Practical Perseverance

Guest Post by Karen Ott Mayer –

Every writer has heard the same question: “How’s the book coming?”

When I’m confronted by this question, I mumble some vague answer to avoid a full explanation of what I’m really up against. After hauling this manuscript around for more than a decade since I came across the idea, the “what I’m really up against” took time to figure out.

As a commercial copywriter who has spent more than 20 years solving all kinds of problems on the page, I approached this project with little regard to how different it is to create a historical piece of fiction. Early on, I figured I knew what I was doing. I started drafts, started more drafts, researched more, and had a stack of nearly unusable fiction and the story still eluded me. One day it hit me. I knew my story; I just didn’t know how to write this story.

In 2023, I stumbled across HNS online, and thankfully, the San Antonio conference. As I told more than one person, I felt like I had come home from a trip and found old friends on my doorstep. They all spoke my language. And so I came home even more determined to figure out how to approach this project and face the practical realities of persevering, no matter what. Over time, I found things to overcome, physically and mentally, that had really held me back.

Finding a Place

I have always been able to write anywhere: bars, trains, home, coffee shops, wherever. With this project, however, I found this wasn’t true. Recently remarried, my usual quiet house now had another human being. With relatives. And dogs. I knew that until I had a full space of my own for this book, real progress would still elude me.I found an empty church in town and begged the retired preacher to use it. I set up shop, spreading all my notes and outlines everywhere on the walls and floor. Stacks of research and books joined the party. I posted my word count on the wall, watching it like ticker tape as I worked. June, July, and August of 2023 passed, and the pages stacked slowly.

Accepting Slow Motion

At the end of 2023, another challenge came my way. My husband started losing weight. By early 2024, his diagnosis was clear. Cancer. All things, including the book, were set aside. Periodically, I visited the office, writing as much as I could. Like so many writers, I began to question the project and my sanity. How many people drag around a tome for years? When my friend Shea asked me about it, I told her progress was slow.

“Well, at least you haven’t given up and keep going.”

Does it count if you only write 1,000 words a month? Does a work ever get finished at a snail’s pace when pushed aside for elderly parents, a sick husband, and a full-time writing job? For someone who has always written fast and under deadlines, moving slower felt like failure and I’ve had to remember Shea’s words many times. Even now, as I’ve watched life’s challenges steal my time and energy, I realize even the turtle beat the hare, eventually

Recognizing a Knowledge Gap

Over the years, I’ve built a sizable portfolio and earned awards in multiple short story fiction contests. I’ve published hundreds of articles, essays, and poems. I’ve moved from straight journalism to digital technical work. But what I have come to realize is that I had little knowledge about this particular craft and genre. Although I had read James Michener since I was 13 and loved historical fiction, I didn’t understand the genre itself enough to write my story. Since 2023, I’ve made a conscious effort to read other authors I’ve met and read with a greater awareness of the techniques used by seasoned authors.

Taking a Risk

Perhaps like other writers, the projects that mean the most are those we hold close and silent. They belong to us and no one else. In this ownership is beauty–and a potential trap. The more we hang on, the more doubt is sown. Because I had worked on this project for so long, I really began to question its worth. When I read about the HNS First Chapters Competition, I forced myself to enter. For someone who has submitted for years, the lack of confidence was real.

I submitted and waited. The week my husband started chemotherapy, I received word that my entry was selected as a 2024 Silver Medal Winner in the Biographical Historical Fiction category. Finally, a bit of light shone upon this work that I had guarded for years.

Abandoning the Idyllic

When my husband finished his treatment in late 2025, I hoped to claim spare time for my novel. Fate had other ideas. In a short three months, we sold my parents’ house, moved them to a retirement home in between hospitalizations, and watched Alzheimer’s steal my father. As I write, my nearly 90-year-old father is in hospice.

How easy it would be to toss this work-in-progress on a winter’s fire and walk away. Lay it down and move on. Let it go and be free. But I can’t, because it won’t let me go. And so another year is here. I’ve inched past 50,000 words and wonder if I suffer from a regular tenacity or a particular perseverance. Am I any different from other writers? I don’t think so. Perseverance only works if practicality exists. Persevering means solving problems and finding friends who carry your belief in the unseen and uncreated. I have no idea what will happen next, but I know now, life won’t ever make it easy to write. As one person said to me lately, “You can’t catch a break, can you?” I smiled, thinking to myself, I’ve had all the breaks I want. This year, I’m finishing this novel.