This is literally me right now. With a dash of this:
And you want to know why? Because I’m revising a short story for an anthology. I would rather do almost anything than revise. I hate revising. And the real bitch of it is, I hate revising while also knowing that it’s the most important part of writing. Writing is rewriting—no. Good writing is rewriting. I get it. And my work is always stronger after the fact but that doesn’t change how much I hate it.
Revisions are the broccoli of the writing world to me. Which is actually a terrible analogy, because I love broccoli.
Revise: Revisions are the laundry of the writing world to me. It needs to be done, it’s necessary, and you’re glad when it’s over but it is the worst fucking chore in the world and it never ends.
See, that revision was worth it.
So let’s talk about what happens when I revise. I wrote a post on my writing process a couple years ago that people enjoyed, so hopefully y’all will enjoy this too.
Step 1: Open Word document. Hate everything.
Step 2: Caffeine.
Step 3: Look for literally anything else to do that will procrastinate revising. Clean out the refrigerator. Run errands. Sweep the porch. Alphabetize your DVDs. Look up random obscure facts on the origin of the phrase cat’s out of the bag.
Step 4: Go back to Word doc. Sigh heavily. Start revising.
Step 5: Consider adding booze to your caffeine.
Step 6: Start to wonder if you actually speak English, or if you’ve been living a lie your entire life.
Step 7: LOLOLOL plot what plot
Step 8: Actually add booze to your caffeine because hey, it can’t make it worse and Hemingway told you to write drunk and edit sob—wait. Fuck.
Step 9: Consider editing the Wikipedia entry on “writer” to include “see also: masochist.”
Step 10: Cry.
Step 11: WHAT DOES THIS EVEN MEAN I KNOW I WROTE IT BUT WHAT THE FUCK WAS I TRYING TO SAY
Step 12: Realize you’ve descended into the Valley of Self-Doubt Despair and you should just buy property here because you’re never fucking leaving.
Step 13: Squint at the computer screen in disdain as you read a paragraph you’re pretty sure could be crafted better by a chinchilla on speed.
Step 14: Force anyone you’re friends with on Skype to read random paragraphs out of context and provide feedback.
Step 14a: Desperately crave their approval.
Step 14b: Immediately doubt any praise they give you as “you’re my friend you have to be nice.”
Step 15: Write a post on Tumblr that you hope is funny but is probably just really sad.
Step 16: Consider nunhood.
Step 17: LOLOLOL GO HOME JESS YOU ARE DRUNK
Step 17a: Realize you ARE home. gdi.
Step 18: Hate everything in technicolor.
Step 19: Crying intensifies.
Step 20: Finally actually revise the goddamned thing and send it off to the editor in an alcohol-fueled haze of desperation and self-loathing.
My friend, Jess, ladies and jellybeans.
tranquil as a forest, but on fire within.
Sharing this for all of you, plus lyrangalia (because duh).
a six-word story by Taylor Swift / Olivia Benson
President Clinton’s cat Socks on the Press Secretary’s podium in the press briefing room at the White House, 1993.
u know ur in deep when ur making headcanons and getting invested in the nonexistent theoretical child of a fictional space cowboy and a blue alien
Always reblog Elle Woods in her “fuck men I’m gonna get a law degree” phase
this movie is everything
Look at the way his face lights up! (♥)