It’s been a long time since we’ve had a sports analogy around here, so — lucky you! — today’s the day.

In honour of blog reader Sarah (and because it’s the only sport I’ve ever played), today’s analogy is all about ultimate. Here goes:

Once you’ve thrown the disc, you have to run. You can’t clasp your hands and hop up and down on tiptoes and lean to the left hoping to psychically nudge the disc into your teammate’s hands.

No, you have to let it go.

You have to assume your throw is going to be a spectacular success, and run. If you don’t run, the whole play moves on without you, you’re too late to contribute, or your check has sprinted free of you and is now catching the disc in her own end zone while you stand there looking like a clasping, tiptoeing, leaning idiot. (Not that this has ever happened to me or anything.)

With me so far?

I’m thinking that this is a little like sending a manuscript into the world. It’s tempting to track its progress. Check the mailbox (electronic and otherwise) daily, wonder about its progress, send it psychic nudges. But really, it’s better just to run. Get ready for the next play. Move on to a new book. Assume that your manuscript is going to be wildly successful without constant monitoring.

Easier said than done, in both writing and ultimate. But the best players manage it.