I've concluded that staying up all night long (literally...not sleeping at all before the first restless wails of a child herald daybreak and hungry children) to write is VASTLY preferable to staying up all night long with restless, undirected energy that is borne of dissatisfaction with the pace of my book but no clear direction how to fix it. It's fixable. I know it is. I just can't back away from it enough to see the solution.
I'm closing in. Little insights strike while I'm driving, in the shower, vacuuming, whatever. Some of them break my heart because they involve taking a hatchet to a chapter I just loved when I wrote it and still love to read. But in the big picture, it has to go. If 3000 words can be pared down to 300, then it was too many damn words.
But hey, I'll always have my hard drive, right? Me and my many-worded lovers can meet for private trysts anytime. If I'm ever famous, I'll have a ton of bonus material to post on the website. Boo-yah!
You go, girl! You go!
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Such a hard process. I feel your pain.
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