The Shaw paper I’ve been working on has been stalled for several weeks. Much of the energy I normally use for writing has been diverted into the presidential election. Ever since the political conventions this summer I’ve been volunteering for the Get Out the Vote effort, and I’m feeling more urgency as Election Day approaches.

It’s not just that I get tired walking from house to house in Florida’s heat. Canvassing requires digging deeply into my reserves of psychic energy. I’m a strong introvert, and talking to strangers isn’t easy for someone like me.

Whatever energy I have left over has been invested in (of course) dancing. Saturday morning I took a folk dance class before I headed out to knock on doors for my candidate.

Two things that happened have stuck in my head, and it finally occurred to me that they have something in common – something that can perhaps be applied to writing.

The folk dancing I’m learning is a stylized form often used in classical ballet. (The technical term is “character dancing.”)  There are three adults in the class and ten children.

Usually we adults have a hard time with the class because so many steps require jumping or hopping. But on Saturday the kids were struggling too, and the teacher was trying hard to help them with a tricky pattern.

And then – unexpectedly – she started grinning and talking about a friend of hers who trained horses. Watching the children today, she said, she suddenly realized they were colts!

And then it was okay that they were struggling. They’re supposed to. They’re colts, for heaven’s sake. (The teacher had the grace not to say that we adults were old nags!)

Here’s the point, though: She was making meaning by combining two dissimilar things – something that writers do all the time. That kind of connection is the basis for allegory and metaphor, but that’s not what I want to talk about today.

What interests me right now is energy. When those colts found their way into the ballet studio Saturday morning, the energy level changed. Suddenly it was ok to be young and awkward, with your limbs going every which way.

I started thinking about energy again while I was canvassing. Several children – maybe six or seven years old – were playing in front of an apartment building when I walked up with my clipboard and campaign button. They were wildly excited when they found out which candidate I was representing.

Suddenly I wasn’t tired any more, and the Florida heat didn’t matter. It was fun to be treated like a celebrity, but there was more. That enthusiasm had to be coming from somewhere. This election was really important to those children’s parents and grandparents, and the entire building was buzzing.

Back to writing. It requires high levels of energy, but most people have never been taught that simple truth. I know so many people who would love to write a memoir, a short story, a poem – even a letter to the editor – but they can’t find a way to rev up that writing engine. Sadly, many of them eventually get tired of struggling with that inertia and simply give up.

Experienced writers, on the other hand, know that there are many ways to crank up that energy: talking, drawing, reading, taking notes, visualizing the finished project.

And maybe sometimes – as long as it doesn’t become a habit! – we need to give ourselves a break.

Tomorrow is Election Day. Starting Wednesday, I’ll be coming back to my Shaw project. That’s a promise.