Why is it that what you wrote a month or even a few days ago and edited seemed fine (even brilliant) at the time. Yet, when you go back in to edit it looks moronic in review? Sometimes I write on hyperdrive, where what is going on in my head and my poor typing skills do not merge. If my brain could imprint on some software through telepathy would have brilliant work, but alas, am restrained to primitive type type type.
Plus, it is Monday. Wretched day, cruel day, heartless day. I wanted to stay in bed and watch Christmas movies (or Doctor Who)
I often wonder about my fellow writers from the past-the ones that had only quill or creaky mammoth typewriter with heavy keys, no delete button, no easy print. Just precious paper scrawled upon in the candlelight. They had it tough. I think I am babbling now. I have been editing and polishing so much my brain is soft from mental strain.
Alas, I will eat some chocolate and continue. I will finish book on a sugar rush.