A woman in one of my forums was ready to quit (a common feeling about this point, Day 10, in NaNoWriMo) and I had a moment of clarity about something other than sexually transmitted diseases and bath houses and shared this with her:
Wayyyyyy long story very abbreviated, I’m watching musicians and artists and analyzing how they do what they do. One sidelight that has come to me as a writer is that they practice. A lot. When they feel like crap. When they just finished a concert. When their paintings are on the wall of the Louvre. They practice. Thousands of their pieces (musical/artistic/glass/etc.) are abandoned or broken or tossed (sometimes in anger!) to get to that ONE that might make it through to anyone seeing or hearing it. Even that isn’t a guarantee.
Why should my art come any easier? Why shouldn’t I also have to write millions of letters, thousands upon thousands of words that are for naught, just to get to one phrase (not even a full sentence!) that might lead to something that resembles a story years down the line?
So I keep going. I hope you do, too.
So discouraged artist, composer, musician, athlete, and of course, writer, please promise me you will keep going.
I will if you will.
Navelgazing Writer 