I’ve never been overly fond of the fable about the tortoise and the hare. While I understood the message (that arrogance can be your downfall, to always persist and do your best), I found that the tale itself was incredibly contrived. No way is the hare going to lose that race. But I suppose that isn’t the point, and I shall try to overlook that and remember that slow and steady wins the race.
Because I am the tortoise. A couple hundred words a day, eking out my novels one paragraph at a time. Building scenes slowly, putting scenes together into chapters, letting it unfold before me. It’s like a house of cards. If I despair and move too quickly, the whole thing might come tumbling down.
So I am determined to not give up the race. The hare might be prettier and faster and seem more promising at getting published, but just maybe slow and steady really can win. I am proud of what I have been able to get done. Those hundreds of words add up, over time, and time is one thing I have in plenty. Having recently passed my 25th birthday, I know that I’m not quite over the hill yet. If it takes me a year—two years!—to finish this manuscript, that’s hardly the end of the world.
Today I am lifting a glass (of tea) to all the tortoises of the world. May we plod ever onwards and win our races!
