Most days, it is fairly hard.
Some days it is harder than others.
Sometimes it’s because I have genuine writer’s block. Sometimes it’s because I am afraid of what will come out. Sometimes it’s because I feel like the words ending up on the page aren’t meaningful, or the reader won’t appreciate them, or they’re just plain stupid.
I think it’s time to get back to the tried and true method of a long playlist of good writing music, ear phones in, and blinders on; then just forcing myself to write whatever comes out and be determined that the decision as to whether the words are necessary or appropriate or timely will have to made at a later time.
Why is it hard so hard for me to do that?
One word: perfectionism.
Being a creative perfectionist is certainly a difficult dichotomy for a writer. Without my creativity, I would not have the ability to write engaging stories. But without my perfectionism, even the most exciting stories could end up very poorly written, which is, in my opinion, far worse than a yawner of a book.
The problem is that the two don’t co-exist very peacefully at all.
So it’s up to me to insert said Personal Discipline into the mix and force Perfectionism to leave Creativity to her own devices.