It’s there… for accidental e’s in place of i’s. An extra letter in the word accidentall.
It’s the delete key!
That totally underappreciated, often-abandoned key. It’s there to keep me from looking completely stupid when I actually do publish something for public consumption.
And so I love the delete key.
But then there are other days. The days that I write perfectly typed out words, ordered correctly and written out after hours and days and weeks of work. They’re on the page! They’re finished! And they’re 100% wrong.
They all need to be deleted from the pages that will eventually go out into the world.
And so I hate the delete key all at the same time.
We all get into face-offs with our delete key. A good writer knows when to hit delete OR when to just lean into what’s already on the page and own it. Writing is never, ever just sitting down and writing a stunning first draft that will immediately become a shooting draft. These are things I’m still learning.
I usually have to get everything on the page to even see what I have to work with. I assume that my first three or four drafts won’t ever exist outside of my computer. And then I share it with a few close friends and fellow writers. And then I go through another draft. And another and another. And then sometimes I start completely over. Sometimes I delete things I shouldn’t have. But I have to try. I have to delete.
Writing is HARD some days.
But every draft means I’m one step closer to sending things out. I’m one step closer to a finished product that I’m thrilled with.
So go ahead, love that delete key. It only makes things better.
Luke surprised me with an antique typewriter over the weekend…
I feel like I should start writing a hardboiled noir piece now. The Lady of the Red Street Murders…
It was a rainy night when she walked into my life, cigarette in one hand and the last will and testament of Johnny Salem in the other. She loved him, that much was for certain. But everything else about her said only one thing: Don’t trust a word coming out of that pretty mouth. And here I’d been looking forward to a night with scotch on the rocks. She smiled sadly. “Make it two, darling.” This was going to be an interesting night.