Image use purchased from Adobe
Scarcity of Opportunities
Every accomplishment a writer obtains is gained by competition. There are only so many books a publisher can accept, only so many spaces for writers to read at festivals, only so many spots on shortlists for awards. Then there’s the race to be included on the shelves in bookstores and libraries, or to be mentioned by readers and critics in reviews.
When my first book was published by Ronsdale Press, I was prepared to work hard not only on improving my manuscript, but also on promoting the book. What I hadn’t anticipated was how much it would activate old habits related to competition such as the I’m not good enough rant.
Plan B
It’s been a couple years since my book came out and I’ve had time to reflect. This has led me to return to an experience I had a long time ago when I was still able to indulge in long-distance running. There is an alternative way to experience competition, one that does not leave me feeling less than and that builds community for all of us. As I continue writing and publishing and competing whether I want to or not, I hope to experience more of that.
Taking Turns and Struggle
Twice I was part of a relay team in a special race through the mountains called the Kananaskis 100. We began in the foothills of Longview as the sun rose and finished on the alpine slopes of Fortress Mountain shortly before supper.
Of all the wonderful experiences I’ve had running, this was one of the very best—100 miles of up and down and taking turns. The things we experience in our bodies teach the most lasting lessons, I find. We know truth by how it feels.
Recognizing When You’re Lucky
Imagine the soul-awakening beauty of earliest spring, poplar trees beginning to grow new leaves, grasses returning after winter, mountains drawing nearer with every step. The Kananaskis 100 relay is held before the seasonal highway reopens, so the runners have exclusive use of the road.
Each time my writing receives any sort of attention in the crowded space, I’m being allowed on a limited access highway. Where I stand, others would want to. Everyone does not get the same opportunities. The least I can do is shut up and be happy.
Cheering for Others
Only 60 teams are allowed to participate in the mountain relay. Each team is allowed one van. When a person sets themselves a difficult goal, little is more helpful than finding others willing to put themselves in the same race and cheer one another on.
As I ran, the other members of the team drove alongside in the van, telling me I looked strong. As they ran, I did the same, clapping and cheering with the same level of devotion I would give to my children, enthusiastic support fostered by genuine confidence in the other person’s spirit.
It isn’t any different when we show up for each other in the writing community. Offering encouragement and celebrating other people’s accomplishments benefits us all.
The One-Person-Wins Formula
I’d hardly begun my leg of the race when I struck up a pleasant conversation with a fellow runner. We talked about running and life and having fun. After a while, he suggested we play a game. See that person up ahead, he said. Let’s try and pass them.
I wonder if you remember being a kid, daring your friend to race you, taking off barefoot on grass. The exhilaration and laughter and effort and friendship—nobody handed out medals and yet it was a competition.
It’s a revolutionary idea to transform the only-one-person-wins formula into something larger that can be shared. And I won’t pretend I haven’t had my own unwelcome visitations from the envy monster, but I try to nudge myself out of such mental deathtraps.
Who Determines My Value?
There are so many things that do not work about the one-person-wins formula. If you don’t believe me, go to your bookshelf and remove all but one of the books. Another monster-sized error of judgment held in place by unhealthy attitudes about competition is the assumption that other people determine my value.
When we did indeed pass the next runner in the relay and the two people after that, I was bubbling over with the exhilaration and mutual support. We challenged ourselves but we ran together.
Over time, the runner who’d engaged me in this game increased his pace and we parted. There was no clinging or bitterness; it was a race after all. What does that mean? I guess, perhaps, there can be fluidity in this competition experience, coming together and separating, continuing on.
Your Win Is My Loss
In the final stretch, when I could see my teammate waiting to take the baton and continue the race, I found myself side-by-side with a woman close to my age and fitness level. She was grinning like crazy when she tossed me a hey you, wanna rumble look and the race was on.
We finished neck in neck, I could hear her breathing we were that close, each of us giving our absolute all, there are few feelings better than that, honestly. In the final minute, she burst barely an arm’s length ahead of me. I finished laughing. And we high-fived.
How’s that for an alternative think on competition, how it can help, how we can choose what we make of it? I’d love to hear your thoughts. Please comment below. Also, if you enjoyed this blog, consider subscribing. It’s free.
Debbie Bateman 