So… where was I? Right. Rewriting. And rewriting. And before that, probably rewriting. I feel like I’ve been rewriting for months now. Sure, the work IS actually getting better, I can’t slag off on rewriting as a concept, but… there has to come to a point when I can say: I’m finished.


I’m working about draft 8. It’s getting a little fuzzy. Because now I’m tinkering. Mostly. A change of a few lines. Cut down a description. Swap out one verb for a better one.

When do I know when I’m done? That’s the question I’m starting to ask myself. Each time I have finished a draft I have said, “Now, I’m done. I just can’t make it better. I can’t go back in and do more… there’s nothing left to do.” Of course, when I do, when I sit down and do the work, there is more to be done. (I’m serious about finding better verbs. I realized I was using the words ‘turns’ a lot… armed with my thesaurus I changed out many of them. My favorite: pivots. FIND is a great function.)

But: I have to wonder… if there is ALWAYS something to do… even if it’s (metaphorically) moving that chair over there to some place over THERE… Which I could probably do FOREVER.

This time… this draft, I think I know I’m done. I think I’m finished. Because I am ITCHING to start something new. Anything new. I’ve got a couple of ideas. I’m a part of the Playwrights Union yearly challenge (right a play in a month… I have 15 more days) and I really, really don’t know what I want to do for draft 9.

Until, of course, I open draft 8… and then I’ll think of something.

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