Yesterday when I finally sat down to work on my poem of the day, I was already feeling overwhelmed, frazzled, and stressed.
Here’s the thing though, if I waited until I was perfectly serene and inspired, I’d just never write.
That’s been the absolute-100%-most-important lesson that I’ve ever had to learn as an artist and writer. And I have to relearn it every single time I sit down.
I probably scratched in my notebook for nearly two hours. It was shitty. I kept writing.
By the time I had something I felt was at least worth the time I spent on it, it was much later than I usually stay up. Sitting to write is a practice like sitting to meditate. I can’t articulate why either is painful in the moment, but sometimes I reach a flow state and it seems to work, and even if I never attain flow, I always feel better after.
