Was I really doing anything?

Have you ever spent several hours with your laptop open and your fingers making the keyboard clickety clack only to ask yourself, “Was I really doing anything?”

I haven’t been in a particularly good headspace to think about my creative writing. I look at my novel, this beautiful labor of love, this has-so-much-potential pile of words, and I am not overly inspired. I added a few pertinent lines to the first chapter, inspired by my research. That’s it. That’s all I had in me. I wonder if I should try again in July: start fresh, clear the cobwebs, set new goals. Perhaps I just need a reboot.

And yet, every day I sit down in some seat somewhere and open the laptop and clickety clack away at it, so surely something must be coming from that. And it has. I was looking at the words I’ve written so far – organized based on my outline, to boot – and all of a sudden I have an Introduction section almost completely written.

I’ll still probably ask again soon, “Was I really doing anything?” as the workday draws to a close and I turn to preparing dinner. And although it may not always look like it at first, maybe it’s just a paragraph or a few lines, but slowly and surely the answer is “Yes.”

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