Sometimes I feel like I’ve really botched it up.  Nothing I put down on that page is right.  The fantastic words I wrote yesterday are total dreck.  Especially with longer works. 

In a short story, there’s no time to go wrong.  But in a novella-length piece, when I start considering in subplots and side stories (not very many, mind you, just one, maybe two), it’s like the creation becomes the end of a nylon rope that’s fraying, and the more you try to twist it back into a tight, solid, interwoven thing, the more it unravels, spinning around and around as every little strand flies apart from the rest.

Sometimes I feel like this and wonder why I bother.

And then I remember the powerful, concise beauty of the written word, and I remember I’m a word-smith, a storyteller.  And that’s why I bother.


2 thoughts on “Botched?

  1. Thank you, McKenzie. I try very hard to make my work sound beautiful, and sometimes I don’t know if I succeed, so it’s nice to hear that I do once in a while. 🙂


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