On days like today when I don't forge ahead very far, but make an important breakthough in my writing, I like to think of that story about James Joyce--was it Stephen King's book where I read this? Can't remember--where a friend walks in on him while he's at work and he's sitting, head on desk, in a posture of utter despair.
The friend says, "James, what's the matter?" And James says, "I've written seven words today." The friend says, "That's a lot for you. What's the problem?" And Henry James says, "Yes, but I don't know what order to put them in."
Alas, so often we don't have those seven words, even out of order. The important thing, I guess, is that you're at the desk at all. The position of despair is part of the job.
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