When you describe what a writer does, it’s almost more rewriting than writing. Rewrting sometimes hurts. It’s letting go of your attachments that are just that. At some point a piece of writing (or any kind of art) becomes its own thing outside of you, greater than you. It feels like a part of you. It came from you, but it’s not part of you anymore. You have to look at it with an objective, analytical mind, and think practically about what is best for it. Let it be and become what it was meant to be.


My middle school English teacher used to say “kill the baby” to refer to this editorial process. He said it in a very creepy and energetic way,


“Kill the baby!!!”


As much as I knew what he was trying to do, I say to this day, “Nooo, don’t kill the baby.”


There is editing and there is killing. It’s whole art and skill within itself to know when you’ve overworked something. With many forms of art, there’s no going back. An overworked charcoal or pastel drawing is going to be an overworked charcoal or pastel drawing no matter how much you want it to back to that fresh, exciting, perfect moment you passed. You can get to that point in writing too. The idea behind the writing is so overworked in your head that the words you are writing are no longer exciting, but lifeless.


I happen to be of the opinion that it’s better just to give the baby a haircut, trim it’s nails, give it a bath, and let it grow up.