There is a grit, a strength of will, a determination inherent in the work of writing that has NOTHING to do with art, inspiration, or the wonder of making story.
The discipline of sitting down to write must not be predicated on “feeling like it.” Our feelings can’t be trusted to guide our actions when it comes to getting work done.
Our feelings are not our ally. If left alone in the front seat, our feelings will drive us to a premature and fattened ruin.
If I did what I “felt like” doing, I would sleep till 9AM every day, get up and go out to breakfast, come home and read for a couple of hours, take a nap, go to dinner with friends, stay out late carousing, and return home to crash and do it all again. There would be no productivity. No accomplishment. No craft. No tending to the soul.
Well wrought fiction doesn’t come from inspiration or a great idea. Good fiction is the result of putting your butt in the chair to write when there is no inkling of desire and no likelihood of progress.
It doesn’t matter how you feel.