You Can Do Anything For Two Minutes

by Alison Janssen

So remember how I used to play roller derby? Well, my best friend still plays, and this week marks a really big achievement for her in derbydom: She's rostered for her first game as a Rat City All-Star, and I could not be more proud of her.

Back in 2004, when we both joined the Mad Rollin' Dolls at a street fair and didn't have any idea what roller derby even was, we were so excited about learning to skate and block and all that good stuff. We showed up to practice, eager and full of energy, and we rarely took our safety gear off. (Because seriously, wearing knee, elbow, and wrist pads makes you feel invincible! Why not wear them all the time?!) We wanted to practice until we were awesome.

Well, as the seasons wore on and we joined our respective and various teams, derby got harder. I was on a team with really great skaters, and though I know I played well, I struggled to keep up with their athleticism. Practices became more of a chore than an opportunity to learn and grow. Derby was still fun, but the joy of the public bouts were rare, compared to the commitment to slogging through practice times.

Around season three I hit a plateau -- I was a good blocker and an ok pivot, but I wasn't improving in obvious ways anymore. It seemed like my good derby days were behind me, maybe. Like maybe the plateau I'd reached was as good at derby as I was going to get, and practice was now for maintenance instead of learning.

Then our league struck up a deal with a local gym, the Monkey Bar. Skaters could get personal training sessions twice a week, off-skates, in addition to our regular practice times. I have never, ever belonged to a gym -- it was too much for me to even walk to the gym on campus when I was in college -- and so at first I ignored the Monkey Bar opportunity. But then, and I can't remember why, exactly, but I decided to give it a try.

Oh, boy. My derby game improved SO MUCH because of the off-skates cross training. For one whole summer, I went twice a week for two hour sessions with some of my derby teammates. I could do snatches with a 20K kettle bell. It wasn't easy, and it often hurt, and because I'm a wimp, I actually cried through many of those workouts -- but the staff at Monkey Bar was ok with my tears, and I blew past the plateau I'd been on and began to learn and improve exponentially again. I finished out my last two seasons with increased skill and confidence, and even tried jamming in interleague play (on Team Unicorn).

My best friend, Ivana Clobber, has never settled onto a plateau. She's skated with five (I think?) leagues, always aiming to learn and improve and challenge herself. She attends every practice she can, and she seeks out feedback from coaches and fellow skaters to help improve her game. She's not afraid of the drudgery of a twenty-minute non-stop skate, because even though it might hurt and is boring, it'll help make her better. She'll do the same drill over and over and over, practicing one individual skill at a time, because even if it seems silly to focus on the small things, the larger picture benefits from the attention to each piece, and improves.

Does this sound familiar, authors?

Never settle for the plateau you're on. Strive to make each draft better than the next -- and keep revising your drafts, even if it seems like your prose is as good as you can make it.

Show your work to others, and listen to their feedback. Learn how to incorporate it into your future drafts.

Do writing exercises, even if they seem boring and tedious. It's astounding what a different and useful perspective you'll get on your manuscript if you rewrite the first chapter as first person, just for fun.

Move outside your comfort zone when writing. Don't think about how much that kettle bell weighs, just pick it up!

During a derby bout, the individual sections of game play are called jams, and they can last up to two minutes. We had a refrain for the end of bouts, when everyone (especially jammers) were so worn out, so tired, and so spent that they didn't think they could skate anymore. But hey, it's only two minutes. You can do anything for two minutes.

Remember that when you're writing. You may be mid-draft, you may be hating the direction you took, you may be tempted to scrap it all and give up. But listen: You can do anything for two minutes. Sit down. Forge ahead. Keep working. All those bits of two minutes will add up, and in the end, you'll be glad you finished.

And you may just make the All Star team and get your own jersey:

Comments

[Ken]

I was halfway through your post when I thought: why am I reading about Roller Derby? Which is to say that was a terrific piece. Why else would I be reading about something in which I had no real interest? Because I was fascinated in finding out where you were going with it. Well done. And now I am interested in Roller Derby.

[Ivana Clobber]

Alison, you are the wind beneath my wings! I love you so much! Thank you! <3 <3 <3