Anne LeClaire

One summer, as she worked diligently to meet her publisher’s deadline, author North Cairn kept at her side a copy of “Endurance.”

The 1957 classic by Alfred Lansing is a narrative of explorer Ernest Shackelton’s audacious expedition to Antarctica in 1914, the stranding of his crew following the destruction of his boat, and his struggle to survive against daunting odds and save his men.

Shackelton, a demanding leader and dreamer, had planned to cross the then unexplored ice-bound continent by foot. Shortly into the journey, his ship, Endurance, was locked in an ice pack and then crushed by the weight of the shifting floes. His dream of crossing the continent was lost, his remaining goal solely to get his men out alive. In a desperate gamble, he split the party, leaving 22 on the shore of Elephant Island and set off in the ship’s whaleboat with five men in search of rescue. Their journey lasted 850 miles. Eventually all were rescued.

Shackelton became Cairn’s spiritual companion. Inspired, she used his example as fuel to finish her own project which, at that time, was feeling not unlike crossing a continent.

She had ten weeks to transform an eight-page book proposal, essays she had previously published on her subject, and mounds of research into a finished manuscript.

Her schedule was to work everyday from seven to noon, have lunch, and return to work until 5:30. She would then take a long walk, have dinner, fall into bed, and read another chapter of Lansing’s book. Riveted by the story, heartened by the courage of the men, she also resonated with the element of the transformative impact of isolation in a natural setting, a theme which paralleled one in “By Monomoy Light,” her book about the time she spent alone one summer on the wildlife refuge off the coast of Chatham, (Northeastern University Press, 1999).

“These men had nothing ahead but the prospect of death, and I took from their story information about the process of persevering,” she says. “They had already been through so much and, exhausted, they had to make this last journey or die. They went though hell and lived.”

That sounds a lot like what writing a book can feel like.

Writing any book demands endurance. It requires a surprising amount of physical strength and dogged emotion resiliency. In Cairn’s case seeing her project through to completion also called for an almost lock-jawed stubbornness in the face of disappointment. Mid summer she learned the book’s acquisition editor was leaving Northeastern Press. The project was turned over to an editor unfamiliar with it and occupied with the manuscripts of his own authors. Discouraged, Cairn turned to Shackelton. Good, God, she would tell herself. If these guys can get through this, I guess you can finish a book.

Shackelton’s family motto was Fortitudine vincimus. By Fortitude We Conquer. This axiom is not only eerily prescient for his Antarctic journey, but seems a fitting epigraph for writers in for the long haul.

Completing a four or five hundred page manuscript means creating, forming and shaping material, then editing and revising it, sometimes four or seven times. Often, it means doing battle with the personal demons not yet faced. Or reengaging those faced in the past.

Inevitably, it means dealing with the vicissitudes of the publishing business. Editors leave publishing houses, conglomerates swallow up houses and writers are set adrift. Sometimes it means dealing with all this while experiencing death or divorce, illness or loss in one’s personal life.

No wonder fortitude is called for.

Passion and enthusiasm drive a writer to the desk, as does love of words and story, but to stay the course, stores of physical stamina, emotional tenacity, and mental toughness serve a writer well. As does patience, a necessary component of fortitude, I think, as it suggests acceptance of one’s self and tolerance for the process.

As North Cairn discovered when she turned to Shackelton, a mentor to instruct or inspire one in these matters helps. Writer might do well do hang the Shackelton family motto over their computers.

Fortitudine vincimus.

By fortitude we conquer.

Or as novelist Elizabeth Berg, puts it in “Escaping Into The Open,” her book on writing, “If you want to ride, stay on the horse.”