In Ten Distracted Minutes a World Begins: Smack Dab in the Imagination by Dia Calhoun

 What if the creation myth had gone like this:

And Whatever-You-Call-God said:

I’ve got to get that universe made. What a big project. I’m too tired today. It’s got to be perfect. Maybe a third cup of coffee, maybe I’ll put it off until I’m more rested tomorrow…

If you wait to write until you have the perfect room, the perfect golden hour, idea, state-of-mind, energy, rest, you will wait forever. Bringing your “whole self” to your creative work doesn’t mean bring your perfect self.

Your "whole self" is your most human self—tired, cranky, and distracted, when you're try to snatch a moment to write while the cat is crying, the phone is beeping, the neighbor’s infernal leaf-mower is blowing, blowing, blowing. That’s the place, one of them, anyway, that is real. The best writing is about the cracks in the mirror, the smudges on the eyeglasses, the burnt roast, the lost ticket—all the vulnerable moments of human life. Why not write from there if that's what you have?

Don’t wait for the perfect moment. Obviously, Whatever-You-Call-God didn’t. You’ve probably noticed lately that the universe is far from perfect. But would you rather it hadn’t been made at all? Not me. I’ll take daffodils, even if they sometimes bloom too early and get zapped by late frost.

 So, what are you waiting for? Go ahead. Take ten exhausted, distracted minutes and write something down. The world starts with mud.