Unfortunately, writing is not car racing.
After an unplanned month off the race track and parked in the parents’ garage, the authorial vehicle can not just be revved up to a full and thunderous start, roaring out of the old homestead’s driveway chasing the finish line at an all-out, reckless speed.
For me, writing is more like running. A full head of steam on the pavement after a month’s absence from the sport promises nothing but shin splints, groin pulls and ACL nasties.
“Slow but sure” may not win the race, but it will finish the race.
Sometimes, that has to be enough.