Revisions

I tweak nearly everyday I write. It may be a word choice there, taking out an extraneous "the", or something else equally small. Sometimes I insert things for clarification or change sentences around. But almost always, it's addition, not subtraction. It's extremely difficult to delete something. After I write, it's like the words take on life and I can't bear to snuff it out. I know this is silly--words are just words if they have no power--but I didn't really think about this very hard until recently.

It's like The Lord of the Rings or The Mysteries of Udolpho--they are such great works of genius, but yet there are certain passages that move so slowly that sometimes I start to resent the wondrous landscapes for its trees and windblown moors.

And if critics complain about these works, wouldn't it be even worse for me to ignore these feelings?

In conjunction with this, I've been trying this week to reconcile the new and the old storylines. Some scenes will have no place, but I need to finish the join soon. Ch6's events depend on it.

Today's sentence:
The way she stood, the way her hand moved when she brushed hair out of her eyes, the way she seemed to look at everything to remember it for later—she was like a sunflower in the midst of a lavender field.