It’s official. I suck at cutting. In writing, they say you have to murder your darlings. I’m not even good at murdering not-my-darlings. I hate to cut words. There, I’ve said it. It’s out in the blogosphere for all the world to know that I suck at editing.
It’s the end of my last semester as a student (unless I decide to do a Ph.D., which I’ve been more and more nostalgic for recently, but that’s another story and not a definite possibility at all ever), and my body is tired. I’m limping towards the finish line, and my headspace is a wreck because I don’t want it to be over, but I need to be done with life on an academic calendar and running at full tilt all the time.
I’m supposed to be cutting 15,000 words from my thesis now, but in reality, I think I’ve cut a few hundred, and added around 2,000.
I told you I suck at this 😉
This summer, I’m going to read lots of wonderful KidLit, and I’m going to be doing some really heavy reading for my memoir. Dante, Milton, some poetry…
But only if I can cut those all those words.