Taking It Slow

     We went away for the weekend.  I had to get out of town.  The frustrations of the day-to-day grind have really been weighing on me in the last few weeks and I desperately needed a change of scenery.

     We went to a fishing resort about three hours away.  We didn’t go to fish; we went to go be in a cabin by the river.  It’s the off-season, so there weren’t a lot of folks there and the rates were affordable.

     I haven’t been able to concentrate very well on writing here at home.  But yesterday, listening to great tunes in the calm of the cabin, I was able to get back into my story.  Oddly enough, I didn’t do much new writing, just a lot of editing.  Got a little crazy and slashed entire sentences and even two whole paragraphs.  

    When I start a new story, I basically just barf words all over the page.  Any thought, any description gets in.  It’s only after I’ve re-read the darn thing seven or eight times that I read a line and think, “what in the world does that add to the storyline?” 

     Mike’s always told me you can’t edit at the same time you write; that’s so true.  I’ve discovered that I can’t edit until I’ve read and re-read and re-read.   The final edition of Broken Road has 33,000 fewer words than the first draft, but that took thirteen reads to happen.   
     A few people are anxious to read this second story.  I am, too.  But the author is going to take her own sweet time.  She’s learned how her editing brain works and it’s not going to be rushed.