What I think about when I'm swimming

I spent most of the last year and a bit writing a novel. To stop myself contracting that well-known condition 'writer's arse', I made myself go swimming twice a week, a quick(ish) twenty lengths at Wednesday lunchtime, and thirty lengths (going up to forty lengths more recently) on Saturday morning. That's not a lot of exercise, I know, but more than I have done for a long time. And I am not a strong swimmer, nor a technically proficient one. My breaststroke is ragged and my front crawl raggeder.

I admit that I didn't always manage both of my twice-weekly swims. The mid-week lunchtime session was the one in most danger of being dropped, especially as I approached the end of the novel, and the deadline. Sometimes, I just couldn't allow myself the time away from my desk.

As I swam I often thought about the book I was working on. Not in any useful way. I did not attempt to resolve any tricky plot issues, or sketch scenes in my head. No point really, as I wouldn't have been able to jot down any good ideas that came to me. It's hard to swim with a notebook in one hand.

No, I would just think about the process of writing, and I would carry with me a sense of where I was in the writing of the book, and somehow I would relate that to the act of swimming. So that it almost felt like I was swimming my book.

I would always compare where I was in the writing, how far I was from the end, to where I was in the day's swim, and how far I was from my target number of lengths. When I was more or less halfway in the book, I would get a special sense of harmony with myself when I hit the mid-point of my swim.

My ability to finish the lengths I set myself encouraged me to believe that I would be able to finish the novel.

Now I'm working on the edits of my novel, and there isn't really any analogous phase in a swimming session; except perhaps if I swam an extra length or two after I'd reached the day's target.

I confess I nearly didn't make it to the pool today. My desire to just get the edits done nearly won out. The fact is, I don't really enjoy swimming. It's the same kind of drudgery as writing a novel.

What I enjoy more than swimming is having swum. In the same way, I suppose, I find having written far more satisfying than writing.

And yet I am determined to persevere in both.

Man against cat.

This really happened today. Several times. I stopped her climbing on my lap so she climbed on my shoulder. Unbelievable.

It's a heroic struggle, writing, sometimes.

I finally get down to some work.

Apologies to Rachael King and Paul Campbell, whose comments on an earlier version of this have been swallowed by blogger. Arrrgggggg!

Ever been to myspace?

Maybe it's time for a visit.

Just a bunch of writers talking about writing, that's all.

(If you have time, scroll down to check out the discussion thread - that's what myspace is all about.)