Final draft submitted. First draft came in at 2189, cut 190 words in dribs and drabs. No point in publishing the first draft this time; the final is just more efficient.
I left this later than I would have liked, and I knew that my observances of Halloween were going to make this a bad week for writing. It was a grim month in more ways than one, but I’m glad I stuck it out. Who knows when Cocktober would rear his head again?
But I have to say, the pressures of both the deadline and the word limit made this fun. “No one enjoys writing, but everyone enjoys having written,” my father used to tell me, usually when I was putting off homework. While that sentiment has often informed my approach to writing, like physical exercise I have found that once I make the time I actually enjoy it quite a bit.
Editing, too, seems like a chore until you see how it improves your writing, right before your eyes. It’s like altering clothes; it seems to fit alright at first, and then you see how some of what you wrote is getting in the way of what you want to say.
Over and above the satisfaction of making a dozen fellow size fantasists read my work, I remain grateful to Aborigen for this quarterly exercise. It’s good for me.
El Amante Menguante 