Inertia Notwithstanding from James W. Ziskin

Writing is a sedentary, solitary pursuit for the most part. How do you take care of your physical and mental health while you’re at it? 

As Matthew wrote earlier this week, I don’t. I don’t care for myself. For starters, I don’t like exercise, a petulant sentiment to which I feel entitled by virtue of my advanced age and general lack of drive (read, I’ve managed to stick around this long and now I don’t feel like moving). I’d rather not exert myself, unless it’s for a good reason, like running from a lion. You won’t find me hiking through the woods or climbing mountains, no. I am one of the Great Indoorsmen. 

I exaggerate, of course. (No, I don’t.)

Inertia notwithstanding, however, I admit that I don’t actually sit for too long when writing. Perhaps I shouldn’t complain.

When I’m in a writing sprint—careering toward the end of a book—I spend a couple of hours a day in a chair working. Usually in the morning. Then I do other activities such as running errands or eating. Later, in the evening, I often return to writing and put in some more time. I write on a tablet, so I can work anywhere. On the couch, in bed, at the table. The hours I spend sitting and writing are actually a holiday for me (see above re: attitude toward exercise), which, I suppose, might be beneficial for my mental health.

But for the past several years, I’ve been teaching high school French. And now I’m teaching Italian and Spanish in a middle school, so there’s absolutely no reason for me to want for exercise. True, I do lose my mind every day. Several times a day, in fact. That’s just part of the job. It’s in the job description. Every day is a workout. 

In addition to insanity, another downside to a full-time teaching gig is that I don’t have the energy or inclination to write as much as I would like. But that will surely change. When it’s time to sit myself down and sprint to the end of a book, I’ll be ready. Exhausted, sure. Mentally drained, without a doubt. But blissfully content to sit for hours in a chair by myself. My mood will improve, the burden will lighten, and I will spit out a book. That always brightens the damp drizzly November in my soul. But I still won’t do any exercise.

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THE PRANK…enigmatic and unnerving. The pace never flags for a second. This is some masterly plotting. I loved it. 

—Liz Nugent, author of Strange Sally Diamond

Zero

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