I hope I didn’t scare you with the title of this post. Almost a month has gone by since I put aside the first draft of The Book of Sharon. The time away is necessary for what comes next – a heartless dissection of it, and I’m ready.
As writers, we pour our heart and soul into our work, then the time comes to forget about it, followed by a cold stare before we are ready to slash it into pieces – heartless and purposely, not an easy thing to do but necessary. From this dismemberment a second draft is assembled. The process goes on until the story is as ready as it can be.
During this time, emotions run wild – from doubt, insecurity, uncertainty, and not wanting to let go, to perfectionism, pride, fear, doubt again, restlessness, exhilaration, incessant questioning … all of it culminating in exhaustion, and all of it necessary. Sounds painful and not too enticing, but it is what writers subject themselves to repeteadly, and beyond scrupulous consideration, and all for the love of the story.
A love affair with words, a crime of passion?
My next victim.
First draft of The Book of Sharon
Inkspeare 
I seldom throw anything away. I just try to find a shorter way of leaving it in. Unless it does nothing.
Yes, if it does nothing I take it out as well. On my first novel, I cut two chapters and a half that I felt did not do anything but description, and did not advance the story. They were just there, so they had to go. But I also end up adding, so it balances out, I guess.