Than yesterday, and the day before.
Same pain. More energy. But weak.
I didn’t expect much when I approached today’s writing. It felt perfunctory.
Then, I got going. In the past, I would flail for days, anticipating a revisitation by my muse, sometime after my symptoms would inevitably recede.
I would write for days, waiting for creative insights to return.
However, today, although I still feel crappy, my mojo reappeared. I wrote a thousand words, most destined for some place in my story.
I am excited, because these past six months, I have been writing in my journal about these episodic symptoms that set back my mind, every time. I knew I needed to overcome these ill effects.
Somehow, I trusted that the seemingly endless weeks of deep concentration would eventually pay off.
My second post back from today, I attributed my new ability to brain-rewiring.
My book is being physically wired into my brain, by my mind.
A first-time writer has more to overcome than a published author. Both are telling a story. But a new author has to figure out how to tell a story, before doing so.
A nascent writer’s brain is pure potential, until the secrets of success unlock themselves from past habits of thinking.
Until everything else in life became secondary to my book, I couldn’t appropriately focus my thoughts.
Until I could focus my mind, I couldn’t envision how to achieve that first draft.
Today, I can trust in the process. Just write every day.