The power of persistence

Yesterday I talked about writing 2 500 words every day, publishing a 7 500 short story twice a week, putting together a collection of shorts every month, and adding to a monster omnibus collection that will eventually be thousands of pages long.

Kindle, Kindle Unlimited, the readers and the gods themselves will reward persistence. I haven’t been pushing out 2 500 words every day – nothing like it! – but I have been writing something every day, even if it’s only a couple of sentences of outline. Every day, the project moves forward. And every day I write a blog post.

Every day the young man walks up the village street, past the railway station, past the kiosk where the tobacco and the lottery tickets are sold, past the travel agency with the posters of far places, past the Church of Eternal Hope, past the motor showroom where the shiny limousine is displayed, past the realtor’s window, past the gates of the park along a track worn smooth by the people of the village bringing their prayers and wishes to the ancient stone god.

Every day, he falls to his knees before the statue, looks up at those wise old stone eyes, and implores the deity, “Please, let today be the day I win the lottery.”

Every day for fifty years. The radio never announces his name. It is always someone else who is the lottery winner. The old man never gives up. Today will be the day. He will scamper down the hill, walk into the motor showroom, buy the limousine, drive to the realtor, buy the big house, walk into the travel agency, and do all those things he has dreamed about for so long. Every day, he lives in hope as fresh and as bright. But the lottery is never his.

Finally, one day the statue comes to life. Groaning, the old stone head swivels, the eyes fix on the terrified but hopeful gaze of the man below. The god speaks:

“Help me out here. Buy a ticket.”


Photo by karatara from Pexels

writing ,

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