Hobgoblin

Writers are haunted by hobgoblins.
The page is not a place for ego, nor for illusions of grandeur; each page is the start of a new day and what was magical the day before more often than not is utter muck the next. The divine does not perch upon the writer’s shoulders every single session. If at all. Each writing project comes with its own cadre of demons and angels. Consistency for the writer is something hard to obtain and it is the main reason why when drafting or revising long form prose it’s best to have it such that its work is a daily feat. There is no taking time off when you’re drafting. Every day get to your desk and write. Goes for revision too, especially when revising a novel; you must be at the page every day to even grasp an iota of consistency. However, writers are string that require constant tuning. And yet it must be said that consistency is not the end but a means. It is not at the level of thought or even, I might say, content. Consistency for the writer is about tone and voice, and to a lesser degree because it is the byproduct of the latter, style. There will be days when there’s no helping you crawl from your hole. There will be days when you can’t help but fly. “I am God in nature; I am a weed by the wall,” Emerson once wrote. Writers are all bipolar this way. Some days high. Some days low. There is no consistency there only hobgoblins meant to haunt, and distract, and make a writer believe every day is the very same page.

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