When my wife and I first moved to British Columbia, I was in bad shape physically. I could barely make it around the block, let alone do any hiking.
The first time we walked out on the Kettle Valley Rail Trail (a couple blocks from our home), I looked at the opening of the old train tunnel and said, “I want to make it a goal to get to that tunnel someday.”
I don’t know how long it took to get there. I do know that it’s been almost four months
and now, that tunnel opening is the point at most of our walks when we say, “Phew. We’re almost home.”
To me, when we go for a long walk or a hard hike and we get to this side of the tunnel and say, “Almost home” it reminds me that something that once seemed hard to obtain is now the relief moment.
Isn’t that huge? That a distance that was once a goal to BE the end of the walk is now the marker that we’re almost to the end of the walk?
That’s what writing a novel is like. You get a few words down, then a few more. Maybe at some point, you look at the end and say, “I want to get there someday.” Maybe you don’t even truly believe it, but you put a few more words down the next day and a few more the day after that.
Did you know if you wrote just 200 words a day, you’d have close to a full novel in a year? That’s how I’m taking my own writing these day—a step at a time. A few hundred words here, a few hundred there.
Before you know it, I’ll be at the end of one of the works in progress and looking forward to the next journey.