Editing Me
I just submitted a draft of a dissertation chapter to one of my more intimidating readers. The chapter was written very quickly and will probably need dramatic editing. As dictated by my personality, I'm much more afraid that he'll be offended at how rough it is, and how quickly I was able to write it. There's no way to explain to him that I nearly killed myself doing this and if I had medical and dental insurance, would certainly be seeking professional services.
I have been told by reliable sources that I'm too quick to discard writing that doesn't seem to fit, and that I should fight harder to keep the good work that I've done.
My answer to this was to try and explain that I literally don't recognize what is good and what isn't. I'm the worst editor of my own stuff. I've a pretty good instinct for other people's writing, but my own is a mystery to me. And why should I get attached to something that somebody else doesn't value? These people are my sole audience. If they don't want to read something, why would I fight it?
"Kill your darlings" is pretty common writing advice. It means that you shouldn't get so attached to a turn of phrase or pretty passage that you wouldn't let it go if it doesn't fit into the work you are creating. I feel that way about whole chapters. I'm the Dexter of self-editing.
I mean that literally, too. When I was thirteen or fourteen, I had to quit ballet lessons. Ballet had become the linchpin of my self identity, and quitting gutted me. I spent several months in a deep depression, which nobody recognized at the time (mostly because I don't act out, behaviorally. There were no symptoms), but finally I realized something. Although I could no longer dance, it was time to let the dreams change. And that was only possible with one absolutely essential piece of personal philosophy: I would always have been a dancer. Nothing could take away from me the truth of who I had been and what I had achieved.
I rewrote myself completely. Ballet became a pair of shoes hanging on my wall (they still fit. I try them on once in a while just for fun), and I became a reader instead. I kept that identity through my first job in a library, through my first three college degrees - all majoring in English of one sort or another - and into my PhD program.
And now I find that I cannot be a reader anymore. It is time to let the dreams change again, but I will always have been a reader. For these decades, in this thing, this is who I was, and part of who I am going to be. I have achieved things, and will achieve still more.
I am strong enough to let go of who I thought I was.
I have been told by reliable sources that I'm too quick to discard writing that doesn't seem to fit, and that I should fight harder to keep the good work that I've done.
My answer to this was to try and explain that I literally don't recognize what is good and what isn't. I'm the worst editor of my own stuff. I've a pretty good instinct for other people's writing, but my own is a mystery to me. And why should I get attached to something that somebody else doesn't value? These people are my sole audience. If they don't want to read something, why would I fight it?
"Kill your darlings" is pretty common writing advice. It means that you shouldn't get so attached to a turn of phrase or pretty passage that you wouldn't let it go if it doesn't fit into the work you are creating. I feel that way about whole chapters. I'm the Dexter of self-editing.
I mean that literally, too. When I was thirteen or fourteen, I had to quit ballet lessons. Ballet had become the linchpin of my self identity, and quitting gutted me. I spent several months in a deep depression, which nobody recognized at the time (mostly because I don't act out, behaviorally. There were no symptoms), but finally I realized something. Although I could no longer dance, it was time to let the dreams change. And that was only possible with one absolutely essential piece of personal philosophy: I would always have been a dancer. Nothing could take away from me the truth of who I had been and what I had achieved.
I rewrote myself completely. Ballet became a pair of shoes hanging on my wall (they still fit. I try them on once in a while just for fun), and I became a reader instead. I kept that identity through my first job in a library, through my first three college degrees - all majoring in English of one sort or another - and into my PhD program.
And now I find that I cannot be a reader anymore. It is time to let the dreams change again, but I will always have been a reader. For these decades, in this thing, this is who I was, and part of who I am going to be. I have achieved things, and will achieve still more.
I am strong enough to let go of who I thought I was.
I'm trying to combine active verbs with your history. Say, I danced. Say, I read. I think you read during the period of time you took ballet lessons. Now, you write. Your history contains all these things, and dancing and reading will always be in your heart. If I'm correct, you started writing at the same time you took ballet lessons. Lives cannot be compartmentalized. Each of these talents, dancing, reading, and writing, weave through you mind and soul and and make up your forever.
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