I have a difficult time editing anything I write. It’s probably why I’ll never become a popular writer. My words are always meant for me and only me to fully understand. It’s because when I read them, my mind captures the moments I’m trying to create. I already have everything outlined and detailed in my head so that I don’t necessarily have to do it as I write everything down in front of me.
When words and stories are edited, they become generalized. They become conformed to be accepted and understood by the public. I guess I’ve always been kind of a rebel. You can look at my collection of felonies and misdemeanors. I don’t follow the trends all too well. When someone tells me what to do and how to do it and I’ll achieve great things by following these steps, I’ll take like 10 steps back. Then I’ll do some twists and turns until I wind up in a completely different place and a loss of memory as to what I was trying to accomplish in the first place.
I’ve been trying to write a book. Well, 3 actually. I’ve been trying to write a book for years now and only recently have I seen any kind of chance for one to be completed. It makes me nervous. Like, what am I going to do to stray off course this time?
It’s already proving to be difficult. Going back to a story that reminds you of all the things you have left behind…That is what writers do. They relive all of their moment. Again and again and again. With those moments comes all of those feelings–the anxiety and pain and love and desire. I’ve already managed to get it down on paper once, editing only makes it that much more difficult. I don’t want to feel it all over again.