The dragon

I like to think that most aspiring writers are a lot like me. The kind of writer that packs up the laptop, takes it to a coffeehouse, turns it on, and then proceeds to stare at a blank screen for an hour or two before packing up the laptop and heading on with life. Occasionally I'll put one or two sentences down, and then start listening to the conversation next to me, or start feeling guilty that I didn't go to a coffeehouse that brews exclusively fair trade coffee. And then other times I'll just sit there in front of that damn blinking cursor, dreaming of winning the National Book Award and being interviewed by Charlie Rose.

Damn, I'm lame. But last night I came across a passage from some writings of Flannery O'Connor, and thought it was so good, I just had to share. Here's a picture of O'Connor, too, to give this blog some graphic elements (aside from the pulled pork sandwich that appears a couple of entries ago).

Here's the entry:

St. Cyril of Jerusalem, in instructing catechumens, wrote: 'the dragon sits by the side of the road, watching those who pass. Beware lest he devour you. We go to the Father of Souls, but it is necessary to pass by the dragon.' No matter what form the dragon may take, it is of this mysterious passage past him, or into his jaws, that stories of any depth will always be concerned to tell, and this being the case, it requires considerable courage at any time, in any country, not to turn away from the storyteller.

For writing something this powerful, I can forgive O'Connor her use of masculine language...