editing

There is a particular kind of pain that comes with self-editing. It’s by no means ‘the sensitive artist’ kind of wistful pain. It’s not the “I’m shaping my masterpiece” in an attic kind of pain. I mean the slow, grinding realisation that the bits I thought were working probably don’t, that the chapter I felt quietly pleased with collapses under even passing scrutiny, that every fix I thought was so clever until it reveals more problems than solutions. I start with optimism. A fix list. Beauty. Clear intentions. All set. All reasonable. All achievable. Right. The First Problem: I Can’t See What I’ve Written TheRead More →