I begin pretty much every first draft and rewrite with Despair, with this will never get done and it will never be good enough. After x amount of minutes or days of these feelings, I remember my favorite inspirational quote, which always gets me: The only way out is through. But for me it’s often not just through, but through a Cake. The only way out is in fact to spend too much time making a Cake, and then to eat my way out of it, until it is Through, and I can Begin. (Happy first birthday one last time, dear Son. Vanilla layer cake with homemade Raspberry jam, unwritten scenes, and whipped chocolate Ermine frosting.)