Writing is labor. No two ways about it. But when it is successful it looks like magic. We all have some idea of the magical mystical experience of writing. What it will look like when we are “really” creating, when we can do it full-time, when we’re successful at our efforts, but in terms of what the writing life feelsl like our imagination and reality rarely match up.

Case in point, I had a successful writing week. I met my goals. But I did it in pockets of time then rushed off to other tasks. When I look back over my week I can barely remember the impact it made because of all the other competing issues, concerns, and activities.

We often want to “feel” like writers and judge ourselves when we don’t. Honey, so far it’s not feeling like that. It’s feeling like stealing time–I feel like a thief, lol. But if I steal enough time, I end up with a book. Ta-da! That is truly magical.

I’m simultaneously in love with the process, questioning the process, and confidently striding forward with my plan in hand. Feeling, doing, and being all things at once—that’s a thing. It’s called modern life, art-making in modern life.

With the old folks, if you complain to much about how you’re feeling they don’t want to hear it. Did you get it done? they ask. And if you say, yes. They say, Good. The muse is much the same. She isn’t here to stroke your ego and make you feel good, she’s here to guide you to birth work. If you’re making something, you’re winning. F—k your feelings. Track your progress and make the work, even if you have to go through some mood swings to get there. As my father said at his writing worksop, come on in, but leave your feelings at the door.