Here's the quote Susan sent to me:
To a writer, almost everything in life seems a special problem and
virtually insolvable...The whole process, actually, calls for so fine an adjustment of fact and
fancy, of hope and memory, that only a truly creative person is capable of
tackling it at all.
All I can add is, "ain't it the truth!" One's own writing is never good enough. I marvel at those who can write prose that sings, where every word counts and has its own story to tell. My friend Dan, to whom I will send a number of writing reference books in August, provided he lets me know where he is, falls victim to this writers' malady as he works his words, reworks them, and then works them again. He and I could spend two hours on a single paragraph when we had the luxury of time to do so.
Writing is a kind of music. If you read it aloud, which I believe is a must when you're writing for real publication, the writing needs to have melody and ryhthm. It needs to fit within itself and be one song. I am training myself to not be a writer, little by little. I am gathering the courage to delete, instead of read, the many writers listserv notes I receive during the day. No matter what delights the new holds, it's painful to say goodbye to the old. However, if one fails to move on, the journey is lost. I don't want to lose the journey. I want to travel the entire trip. There is still uncharted territory ahead for me. I want to experience it.
