I think that I'm finally, finally, getting to a point in my own writing when I'm realizing that not everything I write is priceless. That whatever I write, no matter how "creative," isn't really worthwhile unless a reader can follow along. That of the many, many words that I'll write in this lifetime, only a fraction will reach an audience, and probably only a fraction should - just as we speak millions of words every year that are not interesting enough to repeat, so we writers write many, many words that are just not all that interesting.
What I'm trying to say is that I'm finally, finally becoming more pragmatic about the act of writing. Yes, wonderfully creative, divine moments happen during the writing process. But even the writing that results from those magical moments has to be edited into a format that is consumable by readers. Unless, of course, I just want all my writing to be journal entries to myself.
Photo: Harbin, China in July, outside the window of the hotel where my baby brother was married.
Wednesday, July 26, 2006
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