There’s a million things on my mind today besides writing this blog post.

I’m thinking about my balances (no more positive than last time, but a perpetual burden on my psyche.)

I’m watching this fantastic TED talk about infidelity.

I’m considering what heartbreak is, and how much I hate online dating, and how my marriage failed. (I wish I had a link for those last few words but I haven’t been brave enough to write about it yet.)

In short, I’m not inspired to write this. I don’t want to. I want to go to bed and pull the covers up to my eyeballs.

Inspiration is beautiful and fleeting. A moment here, a scribbled note on a post-it there…there’s no work in it. And like affairs, we assume during this moment we are transcending our everyday life. Some spark in us has lit and all of our potential unfolds, just as we knew it someday would, with no effort on our part.

Here’s the thing, though. Inspiration is like a siren leading you to your death in vast seas. Inspiration can light a spark, but work makes the fire rage.

You can’t avoid effort. There’s no magic, inspiration included, that will make your novel type itself or your painting finish itself or your business start itself.

Waiting for inspiration is as good as saying “I’ll never do it.”

So give up on inspiration, and just do something. It might not be good, but it’ll be done.