Tammy Letherer This week the word perseverance has been scratching at me, wanting to be written about. It’s pestered me with all the doggedness you would expect from it. So here I am, struggling to come up with an opening story to illustrate what it means to persevere and why it interests me.
I don’t have a story. But that in itself is perfect. Because the essence of perseverance isn’t in the moment of triumph, realization, or reward. It’s not about the outcome. It is, by definition, the steady persistence in a course of action—and here’s the best part—in spite of difficulties, obstacles, or discouragement.
It’s natural, this time of year, to stop and look at our goals and progress, or lack thereof. I was thrilled to celebrate a milestone this year—the release of my memoir—but not so eager to think about how long it took me to get it out in the world (nearly a decade). This is a good example of my particular dance, or slow-footed shuffle, with perseverance. I may not like it, but I’ve had to make friends with it. And if you’re a writer, you do too.
When I talk with aspiring writers, one of the biggest challenges they say they face is in building endurance. It’s one thing to feel the rush of inspiration and quite another to slog through that pesky act of forming sentences.
I wish I could say it gets easier. Like everyone, I want a beginning, middle, and end. In fact, I’d love to be a punctuation fairy and run around placing periods at the end of brilliant, well-crafted thoughts.
But perseverance is more of a hard wire on an endless spool. It’s having the maturity to know that the crush you have on creativity is indeed crushing because there is always more possibility than progress. It’s being childlike enough to chase a carrot that dangles ever out of reach and be able to say “Gosh, isn’t this fun?”
Poor Perseverance never gets the limelight. Once it’s done its job, it steps aside for flashier words like accomplishment, genius, recognition, or talent. That’s why I think it’s time to show some appreciation for this steadfast companion.
Yes, I’m grateful for my ol’ pal perseverance. It may be the ugly stepsister, the boring uncle, the driest piece of turkey on the platter, but it’s helped me get here, to this day, when I get to hold a finished book in my hand.
Naturally, The Buddha at My Table has its place on my table, but its perseverance that I’m putting in the place of honor.
