I am surprised by my ability to write, today. I hurt.
Not bad. Because, I can write. But, when I have painful days that are not bad, I sometimes ask why I should bother.
The answer is that I never know what will happen after trying. Each day of practice is another chance to crack the hard shell of the walnut. The meat is tasty. Yes.
I just wrote a passage for the narrative that forms the basis of my book. Today, I can hold my head high. On my pillow, as I drift to sleep.