Line editing

My writing process is messy. I do what writing teachers warn against: as I go along writing a new chapter, I recall a previous chapter and go back to edit it. No doubt this makes the whole project take longer. And longer. By the time I give my manuscript to an editor, I’ve likely gone through the whole thing at least fifty times. Only to repeat the process. Not from scratch, mind you, but all over again. And again.

My bet is that even after Shangaied is published, I will still be able to turn to any page and tweak a word here or there. If perfect is the criteria for publication, read Shakespeare, listen to Beethoven. They (and who else?) are the immortals. Did they feel it when they did it? Reaching perfection, seeing/hearing/feeling it there in front of them must have been an incredible moment. An amazing high. Thanks to their considerable efforts, once in a while, we get to see, hear and feel it too.

I understand that I am not one of them. Perfect is beyond me. What I can offer is only my best. Hoping that it resonates, reveals and is appreciated. When what I’ve written is good, it’s hard to hold still. I get up and go for a walk. Maybe what I feel is beyond myself, my skin, my thoughts. Surrounded by creation, perhaps we are imbued to create: to be in conversation with what surrounds us, and to share it.