Good Work Takes Time

I prepped a new post for the blog. I got it all formatted, and then I remembered that I’d been meaning to submit to a literary mag with a deadline at the end of the month, so I reformatted the draft and sent it there instead. Realistically, I know its chances of being accepted are slim, and the submission portal instructed me to now wait six months before inquiring about its fate. That’s the problem with ambition: it makes you dissatisfied with what you have now. So still, no new blog post.

Capitalism and grind culture keep whispering that I should have something to show for my effort, and if I haven’t produced a product yet, maybe I’m not really working. But good work takes time. It doesn’t always follow a linear path of development and it’s not always ready when we want it to be. Processes are more difficult to share than outcomes, because outcomes are consumable whereas processes must be experienced.

So join me, won’t you? I’ll make us coffee in the morning, too strong, and then we’ll sit in the living room and write by hand for a while. Three pages is a good length, though if we’re really feeling it, we can linger. Kitten Keana may stop by, and we’ll have to distract her from scratching the couch or pulling puzzle pieces off the coffee table. If it’s nice out, we’ll open the front door so she can stretch in the sun on the front porch. If it’s winter-cold and we need something to warm our spirits, I can light the wood-wick crackling candle I got for Christmas.

Let’s see what stories we discover.