Time is elusive. It doesn’t matter that there is sixty seconds in every minute, or sixty minutes in every hour, or twenty-four hours in every day… I could go on to weeks and months and years, and so on. Time is measurable until it gets to the value of time, hence how we spend the time we’re gifted. This is how something perfectly calculable becomes ambiguous. And when it comes to writing, time is a slippery slope. An elephant crashing through a jungle. A video camera stuck on fast-forward. Or even a melting drop of snow gradually forming the tip of an icicle. And to add on, emotions throw any amount of measurable time available into a heaping pile of stickiness (insert whatever sensory experience increases stress).

So, how do I battle this unwavering monster when I write?

First of all, for me, it’s a balance of taking the beast…