I have no idea really what the Flatiron Building has to do with this topic. Except that it’s probably my favorite building in this country, and sometimes I feel this…unusual. Kinda different from every angle. 1901 I think it was built.
I was home writing today, a break from the day job, and only cranked out 2K. I cannot seem to pull off those mammoth sessions anymore–you know the ones–you write as a woman possessed, the story pulling at you, compelling you… What the hell happened? One thing I realized as I reread what I wrote today. It’s not as rough as my first drafts used to be. Not even close.
I’m kinda yearning for the time when I used dialog tags and didn’t know what “telling” was and had no idea that it probably wasn’t a good idea to change POV every other sentence. Man was I cranking it out.
You lose a little something as you gain a little something. I guess learning is kinda like that. As a child, you can be a free spirit, not knowing the rules of what’s acceptable, what’s make-believe, what’s…okay. I miss that a little. I sure as hell miss that pace. I wonder if you can go back again, not self-edit as you go along. Has this happened to you as well?