by Heather Moore
The difference between my appearance when I was an unpublished author vs. a published author is my rear-end. I know, it sounds silly, but it's true. Yes, it's been a slow upward and outward spiral, packing on a little here and a little there. It all started in 2006. Even though I'd been writing about a book a year since 2001, in 2006 I wrote 2 books. If you are one of the many writers out there who are juggling everything from career to family to multiple hobbies, you know that when you take the time to write something else has to go. For me, it's the hiney.
Am I eating more? Not necessarily. Am I lazy? No way. But the profession/hobby/dream I've chosen requires a lot of sitting time. I've tried to type while standing, jogging, or stretching. Nothing works. (okay, I haven't really tried any of those, but I'm a logical person and I can just picture what would happen if I did.)
In my crammed-pack life, I've let MYSELF go. I've stopped exercising. There are lots of excuses that I can come up with, the lamest being that I just don't have time to walk in the next room and get on the elliptical for 30 minutes.
No more. Since I refuse to diet or alter my chocolate-addition in any way, I've had to get serious about what to do . . . and how to do it . . . So the past three weeks I've made more of an effort to exercise than ever. And the effort has been a sacrifice. But I decided that this sacrifice will be worth it. It will clear my writer's mind, hopefully let more inspiration dawn, and increase my endorphine levels. Each morning, I drag my 4-year-old and myself out the door to the gym. There is a nifty 9:30 a.m. kid's fitness class there and I walk/run/stumble on the track for a whole hour. The entire process? About 2 hours.
My goal? To be a better ME so that I can be a better writer. With an exercise schedule in place, my writing time has just become all that more precious. And if it took an official writer's butt to finally motivate me, so be it.