As I'm wrapping up a book edit on the history of Major League Soccer, a very familiar feeling has crept into my effort. And it's fitting that a sports book has spawned that sensation, one I remember all too well from my personal sports experience.
Back in '83 I ran the Marine Corps Marathon in D.C. Like so many marathoners, I hit "The Wall" at the 20-mile mark and then hung on for the remaining 6.2 miles, somehow conjuring up some adrenaline for a strong finish.
The Wall came 76.3 percent into the marathon. It just occurred to me that I usually hit my book-editing wall at just about the same point.
So I'll keep scrolling through the MS, hit one key after another, and then dig deep within to find the energy for a sprint to the finish line.
Long-distance running and manuscripts into the hundreds of pages: no pain, no gain.
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The Unbearable Rightness of Editing
