“Posterior tibial tendinitis,” the
doctor said, pointing to my
sore ankle.
Momentarily, I forgot about the pain
in my foot. As a writer fascinated by
words, I found this clinical-sounding
diagnosis had a lyrical, rhythmic qual-
ity. I even enjoyed learning that poste-
rior is from the Latin posterus, referring
to the backside of things. My tendon
that supported the arch of my foot, pro-
viding stability when walking, was
inflamed.
I gasped when the doctor announced,
“Four to six weeks off your feet to let it
heal.” Next, I was being fitted for a walk-
ing boot – a maze of eight Velcro straps
from my toes to my knee.
I couldn’t believe that for the past
six months, I’d been playing rigorous
tennis – my antidote to the sedentary
writer’s life. Now I was strapped into a
medieval-looking contraption. There
was nothing much to do except com-
plain, whine “why me?” and...write.THE SEAT OF
MY PANTS ON
THE SEAT OF
MY CHAIR
By Candy Schulman
Icing my ankle, I consoled myself by
counting the upsides to being injured.
My husband would cook dinner and do
the laundry! Friends would dote on me
and shower me with heaps of cheer-up
chocolate! I’d save money, unable to
procrastinate by browsing in stores and
buying stuff I didn’t really need.
In just a few days, I discovered that
my most surprising perk was that my
writing productivity increased.
Every semester, I work hard to
inspire my students, promising that
daily writing discipline, like practicing
a musical instrument, is the only way
to write better and avoid writer’s block.
Of course, you don’t have to be sitting
down to accomplish this. Allegedly,
6-foot-6-inch Thomas Wolfe wrote
standing up, using the top of his refrig-
erator as his desk.
I couldn’t stand without pain. I
found solace in the words of writer and
activist Mary Heaton Vorse; in 1911,
she advised young Sinclair Lewis, “The
art of writing is the art of applying the
seat of the pants to the seat of the
chair.” Lewis went on to win a Nobel
Prize in Literature.4 | The Writer • May 2020
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