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The Running Writer (and Three of Hearts)

I’ve often compared running and writing.  They’re both things I love to do, they’re both mostly solitary pursuits, and require setting your mind to a task and not stopping until it’s done.  Both can be done pretty much everywhere, and need minimal equipment.  A body. A mind. Running shoes. A laptop.  The bells and whistles of wicking socks, a running watch that takes my heartbeat, and a MP3 player are like writing software, books on the craft, and a glitter pen that writes in turquoise:  very nice, but not essential.

In most stories and in most runs, there’s a point at which I want to stop.  “No more,” I think despairingly, “I can’t do this any longer.”  And in most stories and most runs, if I can get myself past that point, the end is worth it.  The satisfaction of completing a story knowing I’ve told something good.  The joy of completing a run when I didn’t think I could run that far or that fast.  (Running ’til you puke is a whole ‘nother topic). And in the long haul of training, or a writing career, there’s times in both when I’ve thought, what’s the point of continuing? I’ll never get faster, no one will ever want to read this.   But getting past those mental blocks brings great rewards. Continue reading “The Running Writer (and Three of Hearts)”

Sweat

Sweat

Some time ago, I was telling a friend about my latest run. I described how beautiful it was running along the Maroochy River as the sun set, seeing the pelicans glide in like 747s, dodging the walkers and the fishermen, being deafened by the cacophony of the lorikeets in the gum trees. I finished by saying that I’d stepped up the pace for the last kilometre, so hard that at the end I was bent double, head spinning, trying my best not to puke.

“It was the best run in a long time!” I said.

There was a silence. My friend looked askance. “I can’t believe you used “best” and “puke” in the same sentence,” she said. “That is so wrong.”

But it was so right. The joy of movement, of exercising to your limit, whatever that limit may be, is one of the sweet things in life.

And now “Sweat”  edited by Harper Bliss is here. A collection of sweaty lesbian stories from five sweaty writers of lesbian erotica.

My story “Marathon Woman” kicks off the collection. It’s the tale of Vinnie and Riz, and how running fits into their relationship and what it means to each of them. And “Sweat” goes on from there, with wonderful stories about yoga (Laila Blake), swimming (Lucy Felthouse), tennis (Harper Bliss) and (my favorite) roller derby (Ezrabet Bishop).

Check out “Sweat”  at Ladylit or on  Amazon

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