When you’re shoveling shit, it gets tiring.
I sifted through some work I did about four months ago before I started my big book edit for Grand Central. It was soul-deadening. I had been writing and writing, trying to build up a good word count.
All that matters is that I get started, I thought. I just need to get words on the page.
Not so. Words on the page are no good in and of themselves. Those words have to be inspired, not forced. I’ve been reading Robert Olen Butler, and hell, he agrees with me!
Back to the drawing board.