A Marathon is just over 26 miles. Twenty-six miles and 385 yards to be exact. In the 1908 Olympics, it was extended from 26 miles by 385 yards so that the runners would run past the royal family's viewing box in the stadium.
Sometimes, writing is like running a marathon. You start with great anticipation and grand dreams—with the intent of finishing; many times, with the goal of finishing first. A writer begins slow and steady, sometimes, just like a runner. Or we may burst from the gate like a racehorse eager to move to the front of the pack. Then the pace steadies as we find a comfortable stride; one we hope we can maintain and continue for as long as possible until we must jog toward the finish line.
I'm 26.2K words into this marathon. A third of the way through. I've found my stride, and I'm hoping to maintain it until I must push for the end. The last three books I wrote, which also happened to be my first three, all ended differently than originally intended; than originally written. I know how I want this one to end, but the endings are always character driven, so we'll see where it leads. Either way, the goal is to finish, and finish strong. I don't expect to be first, although it would be nice. However, I will finish. And, as with every runner, that's victory enough for me.
God bless... xxo mag