There are days

when I cannot get my brain to focus on merely reading long enough to finish a single paragraph.

This is suboptimal.

And then there are days when I write a 3800-word rough draft of a short story in five hours.

I wish – truly, profoundly, deeply wish – that this was more even. I do not trust or believe in mulling over a thing and then having a burst of insight. I think that is, for me, a bullshit excuse to not get anything done. I trust steady work in small increments. I trust getting a little bit done each day until a project is done.

So when my brain works the other way? When I try each day to write this damn story and nothing happens and I mentally give up on the entire thing and then the draft just WALTZES IN LIKE A SMUG BASTARD? I am angry and resentful.

Because it won’t work that way next time. Next time, if steady incremental progress doesn’t work, there won’t be a last-minute reprieve. There will just be nothing. And if not next time, then the time after.

Last-minute creative inspiration is a liar, and even when it works in my favor I dislike it.


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