Progress not in miles, but in inches

I’ve counted my progress not in pages, but in sentences. It’s six o’clock, and I’m struggling for just twenty more lines. Twenty more lines will get me four pages, and I can throw in the towel for today. It will be a relief. Four pages is progress, and on a day like today it’s as much as I can drag out of myself.
Well, as often happens on days when I’ve beaten my hands bloody on the metaphorical wall, that last desperate effort when I was dead tired, discouraged beyond measure, and hadn’t give up on anything but a pyrrhic victory, is when I get the most pages done. It’s almost like all those false starts, thrown away pages, had to get out of the way to let the good stuff through. Whatever I have ten pages for the day. Ten pages, respectable, and very happy to have it.