For me, November means heaps of leaves, savory home cooked soups, dressing in layers to take a run in the brisk air and of course, The New York City Marathon. Last Sunday we had a NY Marathon breakfast with some friends from our Monday night running group. We gathered around the tv to cheer on some local favorites - Cathleen Kelly, Brendan Barrett and Richard Velazquez - while we tracked their progress online. Meanwhile, my husband made everybody omelets to go along with the fruit salad and NY bagels. Somebody brought pumpkin bread and someone else, mimosa fixings and we were ready to enjoy the morning.
It was great to fun watch the race with a group of people who appreciate running. A tremendous amount of time goes into training for a marathon - months and months, to be truthful. Despite potholes, freezing temperatures, biting winds, rain, shin splits, a side stitch or an overwhelming desire to stop and go home, the runner presses on until he/she crosses the finish line.
As I watched the runners clock mile after mile, I couldn't help but think that writing a novel is another kind of marathon. Like a runner, the author must push on if he wants to complete his book. Of course, there are always distractions - the tv, the internet, the phone, invitations to dinner, a sudden urge to sleep. But deep inside the writer knows that if he really wants to call himself a writer, he must ignore all the diversions and press forward to the end.
This month hundreds - maybe thousands - of writers are participating in NaNoWriMo. That means they've committed themselves to completing a first draft of a novel by the end of November and it must be at least 50,000 words long. It doesn't have to be good. In truth, most of the NaNo novels are far far from polished. The idea is to get it down. Later you can go back and revise it, to shape it into something compelling, into something that perhaps even sparkles.
People tackle other marathons, too - marathons of the spirit and the body, such as disease, poverty and other misfortunes. And like those runners crossing the finish line, there's a wonderful yet painful joy in finally making it to the end, in knowing that they've endured or have accomplished something few others have done. I couldn't do NaNoWriMo this year, due to some pending deadlines on other projects but I may try this on my own sometime, just to see how far I get.
