Maryson asked the same question about inspiration versus hard work again.
… muses are more fickle than the average woman. They tease and run away. What you have to do is say, “I’m not going to chase after her, and I’m not going to wait for her to come back. I’m going to sit down here and do some bloody work, until she gets back,” and if she doesn’t get back, you know… “damn, I’ve done a lot of pages, haven’t I?” While waiting for her, you work. Writing is work, more than anything else. If you have the ability, you can do it well. It is a craft. It’s like building cabinets, or building furniture.
A question about if his writing improves.
Well, I hope to god, ‘cause if I’m not, I’m a bloody hopeless case. I try to be better. I want each book I write to be better than anything I’ve done before. I don’t always achieve it. Sometimes I do, and sometimes I don’t. [At this point my memo-recorder apparently began having troubles recording, cause playing it now, the speed just seems to keep on increasing. Hearing Jordan talk in this chipmunk voice may be very funny, but it plays hell on my ability to type it all out.]
At one point, obviously I will reach the end of my abilities. That is, I will plateau. That I will have gone as far as I can go. I’ll still try. You never can tell. You might eke out another tenth of a second, you know.
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