You can’t be a writer unless you’re willing to hack it to bits and mow down those darlings as they run for cover. Okay, maybe that’s a bit melodramatic, but writing is an ugly business even if you never resort to using blood instead of ink. Editing exhausts me. Not in the way toiling away in a field exhausts a person, no. I’m not likely to have heat stroke at my computer. In many ways writing is paradoxically cushy–a/c, coffee, indoor toilet, all that stuff. But deciding the fate of nonexistent people is weirdly taxing. Oh, woe is me. Well, what might really be taxing is listening to a whining writer…wait, what is it you do all day?

Oh, and did I edit this post for errors? Nope. ha-ha-ha–take that spell check!