The Inchworm

One evening we were on the back deck eating dinner when I noticed an inch worm swaying on a thread in front of my face. He hung there dangling from the sugar maple over us, and then he began to curl up on himself again and again. He seemed to be getting nowhere but over the course of dinner we’d look up and he’d be a foot or two further up. Finally by the end of dinner, he’d climbed a good six feet and we watched him eventually crawl onto a maple leaf. To watch him, his progress was imperceptible. Yet all along he’d been getting there. The whole thing reminded me of the process of writing a book.