Over the last few years, as Iโve worked on improving both my climbing and my writing, Iโve seen many similarities between these activities. Iโve detailed my thoughts on this over the last few posts, but hereโs a quick recap.
- Progress isnโt linear. There are jumps alternating with plateaus of consolidation, dotted with the occasional dip. But over time, progress happens.
- Sometimes things donโt work out, for reasons we canโt (yet) understand. Accept this and carry on.
- Deliberate, focused practice is important.
- Alongside deliberate practice there should be times of pushing forward and trying things beyond our current abilities.
- Everyone is different. What works for me wonโt necessarily work for you. While learning from others is important, we must each find our own way.
- The problem might not be the problem. When stuck, the solution might lay be uncovered in what came before.
- Knowing isnโt the same as doing (which is why practice and perseverance are so important)
- Muscle memory is useful, but remember that practice makes permanent, not necessarily perfect.
To bring this short series to a close, I want to consider a question. Why? Why do I climb, and why do I write?
The knee-jerk response is to say that I enjoy both activities. Fair enough, but I enjoy listening to music, and I donโt put in anywhere near the same effort in this as I do in climbing and writing.
So letโs go deeper. I became serious about my writing ten years ago. Why then? What caused this mind-shift?
At that time, I was struggling at work. I wonโt go into details, but I felt like I had no control over the situation, and no clear way forward.
This was when I started writing more regularly. I had no big plan. I started from the kernel of an idea, and wrote to see what would happen.
My writing was something I could control. True, I didnโt know where the story was going. But there wasnโt anyone else dictating what happened. Ultimately, I was the one who decided.
Some years later I had a short novella included in an anthology called The Power Of Words, and I realised that this power lies not only in the words themselves but also in bringing them forth. Writing gave me something I lacked in my job. It gave me a voice, even if this writing was, at that point, only for myself.
Iโd written before, but it reached somewhere deeper in me now. I continued, eventually finishing and then independently publishing novels.
And realised that writing was only a part of what being a writer was all about. Now that I had these books I needed to market them.
Okay, I didnโt need to. I could have put them up on Amazon and left everything to chance. But I thought it would be good to get something back from themโโโreaders, and also money. At least enough to pay for the production.
So I set about learning marketing. I learnt about newsletters and websites, about reader magnets. I learnt about advertising and reader funnels, social media and reader tropes. And a whole lot more. I tried different tactics to help readers find and buy my books.
And while I have sold a few copies, and have had some positive reviews and ratings, none of my books have yet earned out. So far, this writing and publishing thing has cost more than itโs brought in.
Why? I donโt know. I try things. I follow what others have done. I try to analyse where things are failing.
And one thing Iโve come to realise is that there are no guarantees. I could do exactly the same as some successful writer, and Iโd have wildly different results.
Because itโs not something I can control. Yes, I can tweak ads, or focus on targeting. Yes, I can write posts and newsletters. But when it comes to potential readers connecting with the ads, posts or newsletters, there is too much outside my control. There are a million other distractions. And if a potential reader does pay attention, are they in the frame of mind to buy, or to download a free book? If they download a book, will it become just another file, pushed down the TBR list in favour of a new, more exciting-sounding title?
I can control my input into marketing, but I canโt control what happens after that. Iโm at the whims of reader attention, of various store and social media site algorithms.
Which could explain why I grew more serious about climbing over the last few years. With a vague despondency over the lack of marketing success, I needed a feeling of control. While the writing served this to a point, it was always tinged with the marketing side of things.
In most sports, you compete against others, either individually or as part of a team. There is a winner, and by default there are losers (those who didnโt win). But climbing is different. Yes, there are climbing competitions (even at the level I climb), but the competition is far more internal.
I think Iโve mentioned the friendly, co-operative atmosphere Iโve found at climbing walls. Whatever level you climb at, there will be someone to offer advice and encouragement. As a regular at the walls I climb at, Iโm often there with other regulars, and we often work on a problem together. Weโll bounce ideas around, each trying something slightly different.
Usually, someone will reach the top first. But that doesnโt mean theyโve โwonโ, because the rest of us might reach the top using a slightly different set of moves. And even if you donโt reach the top, youโve made progress.
And that progress isnโt down to others. Okay, thereโs the advice. And the encouragement. But you take that in, and you let that feed into your efforts. Then, when the set of moves works out and you reach the top, you can justifiably say that youโve done it.
And if you donโt? Itโs not a case of someone else beating you to it, or someone else interfering (unless they do, in which case theyโll get thrown out). No, itโs simply that youโre not quite ready to solve that particular problem. Keep working at it, and maybe you will.
It comes back to control. Top out or not, itโs down to me. My climbing is under my control.
Iโve come to realise that having at least one activity like thisโโโsomething controllableโโโis vitally important. We exist in societies, where we have to fit in with others. Our actions are so often dictated or influenced by others, even people we donโt know. We can control how we respond to situations (to an extent), but we canโt control those situations. So having some time each week when we are autonomous can give a respite from this.
Itโs what I get from both writing (storytelling) and climbing. I get to be in control of things for a while. Yes, I get enjoyment from both activities (and thereโs physical wellbeing connected with climbing, barring any injuries), but they both help remind me that effort can bring rewards. It might not feel like that at timesโโโfor instance, when another set of ads falls flat. But thatโs because I havenโt found the right approach yet. Itโs like the โeveryone climbs differentlyโ thingโโโwhat works for one person wonโt necessarily work for me.
So I have to keep on. To climb higher grades I need to work on technique and push myself. To write better books I need to work on craft. To sell more books I need to persevere with marketing, taking in more advice and lessons and trying different approaches until I find what works for me.
And maybe that is another lesson from climbing I can bring to writing. Everything else can be seen as tactics, or ways to improve, but behind it all is perseverance.
The final, and most important, lessonโโโdonโt give up.
And thatโs it for what climbing has taught me about writing. This series originally appeared on my free Substackโโโclick here to subscribe. If youโre interested in the previous posts, after a short introduction I go into details on progress, my thoughts on practice, how individuality plays a role, and how knowing and doing are not the same.