Amy Sue Nathan

Writing for the Gold

It has been said that a lot of what drives U.S. Olympian Michael Phelps to greatness is the fact that he wants to honor his mom — a single mother who sacrificed much over the years to get him where he is today.

That got me thinking about the trials and tribulations of writers. The sacrifices our friends and families make when we stick our face in front of the monitor and don’t come up for air for hours. We start out in training, writing and rewriting and go through preliminary trials with submissions and rejections. Then we make it to the finals when someone wants to publish what we’ve written, be it a poem, and essay or a novel.

And just like Michael Phelps loves to swim and does the work and obviously pushes himself to quiet the swimming beast that lies within him…there’s a higher drive, there’s something more. It’s not all about him. I imagine that it has always been about his mom and even his sisters. And now it’s about the American public because he’s OUR Olympian, he’s each of us.

Asking myself who I write for revealed a cacophony of answers that required a second cup of coffee.

First, and most importantly, I write for me because I truly like to write. I’d be writing no matter what else I was doing. The me part also comes into play because I enjoy it when people read my writing – in any form. Yes, including this blog. Writing, for me, is a craft that I work on perfecting – I like the way words work together and how a phrase can sing without any music. And I like when people like what I write.

Second I write for my kids. I want them to see me doing something I love, whether or not I ever get The Gold. I’ve hit Silver and Bronze a few times with my published essays, but to me The Gold is a published book. They have seen me excited and we’ve jumped around and giggled together when an essay of mine landed on the front page of my section of The Chicago Tribune. The laughter sounded strangely like the national anthem.

Third I write for my parents because I know it makes them proud and happy. They would totally be in China cheering me on if writing were an Olympic sport.

The last reason I write isn’t necessarily a good one. I write to prove, in general, that it can be done. For all the wannabe writers, the doubting Thomases, the people who rolled their eyes at me or any writer anywhere.

I bet there were people who told Michael Phelps that swimming would never be more than a way to cool off in the summer. I bet there were those who told our Silver Medalist Women’s Gymnastic team members that tumbling was cute.

Cute. Yea.

At the end of the day, who or what drives you to continue through the Olympic task of writing a novel?