I’m at a point where inspiration no longer fuels my productivity, but I am not terrified by this, and I don’t kid myself with this notion that a good thought will make the work any easier.
Inspiration makes me love my work, and helps convince me that my work can be or feel fresh. But only hard, trudge-through-the-Slough-of-Despond work gives that inspiration any presence. I hammer and chip at my writing in order to make it look freshly molded, and devoting good time to writing is more and more difficult, when 15 hour shifts and 7 days a week have become a reality for me.
But then there are those times when I’ve beaten a scene to death with rewrites and small — probably inane or useless — revisions, that a single sentence like "I’ll pay you extra so you can buy your unhealthy ass some orange juice” fills my heart with more joy than I could possibly muster in the completion of five whole pages
Please watch Tsuritama