This year in May, my dream of becoming a published author will come true. But this isn’t something unexpected. This is something I strove to accomplish. Something I wanted so much that I never gave up on it. A goal I kept running toward no matter what obstacles got in my way.
It wasn’t easy, though. My debut novel is actually the fourth book I wrote. The first three didn’t quite make the cut in the eyes of the agency gods. Or was it I who didn’t make the cut? The early, naïve, amateur version of me? Probably.
But the point is: I never gave up. I wiped away years of tears, swallowed back rejection after rejection, and tried to get my breath back after those close calls didn’t pan out. And I just kept on writing. And learning and growing and learning some more. Because that’s what writers do.
And all the while I had one goal set: The peak of the mountain that I climbed my way toward despite the rocks crumbling over my head and the slipping of my feet. I knew I could only get to where I wanted to go if I didn’t stop. Because if I stopped, I’d just let myself slip back down the mountain to remain at the bottom, perhaps occasionally looking up and wondering if I would have ever made it to the top or not. But I didn’t stop. I expected to reach my goal, somehow. And I kept going. I persevered.
Did luck have anything to do with it? Yes, of course. It is this careful combination of luck and perseverance that gets us to where we want to go. And it’s getting me where I want to go.
This journey was not unexpected. The twists and turns and ups and downs, perhaps. The ‘when’ of it was always a question, of course. But the journey itself was absolutely expected. And I’m almost there.