Monday, August 19, 2019

Old Thomas Stearns and I Have the Same Problem

". . . The only wisdom we can hope to acquire
Is the wisdom of humility: humility is endless . . .
Trying to use words, and every attempt
Is a wholly new start, and a different kind of failure
Because one has only learnt to get the better of words
For the thing one no longer has to say, or the way in which
One is no longer disposed to say it. And so each venture
Is a new beginning, a raid on the inarticulate . . .
For us, there is only the trying. The rest is not our business.”


-- T.S. Eliot. The Four Quartets (East Coker)

In other words, I'm back to Plan A and have worked my way, slogged my way, through a substantial bit of what I felt (thought would be too strong a word) I should be doing to outline  the mystery I plan / intend / hope to write.

On my own 'graph' of how to measure 'success' as a writer, this effort would qualify as discipline / effort. There is nothing in the rules that says I can't be grumpy about it.

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