I had a thought this morning. We’re always striving to write the perfect book or at least a very good book. But look at what we’ve got to work with: 90% of our writing time is when we’re exhausted, distracted, or depressed. That’s not exactly fertile soil for perfection. But it is a foundation for something relatable and real.
And the benefit we writers have which performance artists do not have is that we can continue to tweak and polish our work before we give it away. Over time, those 1-out-of-10 good days add up and we can eventually reach a place where the book is a distillation—a clarified product of only what’s meant to be.
But in the meantime, it’s best to accept the fact that imperfect lives beget imperfect stories, and it would be wrong if it worked any other way. That, at least in theory, is a freeing realization.
I tend to believe that creative inspiration comes to us when our guard is down, when we're least expecting it. "Shower thoughts" is a real phenomenon, as is the flash of enlightenment in line at the grocery store. I wrote 90% of my historical trilogy in my car commuting to work because that's when I had unforced time to think about my story, but also that's when my mind was free and scenes or dialogue would pop into my head. Were they perfect? Definitely not. But they served their purpose.
Exhausted, distracted, depressed shouldn't matter to the core creative process. Sitting down in front of a keyboard and willing perfect plots and prose to come almost never works. Give me the imperfect product of imperfect situations any day. Those, as you say, I can shape into something more later. But at least I've gathered the raw materials. You can't polish a diamond until you've mined it first.