Writing is hard for normal people. It’s not physically demanding, of course, but writing requires a mental and emotional exertion that few people find pleasant. There are, of course, the rare few who find the act of writing itself a delightful form of recreation. But those are the oddballs, the outliers, the tiny minority. Normal people are intimidated by blank pages and deadlines. Stop feeling guilty because writing feels like a chore. That’s natural and normal. The idea that great works of literature spring from the pens of languid and casual geniuses between sips of latte in French cafes is an utter fiction. Ernest Hemingway — who frequented his share of French cafes — put it this way: “There is nothing to writing. All you do is sit down at a typewriter and bleed.”