Today’s guest post is provided by Carole Mertz.

I am a relatively new writer. At the ninth assignment of a 12-assignment online writer’s course I balked. I don’t know why I balked, but I balked.  

This is when Steven Pressfield charged in with a rescue plan. Only I hadn’t met him yet. During that hot and rainy June we’d suffered a basement flood, travelled across the Commonwealth of Pennsylvania for a relative’s birthday, and handled a change of job for my husband with adjustments to his new schedule.  

I was introduced to Pressfield via his Kindle version of War of Art. In the full book version I encountered the very essence of Pressfield as writer, along with the feral Beast (Resistance). 

“When I wake,” Pressfield relates, “[w]hat I am aware of is Resistance. I feel it in my guts. I afford it the utmost respect, because I know it can defeat me on any given day as easily as the need for a drink can overcome an alcoholic.”* He then describes how, if he is to maintain self-respect, he defies the Beast.  

I’d grappled with my first non-fiction piece for the course, an article on how a parent engages a private piano teacher for her child, and to what purpose. The groundwork lay in my files untouched for three weeks. But the cement hadn’t yet hardened, the material remained malleable. 

The stakes were high for completing the work: either maintain your writing schedule or allow your husband’s change of schedule and your family obligations to disrupt your own schedule. Complete your work, or lazily submit a request to your mentor for an extension. Submit your work on time, or prove you are a mere amateur. Complete the assignment, or admit failure.

Two days prior to submitting my article I growled. Annoyance at self swelled. I reached for my folder. “You will not take hold of me,” I growled to the Beast, and my growl was louder than his. My not-so-silent voice within resounded, “You do want to complete your work, you do want to meet your deadlines as a professional, you will submit this article on time.” I worked through the afternoon and evening. I found I’d done more research than I’d realized. There was enough experience on which to draw and enough material to shape my soddy cement into an article. An interesting slant occurred to me; I used it. The Beast was chained. 

The next day I set my priorities: I’d work on the article, even through the night, until it was completed. I submitted it. Due to the groundwork, the unexpected gift of the slant, and the clarity of my sentences, my mentor returned a sparkling report. “This article needs no revision. It’s ready for submission to the magazine you’ve chosen.” 

I reflected on what might have happened had I not growled. I might have dropped out of the course. I might have given in to delay and lack of discipline. “Just one more drink,” I might have said, beginning a long cycle of “just one more.” “Resistance is the most toxic force on the planet,” Pressfield declares. “It is the root of more unhappiness than poverty, disease, and erectile dysfunction. To yield to Resistance deforms our spirit.”** I knew the Beast must be respected, but he can also be chained.

*See The War of Art: Break Through the Blocks and Win Your Inner Creative Battles, (New York, N.Y.: Grand Central Publishing Edition, 2002), 64-65,142.

**See The War of Art: Winning the Inner Creative Battle, (New York, N.Y.: Rugged Land, LLC, 2002) EBook. 

Carole Mertz, a life-long professional musician, has turned to full-time writing. She is published by Concordia Publishing House, The Lutheran Digest, The Rockford Writers’ Guild, and online with several reviews and stories at the Long Ridge Writers Group Webletter. Carole lives in Parma, Ohio, with her Pastor husband.