Tough Solitude

Writing comes from the heart. The words flow easily and the page becomes a full tummy. You gorge on them until you can no longer cram anymore in. Feeling satisfied is entirely solitary. Though the joy and immense pleasure over spills into the senses and you are drenched in nectar. The task complete.

The edit spectre is in the shadows. Waiting patiently in the corner to clip, cut and steal all that has been devoured by the pages. It hovers teasing you, tormenting you. You know that all that work is going to be cleared from the feast. The energy, once percolating, slows and barely simmers. Suddenly you don’t fancy anything on offer. The sweet delicacies almost make you sick. Was it worth all that gorging?

Absolutely it was. For a few brief moments in time you relished the agony and the ectasy that is the writers lot. You are striving to be good at what you do. That little shadow sitting on your shoulder is the guide to another feast, but a more controlled, well thought out platter of treats.

All the while, there are other wordsmiths out there, already experiencing the heady delights of what impact that edit has had. They are snacking on the clips and cuts and eventually, the nourishment of their words is completely satisfying.

Yep, you guessed it I’ve had a tough week. The mist on the window to my words is now clearing and I have celebrated those who have helped remove the excess and bring me back to what the essence of my writing is. Story telling, so the reader can experience that gorging and come back for more.

This week I have celebrated the spectre of the editor. Without whom I may still be looking out of a misty window.

Thank you for dropping by.

Photo by Pixabay on Pexels.com