Ben Lecompte is still swimming. He has completed day 122 in his determination to cross the Pacific Ocean. One hundred and twenty two days. And he is not even close to done. Yet he is swimming steadily, immersed in a journey in which the landmarks never change.
Water, water, water.
It must feel endless.
It must often feel impossible; this journey with the end still out of sight.
I am here at my kitchen table anticipating a day of errands, small items of unimportant personal business, phone calls and talking to my cat. Perhaps I will read, or even clean something.
I don’t plan on immersing myself in the Pacific Ocean today, but part of my day will also be spent navigating endless waters.
Because part of this day, and almost every day is now spent in endless, never to be finished editing.
This November will mark the two year anniversary since I glibly sat down and wrote the joyous first draft of my science fantasy novel.
Two years.
At the beginning it was so much fun. It felt creative and exciting to feel this story pouring out of me. I gave birth to characters, both good and evil, troubled and serene.
I invented new worlds. Re-framed everyday problems in new ways.
It all rushed out of me as if it had just been waiting for me to say Go.
That was the beginning. That was Ben Lecompte leaping off his support boat for the first time and embarking on his great swim. That was the moment he entered the water; fierce, strong, determined and enthusiastic.
Two years later in my own journey I no longer feel any of these things. I am still piloting day by day through this constantly changing yet stubbornly inflexible manuscript.
I try to make forward progress. Some days I think I am getting somewhere only to realize I’ve been pushed back once again to the same place.
I no longer feel strong, creative and enthusiastic. Now I’m lucky if I can just manage to muster up some dogged determination.
As long as I keep moving I expect I will end up somewhere. Eventually.
Keep on swimming Ben.
I’m thinking of you.