Last night Eldest and I had a tough conversation. He played poorly at golf and wasn’t happy about it. Worse, he had to come home and tell his father (a nearly scratch golfer) about his bad game.
Golf is my son’s favorite sport, but messing up is easy to do when you let your mistakes get under your skin. For example, the two water balls on a par three. It just sets the tone for the rest of the round.
Needless to say, Eldest doesn’t do well under pressure like that. “You can’t imagine how hard it is when the three guys you’re golfing with say things.”
“Dude, I totally get it.” Isn’t that what submitting is?
We put ourselves out there for someone to judge. We take our feedback and internalize it. Sometimes we do a good job of keeping our heads up after a rejection. Other times, we almost fold.
It takes guts to tee off in front of others. It takes emotional fortitude to duff a shot, shake it off and hit the next one straight. Golf is a head game. And in a lot of ways, so is writing.
“Mom, writing is a hobby. Anyone can do it. Not as well as you, but they still can.” Whoever says teens are horrible doesn’t know my son.
“Yeah, well I’m trying out for the PGA.”
Who wants to be my caddy?