Keep taking chances. Keep going. Keep, keep going forward.~E-mail from a good friend
I'm more of a tortoise. The hare wears me out. Exhausts me. I need margin. A slower pace. At times I feel guilty about needing to move more slowly in life, feel pressure to accelerate my pace. Get it done faster. Especially with writing. There are now programs you can sign up for where you write a novel in one month. That makes me want to faint. I couldn't do it. Don't want to do it.
It's taken me three years to finish my current novel. Thousands and thousands of steps. One by one. A loyal tortoise, intentionally ignoring the hare, even though I see him out of the corner of my eye, rushing past and waving. Urging me to join his rapidity.
And what about you? What is your pace? I know there are many hares out there. I love hares. Admire their energy and enthusiasm. I just can't be one.
I like the slower pace. Need the slower pace, need to relish the beauty of the pathway. Enjoying the leaves changing color, the sun gliding through the pines. Allowing images to settle in my bones that bring warmth and comfort and delight, even if only for a few moments. Last week I drove over a bridge and looked out over the marsh, the blue-green water glinting and winking. Egrets waded, their whiteness like pure hope. This is the joy, for me, in continuing to embrace my slower pace amidst the thousands and thousands of steps. Not just writing steps, but life steps too. Life is daunting.
And I did reach a place I desired to go. Crossed the finish line. I sent my manuscript for its professional edit. There are many more steps in the process to publication. Today, though, I'm savoring the vista at this location.
Much love and many blessings to you, whatever your pace. There is no right or wrong. Just heed my friend's exhortation. Keep taking chances. Keep going. Keep, keep going forward.