Every marathon runner who completes the course will have a medal, only a few who complete a book will get published, but for both the finish line marks a great achievement to be celebrated with friends.
I spent my birthday cheering my daughter on as she ran her first marathon. After months of training she was ready, but as she set off with the other 10,000 plus runners I felt sick with apprehension for her.
Why a marathon? Why not another half marathon, or a 10k?
For the first ten miles her times showed she was running steadily, then nearing half way she slowed, the doubts set in, she knew, in spite of all the training, she could never reach the finish.
But her friends had come to support her, the route was lined with spectators encouraging the runners on. She kept going. Her pace picked up. She began to count the miles down. Then there was the finish line, the cheering of the crowds, the medal.
Waiting at the finish line, I was thinking about the novel I was about to start writing.
Why a novel? Why not another pocket novel or a short story?
I know I’ll start off enthusiastically; the characters are already in my head clamouring for their story to be told. Words will flow freely; until I’ve written around ten chapters and doubts will crowd in. The plot is too thin, the characters unconvincing, others have already written this sort of story better than I ever could.
This is where I need friends who understand to support me, to encourage me to plod on, keep typing through the sticky patch. Once those middle chapters are written, the pace picks up. I begin to count the chapters down. Until I can type The End.
Time for celebrations!
My daughter said, 'Never again!' I said, 'Never again!' But if you run, you go on running. If you write, you keep on writing.
Next time I watch my daughter run a marathon, I hope to be well on my way to finishing another novel.
Beth Francis writes short stories and pocket novels, and has twice been shortlisted for the Harry Bowling Award.