For Monday, October 19, 2015:
“At the still point, there the dance is.”
T. S. Eliot, “The Four Quartets”
This is what I’ve been waiting for: the still point. There are some parts of this new novel-in-process — or any creative piece — that I can write through and into, even if I’m stumped for particulars when I sit down every day to start again.
Other parts, though, such as the final chapter or two, prove more difficult. I make myself present, even try to write some words, but it’s just not right. So I’ve learned to wait, I’ve learned not to get impatient or frustrated. The right words will come.
Last night they did. Not all of them, but enough. Sometimes all it takes is one sentence. That’s just what I received out of the still point: one sentence to start up the dance again.