What Snowboarding Taught Me About Writing

Hi fiction lover! I’m so happy that you’re joining me for my tenth blog post. #10! I can’t believe we reached double digits already. I plan to do a lot more, whether fanfic reviews, reactions, bookish theories, and everything related to the joy of fiction of course! Today, I’m going to be talking about what snowboarding taught me about writing. 

I am by no means a snowboarder. When I first tried it almost a decade ago, I ended up falling flat on my face too many times to count. I accidentally slammed into another snowboarder while going sideways across the hill, and later on, while taking ski lessons, an adaptive skier pummeled straight into me. I went flying, flipping over in the air and landing. Hard. I vowed never to snowboard or ski again. 

But when my family recently went on a trip this April to Whistler, I felt the urge to try snowboarding again. This time, my dad promised to teach me. As we arrived in the snowy village, a surge of anxiety came over me. What if I fell hard again? What if I never made it off the slopes? Going to the gondola on my first day felt like a humongous step outside my comfort zone. 

As my dad taught me the basics, some confidence unlocked within me. I ended up standing on the board, turning, and stopping with my heel. I felt like I unleashed something that was so far away from me all this time. It was still scary, but I managed to go down the bunny hill multiple times. Each time, I felt myself grow a bit more comfortable. So much so that I went snowboarding for three more days! After four days of snowboarding, I still felt fearful and a bit uneasy, but I managed to conquer the fear that I thought I would never get over. 

With writing, I was also scared. Scared that my idea wasn’t going to work, that my writing just wasn’t good enough, that my vocabulary was boring, and so many more things. When I look back, I realize that those fears were very natural and that every writer goes through them. Just like a beginner snowboarder looks at the hill and wonders whether he will ever make it down. 

Sharing my work for the first time felt like digging my heel into the powdery snow. I was scared of feedback, what people would think of my work. I worried that I would “fall” and that my writing would have no value—like a snowboarder who doesn’t know how to turn or stop. Each time I shared my work, it got a bit easier. Until my confidence grew, and I began to see the good things about my writing, my strengths that I overlooked. 

Because even with snowboarding, I realized I did have some strengths—a good sense of control and the basics. I was still the worst one on the beginner slopes, but there was something there, a potential to be unlocked. And I’m so glad I did it again—faced my fear after I once felt like passing out after a bad fall. 

In our writing, we’re going to need to take risks. That’s how we grow as writers, and it’s what will make us refine our prose, weave plot points together with more ease, and create arcs that draw people in. I learned so much from snowboarding about steady progress—falling, but getting up over and over again, even though it was painful to imagine the next slip-up. 

I think my trip in April was a sign to be more risky with my writing. I love to stick to similar tropes and styles, but I need to expand if I want to be a well-rounded writer. Maybe this means branching off from my usual genres, or just trying out a new POV or trope that I once avoided. 

All in all, this site fictiondipity is a big risk as well. I started this blog despite my fears, to give people a hope to pursue their love for fiction. Has any of my posts inspired you so far? I hope you can check out more of my blog, and keep going like you’re a snowboarder, one inch of the slope at a time. Eventually, you’ll reach your destination. I promise!