Check out Malcolm Gladwell’s essay in The New Yorker. (And here’s an interview with Ben Fountain and another article if you’re interested.) He writes about Ben Fountain, whose success in this century reflects two decades of hard work. Fountain quit his job as a lawyer in 1988 to write fiction. His wife is also a lawyer, and she continued to work. They had two small children in the late 1980s, which only added to the frenzy. It’s interesting to see not only how Ben and Sharon Fountain decided to flip-flop what used to be common gender roles within marriage (man=breadwinner, woman=caretaker), but also how Ben Fountain persevered through two decades of writing without seeing the kind of success one might hope to see considering his effort. He would write from 7:30 to lunchtime, take a break, then write until the kids got home.
Gladwell weaves in the stories of Picasso and Cezanne, fleshing out the question of age and artistry. He cites studies and ages of successful poets among other things. He even contrasts Fountain with Jonathan Safran Foer, who wrote Everything is Illuminated in ten weeks at the age of 19. I haven’t read any of Fountain’s work yet, but his story provides hope to most of us.
I’m only a few months in with the freelance business, and already I’m wondering how much work/success I should see for the amount of time I’ve devoted to this. It’s a hard transition from a day job with a regular paycheck and benefits to self-employment and a dwindling savings account. Lately I wonder how much I actually care to write the kind of articles that make money and how much I really just want to write fiction and the occasional essay. I think a good six months, maybe 18 months might be telling for freelance. As far as fiction, though, it’s nice to know that a decade or so might be necessary before coming into any kind of success.
The endurance of writing is not unlike the endurance of running. I won’t drag up another running metaphor, but it is interesting to me to examine my interests and goals in light of my ability to keep going. On Sunday I was wishing I had just run the Denver Marathon instead of merely spectating. I’ve got a whole year to go before I can take a shot at either the Boulder or Denver Marathons. Likewise, I’ve got a lot of time before I like any of the stories I write or before I start getting regular freelance work. But in both instances, the discipline is the same: you can’t put in 1000 miles of running in the beginning of the week and run a marathon on Saturday, and you can’t put in 1000 pages of writing in a few good days and expect to have two or three great novels; it’s the everyday discipline of writing and running in appropriate increments that leads to improvement and success (hopefully). It’s having the faith to put in the work each day without seeing immediate results that leads to accomplishment. It’s the delayed gratification that runs counter to our cultural demands and ingrained expectations that we must endure. So take heart if you’re not where you want to be yet.

When It Was Fun
Last week my writing and running started to crumble. Two of the things I enjoy most require so much discipline and consistency that they become work (and in one case, is). Where did the fun go?
Early this week I started to transfer the running log I used from 2002-2007 to my own file. As I looked through the early entries, I could see almost every run as if I were living it again. Running used to be fun. I ran because I enjoyed it. Sure I was just as competitive then as I am now (probably more so then), but most days I enjoyed the time I was outside. Now I go into a run wishing it were already finished.
The same started to happen with writing. It could be I prefer fiction over freelance writing, but I started to doubt that I even liked writing fiction anymore.
This week I’ve tried to lower my standards (and thus the pressure) and just have fun. Yesterday I ran at Deer Creek Canyon (one of my favorites) for the first time in what seems like a year or two. It was so much fun. Trails capture what I love about running.
So here’s to having fun, even with work.