I've been in one creative field or another for the last 30+ years and the one constant I know of is that the only way to not feel like a hack is to make something, anything, and lose yourself to the process.
NOTHING BUT THE NIGHT (John Williams, 1948)
Even early, lesser Williams like this Dostoyevsky-style debut is more interesting than most of what's published today. Recommended, but not as a Williams introduction (that honor goes to STONER).
glimmers
Fun morning of playing with my electric metal shears and cutting up bits and bobs for the WIP, a prototype for something else (see: this week's earlier Replicate post for why I'm considering most of my metal things prototypes) with occasional glimmers of the writer coming out to play as I pick at the WIP over on that side of The Shed. Acceptance that my primary method is to go do other things while things percolate until a line or phrase shows up that fits and then bang the whole thing out while ignoring the guilt of not going about things the way I used to (because, clearly, that worked out oh so well). Out into society for a bit today, society being a waiting room and a book store and maybe an antique mall. Status: fit for public consumption, more or less.