You think that I--with my musical family, musical exposure, musical opportunities, and musical ambitions--absolutely love blowing into my metal tube (A.K.A. flute) for hours and hours and hours. You suppose that practicing is fun for me, all the time. You suppose that I want nothing from life but to keep blowing and blowing and blowing. Unfortunately…you're wrong. Sometimes, practicing drives me crazy. Why? First, whenever I'm not playing, I feel like I should be playing. And since I can't play all the time, a cloud of guilt hangs over me. Second, I am not a perfect player. I make mistakes. I haven’t mastered certain finger patterns. And worst of all, sometimes I pick up my instrument, blow…and my tone--the color of my sound--is terrible. Third, while my lungs are pumping air in and out and my fingers are whirring up and down the keys, my brain often says, “Why are you doing this?” 

I teach writing in our homeschool co-op.  One of the first things I try to impress upon my students is that no one is born a good writer.  The ability to write well is not a mysterious gift-  it is a technique or skill that can be learned with diligence and practice.  (Lucille Vaughn Payne explains this brilliantly in her highly-recommended little book, The Lively Art of Writing.)