Much ado about something

Last night I caught the last twenty minutes of a HBO special on tennis players John McEnroe and Bjorn Borg who played against one another at Wimbledon in 1980. I was astounded not so much by their emotional problems as much as I was by their similarities; despite at one time being rivals, both men came to share losses, one quit the game at age 26, and the other never won a major title after he turned 25, which implies certain talents die with age.

For the most part sports figures have short careers, nevertheless, it brought to mind two distinct ideas; whether you engage in a sport or a creative gift, it's an attempt to release and dissipate inner anxiety, and particular talents die with age, as opposed to others that enhance with time.     http://bit.ly/jataqM

 

Take writing for example; every writer knows about the labor involved in writing, some may even feel they have a cross to bear; the many hours of imagining, drafting, writing and re-writing that go into a novel. How many query letters are left unanswered, and when the world looks like an uncaring place–it's no wonder that many writers become alcoholics to dull the pain of being ignored.

But when you continue to polish your craft and your work gets recognized, it's like winning the Wimbledon Championship (http://www.wimbledon.com/en_GB/index.html) and kissing the trophy. Others speak of it; for weeks, or months, perhaps years, people may continue to read and talk about your work; and you look at letters or e-mails with compliments for giving an enlightening or entertaining read, how wonderful that feels, you're satiated and you return back to where you started–to write another novel, and another, and continue to throw words at the world with your thoughts, ideas, creations and stories.