The Problem With Satisfaction

I’ve got to do some serious writing in the hopes of making some scratch and that’s part of the reason I haven’t been posting stories. The stuff I post here is short, often taking up only half an hour of my day, from conception to post. It doesn’t seem like it should interfere with any other writing I want to do. Except it does. There’s this weird thing that happens when I finish something with which I’m pleased. I’m satisfied. There’s no need to write anything else. Once you’ve eaten and you’re satisfied, you don’t look for more food. And so by completing something, even if it’s only a couple of paragraphs that I like, I lose my desire in the short term. If I do any more flash fiction it’s going to come at the end of the day, after I’ve done other work. Satisfaction is a wonderful feeling, one of the best in the world, but it can stop you cold if you don’t manage it.