Third and Long
I'm writing this post on Sunday night. In the other room, Live-In Handyman is watching the football game. I enjoy watching football for a little while if I like at least one of the teams playing.
Even so, I think football is an odd game. Grown men running around trying to catch a funny-looking ball. Or running around trying to keep someone else from catching a funny-looking ball. And once someone does catch the pointy ball, football becomes a foot race.
The other weird thing is this. Every time the teams line up for the snap, almost every player knows they're going to get hit. Think about that for a moment.
You're either going to hit somebody or somebody is going to hit you. Or both. However it happens, it's going to hurt. And for showing the world this example of ungentlemanly force and bad behavior, someone is going to pay you a lot of money. A. Lot. Of. Money.
I have yet to make sense of this.
Yet as writers, don't we do much the same thing?
We don't get banged up physically - usually - but we take plenty of lumps from critique partners, agents, editors, reviewers, and readers. Yet we come back day after day and write all over again.
Hmmm. Maybe football isn't so odd after all.
What do you think?