Tiny January: A Simple Plan to Train for SOL

Estimated Reading time: 741 words, 3 minutes.

Audience: Teachers, administrators, coaches, people!

I have several people in my life who enjoy running and often join significant races to push themselves. They don’t show up on the day of the race, wear their number, and just run; they make it a thing to build stamina over time before the race, training and stretching their strength a bit at a time, so that on the big day, their bodies react naturally to the challenge presented.

For some reason, that’s what came to mind when I thought about writing a post for January 1st. The first month of the year reminds me that March is around the corner, and with it, the annual Slice of Life Story Challenge—my kind of race.

I pictured myself training for March the same way my running friends train for their races: focusing on building consistency and running small distances when the stakes are low. They enjoy the actual act of running on race day because they trust their bodies to do what they have learned.

The Context

Every March, the team at Two Writing Teachers hosts the annual Slice of Life Story Challenge, which requires anyone who joins to write every day for the entire month. That is 31 entries, 31 stories, and 31 ideas that one must shape into a decent-enough-to-go-online post, followed by some time spent reading and commenting on other writers who are also participating. This part always feels like the cherry on top for me.

This will be my third year entering the challenge, and while it’s been gratifying to push myself over the past two years, I often find myself struggling in the first few days because my “writing muscles” aren’t in prime shape. For two years, I entered a race without proper training. I ran, fell, got up, and made it. I enjoyed some days, but not all, and when it’s over, the relief trumps the accomplishment. I wonder if this year, I could be in better shape for it.

Tiny January – A Plan

James Clear’s recipe for consistency includes two aims: try not to miss a day, and if you do, try not to miss another. He also advises setting bite-sized goals that can be achieved without much effort. In the case of a writing challenge, a sentence feels more achievable than a whole post.

Sentences are like food on a charcuterie board: various shapes, sizes, and flavors. Combined, they are interesting, but they can also stand alone and provide the same flavors—bite-sized ideas, one sentence a day. Cheese one day, olives another.

Here’s my short plan to set myself up for success:

• Write in a notebook and keep that notebook on the nightstand.
• Write after or before doing something habitual, like taking my evening meds (which are conveniently kept in my nightstand)
• When stuck, cycle through these prompts (thanks, Kim!):
  • I remember when…
  • I hope never to forget…
  • I will try to notice…
• Number the sentences so each growing number serves as a tiny reward.

Why it Matters

I know that this feels like a post written for me, and it is, but I’m also thinking of my fellow teachers and how I hope they’ll want to join me in March.

Last year, I convinced 15 teachers to take on the challenge, most of whom didn’t even have their own blogs. Some wrote for the entire month, others missed a few days, but came back and kept trying. Some felt joy, others felt defeat. What they all experienced, though, was how much writing meant to them as teachers. During those days, they saw themselves as students in their class, battling the same fears and insecurities that come with the task of writing.

It matters that we run alongside our students. It matters that we build and maintain habits. It matters that we try something new. It matters that we create. This writing challenge matters.

When I present the idea to teachers to join #SOL26 in a few weeks, I want them to consider it and believe me when I say, “Even a sentence works!”

Bottom Line

One sentence a day isn’t small; it’s how writers can learn to trust themselves. Forgetting, for a moment, that we are teachers, I think of writing as a venue for so much more, like reflection, discovery, a way to build a habit that will grant us a gift for the future: tiny scenes of our past selves—one sentence a day, just for the fun of it.