#196 Cutting Your Losses

A million years ago I tried out for the Spring Branch Junior High basketball team.  Though I was one of the shortest kids in our class, I thought I had a legitimate chance of making the team.  For a week, a hundred or so gangly youths performed dribble drills, shooting drills, 3 on 2 drills, cones, and whatever else our junior high coaches could think of to test our young basketball skills.

On the first day, a close friend of mine dribbled the ball from the base line to a cone positioned at the free-throw line.  He rounded the cone and let loose one of the worst jumpers of the day.  The ball soared over the backboard and bounced into the grass behind the outdoor basketball court.  Every boy in the yard laughed and heckled my friend.  He shagged the ball, threw it to the next boy in line and saluted the coaches, thanking them for their time and the opportunity.  Less than an hour after tryouts began, my friend left the yard.  His basketball career came to an abrupt end.

I stayed.  I executed drill after drill.  I demonstrated my quickness and my superior perimeter defending.  I played hard and showed the coaches that no matter what, I would NEVER give up.  And at the end of the week I was sad to learn that I had not made the first cut.  I was devastated.  It was the first time in any sport that I didn't make the team.  I went to the coaches office after practice and told them I would try harder.  I asked them for another chance.  My coaches were sympathetic but unyielding.  "We're sorry," they said.  "It's just not meant to be."

Writing can be like this.  A writer can pour his or her heart and soul into a story -- can spend weeks, or even months, on a project, vowing that it would become a wonderfully finished novel.  But not all projects are meant to be.  It doesn't matter how much work or passion goes in.  The novel is doomed from the beginning, much like my basketball career.  The question is this: at what point in the process do you realize a project isn't meant to be?  Near the beginning?  Or do you fight through all the challenges until the bitter end?

Writers must develop the skill to look at their own work with a discerning eye.  Writers must be able to recognize when their story is too short or their dribbling is too sloppy.  Writers must be able to see when their shots consistently miss the backboard, only to bounce in the grass far outside of the boundaries of the court they are playing on.

But no matter how long it takes, no matter how much passion is put into a project, writers must be able cut their losses and move on to the next project.  They will save time and heartache, and those are two things writers must always look to save.