At left, public image of Hemingway writing away at safari camp in Kenya.
I'm cleaning-up some almost-ready-for-submission stuff. There is a bunch of that lying around and the tedious mechanism of "writing" rather than "telling the story" is all that is left.
"All."
So, drafts upon drafts. I've got a couple of commitments to shove out the door in order to return to the non-fiction. Nothing like wanting to do "project A" to make "project B" loom as suddenly quite important!
So, taking a piece, taking it apart, and putting it together again sweating every word choice, line of dialogue, omitted or included scene.
You tell the story on the page -- you make the mess. You write the story -- you clean it up.
It works that way for a lot of us. It's worked that way for decades and decades for a lot of other writers, too.
Not a bad gig if one can get it.
Hope your ink dries fast and doesn't smudge.
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