𝕂𝕖𝕖𝕡 𝕤𝕙𝕠𝕨𝕚𝕟𝕘 𝕦𝕡: 𝕋𝕙𝕖 𝕔𝕠𝕟𝕤𝕚𝕤𝕥𝕖𝕟𝕔𝕪 𝕡𝕒𝕪-𝕠𝕗𝕗

Paris, 1er @hmcguirephoto

My IQ is nothing to rise from the dead about. 

I’m fine. 

A solid average.

The same can probably be said about my athletic performances.

Always a mid-pack. 

There is one thing, however, that sets me apart. Spoiler: it’s in the title. 

Consistency. 

I am a relentless endurer. 

Once I begin a task, I have to finish it. See it through. If I set myself a goal, choose a skill or knowledge, I stick to it. Even if I not a natural. Even if it makes me cry. Even if it takes years.

My ONE given talent is PERSISTENCE.

It comes very handy for revenge plots à la Edmond Dantes, or the wait-for-karma-to-drop moment.

But most importantly, I find that —if all else fails— hard work and patience can carry me through some of life's most challending races. Just one more mile, one more rep, one more day, one more page. One more failure ineluctably paving the road to success far far away in the distance. 

A consistent person must believe. 

A committed character, and I’ve said so before, is comfortable in discomfort. 

That is our power. That is our most precious talent.

I started writing 6 years ago. 

Not exactly. I’ve been writing since I could hold a pen. It comes as a need, not much different from breathing or eating. I’ve done it in many capacities during my career. Think-tank research, legal reports, volunteer articles for a Belgian SF mag, secret poetry, and yours-truly blog on photography. 

I am currently working on my 4th book, none of the first 3 having been published. Yet. 

On the question of whether I'm I being irrationally stubborn or commendably persistent, I suppose only time will tell.

After all, Dan Brown wrote a few books before his DaVinci Code breakthrough. The first of which he tried to sell door-to-door to local bookstores, boxes of copies in his trunk.

Words.

Love them all. Seeking the right one. Learning a new one. Wordling (yes, I do). Connecting a few to form an idea or a rhyme. Putting them on paper to give me a chance to understand how I feel, and on occasion, an opportunity to share it. 

With time. And consistency.

Every morning, I walk my dogs, I take the kids to school, I make an espresso (or three) and I sit in front of my screen for hours. Sometimes, the words come easy. Sometimes they fight me à la battle of Camerone (1863, look it up). Sometimes they play around in my head for hours without ever coming out like rowdy children on recess. 

Sometimes I write 3000 of them (good or bad), sometimes none.

What I do every time though, is keep showing up. 

Consistently.

While outlining and drafting my 4th novel, I query literary agents for my 3rd, and blog my way through this creative life of mine. 

It can be frustrating. Lonely too. 

But there’s also a world that lives on those pages, messages between those lines, and lessons that can’t be learned anywhere else. And I wouldn’t trade that for anything. 

(With that said, if you’re a literary agent, call me.)

H.