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The thing is, I actually enjoy reworking my book. But I have bad days and good days obviously. On Wednesday I did ten pages and believed I was ahead of the game (for once). Then Thursday was a bust. Not in terms of the time spent in the creative inferno, but what I actually managed to accomplish.. I had decided to redo four illustrations and nothing seemed to come together. This really bothered me, so I switched to cooking instead.
While the Yorkshire puddies were baking, I sat down and had a think about things. I realized I have this awful habit of believing that if I just drive myself like a maniac, I’ll be able to finish my book in just one day. Realistically, this is just absurd—and it’s also hard on me mentally.
On the other hand, I’m convinced that you have to push yourself if you want to accomplish anything worthwhile. But there must be a happy medium somewhere, and I’m determined to find it.
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