September 1st. 2018
Dedication is something most of us
are familiar with, particularly when it comes to writing books. I often read of
authors in the book groups of which I’m a member on Facebook that demonstrate a
high degree of dedication in achieving significant sales of their work each
month. Last week I watched Adam Croft being interviewed. He maxed out his
credit cards, his wife’s and even asked members of his family to help him spend
more. He became a best-selling indie author (one million books sold) on Amazon;
so for him it worked. I don’t think I have that kind of dedication though.
Today I witnessed another kind of
dedication at the Guagemaster exhibition of model railways over at Ford in West
Sussex. The layouts were spectacular, intricate and painstakingly assembled,
lovingly detailed and worth more than you could probably put a price on. I
spoke to one chap who had a French railway layout, correct in every detail. He
told me that you needed to get everything right, and it can only be done by
research and looking for the proper rolling stock, vehicles, figurines and
model buildings. That struck a chord with me because of the parallel nature of
our hobbies: creating something almost real through dedication, research and
application. The largest display at the exhibition had twenty trains running at
the same time. I tried counting them but they kept disappearing through tunnels
and stopping at stations as other trains swept by. I had to ask in the end.
But there is another kind of
dedication, one I came across years ago that probably dwarfs everything I’ve spoken
about here. When I was a young man in the Royal Air Force, I was at a training
camp in a post-graduate billet. There were eight of us in a twenty-man billet.
In the single bunk where the NCO i/c usually slept was a Malaysian lad. He was
a Junior Technician and not part of our group. We used to see him from time to
time going through to the ablutions and we’d nod, naturally. But one day I got
a chance to talk to him. I asked him where he was from. He told me Kuala Lumpa.
I thought he would have lived in England so I asked if he joined the RAF over
there in Malaya. He said no, that he had to come to England to do that. I
thought about my time in the Merchant navy when the ship I was on did the Far
East trips taking Empire Builders (Diplomatic Corps) out, and bringing
immigrants back. I wondered if he had been on one of those trips. He said no. I
asked him if he flew over. He said, “No — I cycled”. Cycled! It took him three
months. He wanted to join the RAF and that was the only way he could afford to
get here. I suppose at that time I might have felt a little superior to him
because of all the immigrants I’d seen in my time on those runs and my young
age: probably thought because I was British I had some kind of right to feel a
little elevated. But this lad’s dedication had a telling affect on me; it left
me almost gasping in shock and complete admiration. It taught me a great deal
about strength of mind and determination.
So when I think about my own efforts
at writing, promotion, marketing and aiming high, I wonder if I really do
possess what it takes to get to the top. Has that young Malaysian youth’s
dedication taught me anything? I suppose I can take comfort in the fact that I have
written twelve full length novels, been traditionally published and am still at
it. I hope so. Wish me luck!
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