Last night I sat down, and started writing. I got about two-ish pages in, I somehow forced myself to not micromange/edit anything other than the current sentence I was on.
I'm pretty sure my writing style (when I'm not trying to make myself write like someone else) is far too corrupted by dry shitposting from British authors to be legible by other humans, but when I'm the audience that doesn't really matter. I suppose I spent so long in the project management and documentation weeds that it's hard to break the habits of wanting to have A Plan.
I probably won't be posting anything to my words account unless it's a short story/fits reasonably in a long readmore and I'm done touching it. I don't really think in the same way other artists post, where they discuss OCs and have all these big detailed relationships with their creations. Reading Rankin again for the first time in decades was a slap in the face that no, I don't have to have the world or characters fleshed out in every detail. I don't have to have a world bible or think about how the economy or healthcare runs in an absurd universe. These are all stupid things that people who make analytical videos on youtube care about cause sucking the fun out of things is what media's all about