When the baby is crying like there is no tomorrow, after a long day of traveling with a fussy baby and a long night of crying before that, I start to question whether there really is all that much value to doing this every day, when days like this all I write is three sentences about why I’m not writing more. But then I remember that this is the seventeenth post in as many days, which is about 17 times further than I’ve gotten on past attempts to start blogging. And then I remind myself that the worst thing you write is better than the best thing you don’t write and I hope for a less exhausting day and maybe some more inspired writing tomorrow.