening the front door, and getting blasted by winter air. Of course not. That part sucks.

But here’s the thing – once you start running, you warm up.

It’s kinda remarkable how I’ll be shrinking from the cold at 5:30 a.m., then by 5:45 I’m drenched with sweat, ripping off layers because I can’t stand the heat. And by that point, I want to run. It feels phenomenal.

Mood follows action.

It’s like that with writing, too. I often don’t feel inspiration right when I sit down, but if I can just start, I know I’ll warm up. Writer’s block doesn’t mean we can’t write. It means we refuse to write unless we feel the flush of inspiration. This stems from an overly romantic notion about the process. Somewhere along the line, we’ve come to think of writing as a “special” task that should only be performed under ideal circumstances. This is nonsense.

Writing is no more special or precious than any other craft. Plumbing, carpentry, and welding are also crafts, and their practitioners aren’t known for waiting on inspiration. I can’t imagine a welder turning off her torch and saying, “Sorry boss, I’m just not feeling inspired today.” She’s got a job to do, so she flips down her face shield and gets to work.

Writing is no different. As one of the most productive writers I can think of (Jerry Seinfeld) says, “Writer’s block is a phony, made-up, BS excuse for not doing your work.”

I’m not taking the hardcore stance that we should work until we’re drained. There is a place for fallow periods, for letting your mind and soul rest after a season of activity. But such breaks are different from never starting in the first place.

Everyone has a story to tell, but the people who are able to execute them, to get them out in the world, are active, not passive. Stories don’t come to us. We have to chase them down. And once you start chasing, it becomes fun.

The act of chasing makes it fun.