Walking the dog

I was out this morning, walking the dog. I’m out most days, walking the dog. Walking the dog is a thing that has to be done every day because the dog is a border collie and there is not much in the way of weather or activity that she will turn her nose up at. After the dog is walked, she will settle down and sleep while I work as long as there is no exciting activity elsewhere in the house, on the street outside or within audible distance.

Today while I was out walking the dog, I thought about how writing is like walking the dog. Ideally your writing will run ahead of you, following its nose and coming back when you whistle. If your writing is inclined to try herding bikes and cars and spook at leaves and rustles in the undergrowth (ahem, collie), you might aim for a loose lead. You don’t want the lead to tangle or drag on the ground though. Sometimes, your writing may plant her feet and refuse to move. Tugging on the lead will frustrate you both and achieve nothing. You will have to wait patiently, start moving in a way that looks appealing to the writing and ridiculous to anyone passing by, or — if desperate — throw a nut or two in the direction you want to go. Sometimes your writing will want to stop for a good sniff, and I’m afraid there will be toilet breaks. If you follow your writing, she may take you somewhere you didn’t expect, like up a mountain or to the foyer of the local supermarket where she can sit and monitor the comings and goings at her leisure. I don’t think you want your writing to walk tight by your side, full obedience trial style. You might like to try agility though, running side by side, your writing following the pace you set and taking the jumps with ease. A few rounds like this and you’ll need a break to walk round the park. Then maybe one more.

Some days, the writing will be easy, you and your work in sync and enjoying the sun on your faces and the water all round. Other days it will be a complete fucking nightmare. No matter, you need the exercise and tomorrow will be a new day. Every day your writing will wake up, stretch and look at the door. If you don’t take her out, she’ll bark and yip or sigh dramatically in the corner. Best to put your coat and sneakers on, stick some poo bags and treats in your pocket, leave the phone at home and get out there.