Running for Virtual Roses

Recently, I signed up for an online class on how to book a blog (or blog a book -- I cannot remember exactly). I felt like a racehorse crashing out of the gate when the appointed hour for accessing lesson number one arrived. I was out in front, devouring the lesson before any of my virtual classmates were awake, the first one to venture onto the message board. 

I suppose I should have paced myself better. Maybe if I had given the material a chance to sink in I would have been able to keep my interest level up long enough to actually try some of the exercises. Instead, my burst of adrenaline led to an early crash. I could not figure out where the course was going to lead me, much less how it was going to get me there. I wasted my chronically paltry reserves on the discussion board, figuring the instructor would explain it all to me and reboot my engine. Maybe I could meet some of my virtual classmates, commiserate with them, even, about virtually everything.

The instructor suggested I do some of the assignments. If I really wanted clarity, apparently, I could purchase the supplemental course materials, which happened to be books written by her on the very same elusive topic. The books were not available online; they were the tangible kind, and cost lots of real money. I had already spent too much of that on what was starting to look like a desperate attempt to have someone do all the unpleasant work for me -- the careful planning, the market research, the tasks that require not just vision and an urge to spew but a lot of effort. I imagine this is how folks feel in mid-January after they've forked over the gym fees and realize that (a) the good stuff always costs more, and (b) even then, nobody else is going to do the actual work for them. There are no quick fixes in real life; if you want a Hail Mary pass, play football. 

I am way too old, brittle, and non-confrontational for contact sports, and despite my frequent forays into the virtual world of the Internet I am a realist. If Woody Allen was right -- that 80% of success is just showing up -- I am doomed to fail. At least when it comes to booking a blog or blogging a book. I did not show up to any of the remaining online classes. This filly pulled up lame way before she approached the finish line; I never even made it to the first split. I did not stick around long enough to see if the virtual instructor ever checked on my progress, or whether my virtual classmates even existed. 

All is not lost. True, I could not quite make it to  virtual class filled with virtual people, even though I did not even have to get out of bed or change into real clothes to do so. I still show up when I want to, for the stuff that makes sense to me. My father always told me I could succeed at virtually anything (though maybe not anything virtual?), as long as I put my mind to it. Combine that with Woody's advice, and success should be within my grasp. Neither one felt the need to mention that your heart needs to be in it too, but why state the obvious?