It is. Everyone knows it, but it bears repeating. Writing is hard.
Even as I sit here, writing in my notebook with the loveliest of all instruments, a fountain pen, it’s hard and even annoying to have to admit how difficult writing can be. I have had an idea drifting around in my head for the past week, at least, that I just cannot seem to get translated into words on a page or screen. I hate it when writing is difficult. I despise it when the bifrost between my mind and my hands feels fractured and cracked, preventing me from weaving my thoughts into reality. I get frustrated and irritated, like trying to make a square peg fit into a round hole.
I know that, sometimes, just writing is the answer, whether it feels “right” or not but I truly dislike forcing words out. It feels just that: forced. I know that writing is work and work is hard. I’m not disputing it. I just…*stamps foot*
Come on, brain, work!