Desire | Discipline | Structure

Desire, discipline and structure were the basis of my dad’s basketball coaching philosophy—and his formula for success in life.

As a coach, he planned and timed his basketball practices to the minute with D.D.S.

And early in his career he earned his master’s degree, while teaching and coaching, with D.D.S.

He understood that we are more likely to reach our goals when we have desire and we hold ourselves responsible to a game plan.

He applied his formula to pretty much everything

From mowing the yard to staining the deck, from washing and waxing his car to sending a “Grandpa Says” message to his grandkids on Monday mornings, Dad was all about planning and details.

As a fan of basketball and food, he even planned his annual road trip to the Illinois Boys’ State Basketball Tournament with D.D.S., right down to knowing which of his favorite restaurants he’d eat at on which days—and what he would order.

A source of pride and a family connection

Two decades ago, Dad told several of his young grandchildren visiting for the weekend that he’d pay them a penny a stick to help clean up his yard. When they were done, he praised all of them, and the hardest worker received a D.D.S. award.

A couple of those grandkids now have D.D.S. tattoos.

D.D.S. became shorthand in our family for knowing what needs to be done, making a plan and following it to completion. When any of us shares a recent achievement, someone is sure to applaud the D.D.S. it required.

On our first Christmas without Dad, my daughters presented each of us in his immediate family a framed keepsake of his philosophy, written by his own hand (in the photo above).

D.D.S. and writing

For twenty years, my life was full of joy raising two children and supporting the teams my husband coached, but it didn’t leave much time for my own pursuits. When my younger daughter went to college, I realized that all I had to do was go to work. I could choose how to spend the time before and after.

I started doing cardio exercise again and signed up for a yoga class. I felt great.

I tried teaching a communications course online to see if I wanted to make a career change. I did not.

And I started writing the book I’d always wanted to write.

I wasn’t sure where to start or where it would take me, but I decided if I could get up at 5:30 to shower first so my teenagers could sleep a little later, then I could get up at 5:30 to do something for myself. I worked out two mornings a week and wrote the other three.

It was slow progress writing three hours a week, but it was a start.

I attended conferences and took continuing education classes to improve my writing and learn about publishing options. I discovered that to make progress, I really needed to write every morning. When I changed jobs, I had to get up a half hour earlier to get in that hour of writing.

Having never been a morning person, it was a surprise to learn that I love those quiet hours, knowing most people are still asleep as I turn my thoughts into sentences and my paragraphs into pages.  

With desire, discipline and structure, I wrote 90,000 words in eight years and was pretty sure there was a book in there somewhere. I spent a year editing and revising then shared it with a developmental editor who advised me to cut about 30,000 words to give my story more focus.

Working from home during the pandemic has added almost an hour to my writing time in the morning. I have used it to research and query agents and small publishers. I started my website and blog. What I learned at the conferences is true: it’s easier to write a book than to market it. And I don’t want to stop writing, so I now balance marketing tasks with writing blog posts.

I had originally hoped my book could be published in 2022 to coincide with the 50th anniversary of Title IX. I am not likely to meet that deadline unless I self-publish. But after all the hours and years of work, all those mornings of writing in the dark, I owe it to myself to see if I can be traditionally published first. I’m not sure how many queries I’ll send, but my first dozen are just the beginning.

I might adjust it next year, but for 2021, this is my game plan.

There will be more rejection than progress. And I’ll keep trying.

I have D.D.S.

Richard Maher was always ready to offer some words of wisdom. We all miss you, Dad!