I am by no means an experienced or a good writer — at best I would classify myself as doggedly not completely shite — so I won’t arrogantly pretend I have any sort of interesting or useful insight into the writing process that hasn’t already been deconstructed or promoted to death by writers infinitely and demonstrably more capable than me.*
What I will take a moment to write about, if you don’t mind, is that utterly fantastic feeling of having a productive day when words flow and fragments connect and structure takes shape. Magical. Completely awesome. I just had one.
And such a relief, too, after (inevitable) days of being totally unproductive or (more often) days of being just productive enough to not beat yourself up but knowing deep down inside that you could’ve produced a lot more.
I hope one day I can nail exactly the conditions that feed into having such productive days and how to create them, but every time I reckon I’ve got the balance of distraction-free environment, preparation, coffee etc. just right, I more often than not mark up another fail day. It seems headspace has a lot to do with it, and that so much about getting into that headspace is beyond my (easy) control. I’ve had productive days when I thought I felt like crap and unproductive days when I thought all the planets had aligned.
Anyway, I doubt I’ll ever work it out. Whatever. Might go crack a beer.
* I mean, just look at that sentence