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Yesterday I wrote something so disconnected, random, all over the place and shallow that I will have to trash it or 98% of it. And I smiled the whole time. This is really bad I said to myself. Yes I know I replied with glee.
The pride that I am sticking with a new habit is bigger than the desire to stop, just because it’s bad. It’s more important in the long run to stick with this habit than to hold on to the delusion that everything I write contains a good thought.
Bad work that we don’t care about sometimes has to be written down to make space for other things. It shouldn’t have the power to keep us from articulating the good work that is still somewhere inside.