Adventures in Do-overs…Everything I Write is Terrible…

…the first time  I write it. Aaaaaand the second time. By the third time, I can usually read it without raising an eyebrow. After that I only have two or three edits left before it starts to make sense to the rest of the world.

You’ll have to trust me when I tell you that inside my head, I’m overflowing with insight and perception.I’m pretty sure somewhere deep in the recesses of my brain is a Nobel prize winning novel, but it’s buried underneath reams of untapped emotions,  random thoughts and 1980s music lyrics. Then when my brain cells align at just the write moment, and I think of something meaningful, it somehow gets lost in translation.

Sometimes I’ll write something, and I’ll just KNOW that it came directly from the depths of my soul. Then when I return to read it a second time, it sounds like the kind of thing I imagine a drunk eight -year old would write. (If an eight-year old got drunk-which they should never do.)

But that’s one of the many amazing and magnificent things about writing-the art of infinite do-over.

Have you ever had a moment where you said something then immediately tried to un-say it? (It almost never works.) I remember once someone called his child “honey” and I thought they said, “Penny” so I answered his question. It wasn’t until much later that I realized why he looked at me like I was crazy. By then it was too late to tell them, “By the way, I don’t think you have a pet name for me, I just didn’t hear what you said.”

In chemistry, if you try a random experiment with ingredients you have lying around, you could potentially blow-up your surroundings, if not yourself. But with words, you can  mix them in any way you want with reckless abandon. You can design a person, give them a history and a personality then throw them in the middle of a world you created. And if you don’t like the results?

Erase it.

For me, editing is like solving a puzzle. The words line up, single file on the page, waiting for you to find the story within them. And sometimes the perfect word comes along,  or you tangle your words in just the right way, and your writing takes on a life of its own.

That’s when I rewrite. And rewrite. And…yep, rewrite. Because when I find something worth saying, I want to protect it. I want to give it a chance to grow and give life to others.  I want it to say as much as possible with as few words as necessary.  And I want to give my characters a chance to be heard.

In the end, I erase more than I write. I change more than I keep. And I give up what I love as much as I throw out the bad.

I use my do-overs, over and over again.

And you read what’s left.

Some words. A few sentences. Some paragraphs. My heart.

This is my life. Edited.