Is This Fast Enough?

Aug 7

What My Grandmother Taught Me About Keeping Going

I remember visiting my grandmother in the nursing home.

She used a walker to move down the hallway, and one day, a nurse told her she was moving too slowly.

My grandmother's demeanor changed instantly.

She turned her walker around and began moving faster—straight toward that nurse.

"Is this fast enough?" she said, her feet picking up speed. "I may be getting up there in age, but I can still walk like the best of them."

That nurse never bothered her again.

I think about Grandma Cole every time I doubt myself as a writer.

The Quiet One

I've never been one to celebrate my accomplishments loudly.

I'm shy and quiet. I let others boast about their successes with as much fanfare as possible. During all the years I taught, I don't think I raised my hand once in a staff meeting. But others did—many times.

I'm an introvert who married an extrovert, hoping some of his confidence would rub off on me.

It didn't.

I'm still the shy, quiet person I've always been.

And writing this novel is my way of shouting to the world: See what I did!

Except that it hasn't happened yet.

The Internal Struggle

Maybe I'm not good enough, I told myself. Maybe this dream is too big for someone like me.

Of course, I've accomplished other things: a successful teaching career, a master's degree, a loving marriage, and children I adore. But everything before this novel had a clear path to success. I knew what to do. I knew the steps.

Writing a novel? This experience is a whole new world.

Sometimes I wonder if I have imposter syndrome. If I had an agent and a book deal, would it be too much? Would I run away from it?

I don't think so.

But that hasn't happened, so I can't judge that scene yet.

Moments of Doubt

Throughout this writing journey, I've had so many doubts. Some of my posts have documented them—especially when I couldn't even come up with a decent title.

But those doubts passed.

I've gone from days of being super excited about the project to days when I only wrote three sentences. Days when technology failed me. Days when I wondered if I should give up.

But something always nudged me forward.

That inside voice that said, Keep going.

And, of course, my small army of confidants: my husband and children.

The Pressure From Loved Ones

I remember the first time I told my daughter about my idea.

"Totally do it, Mom," she said.

Encouraged, I started writing on weekends—the only time I could find.

Inevitably, my daughter would call. "Any updates?" "How much have you written?"

The pressure I felt from a loved one almost threw me into a tailspin. And my daughter didn't even know it.

After a while, she stopped asking as often. My novel became something she knew I was working on but didn't interrogate me about. I could breathe again.

I regrouped. Stayed the course. Finished the complete manuscript.

Was it easy?

No.

And anyone who tells you it's easy is delusional.

What Keeps Me Going

My grandmother.

She taught me how to write a proper letter when I was young. We would write back and forth, and I loved writing to her.

She taught me perseverance. To never give up on any dream.

Those words come back to me when I'm down, when I can't think of anything to write, when agents say no, when I wonder if I'm unrealistic for even trying.