Now I am become death, the destroyer of WORDS!

So it’s been some time since I’ve had a moment to post about. Not that I haven’t had the time to do so, but there hasn’t been much inspiration on the blogging front. (This isn’t an exercise in stream of consciousness, okay?!)

I’ve been struggling to put pen to paper – or these days, fingers to keyboard – on a substantial rewrite of my novel. I know what needs to be done, but finding the how has not been simple. But undeniably, a rewrite takes no less than a total disregard for the safety and well-being of your current prose with the intention of creating something better from the sawn and hewn shapes.

And what a slaughter it can be. What sort of maniac chops his manuscript into little pieces, moves them around, throwing some aside and filling the missing bits with DNA from a frog? Didn’t Michael Crichton teach us not to do that?

Alas… it has come down to this, the most grisly of deeds a writer can commit.

~Meredith Purk