They say those who can’t, teach. Similarly, I say those who can’t summon up the motivation to write, edit.
I’ve been unmotivated for more than a decade.
Don’t get me wrong. I still want to be a writer. I’ve wanted to be a writer ever since the book I wrote, illustrated and made out of papier-mache in the fourth grade won a blue ribbon in the school art show. My teacher wrote a note in the inside back cover that read, “This far surpasses what I thought fourth graders could do.” After I looked up the word “surpass” in the dictionary and figured out what she was saying, I was hooked. My life had meaning. I was going to be a writer when I grew up.
But so far, I’m an editor, not a writer. Sure, I’ve been working on a novel for, oh, five years now, but I make my living cleaning up other people’s writing. Over the years I have developed a keen appreciation of clean, concise, grammatically correct writing, as well as a deep hatred of unnecessary commas and the phrase “comprised of.”
Welcome to my blog.