I’m working on revisions for Unkept which is a lot like carefully removing my heart with a scalpel just to watch it beat.
It’s like going back in time, reworking history, rethinking all of the things I want to say and finding new ways to say them.
It’s a puzzle, a mystery, a million little paper cuts delivered every time I hit a key. It’s opening old wounds and crafting fresh ones and bleeding until my insides are shriveled dry.
It’s a painful act, remolding words. It’s painful because there’s a mirror there reflecting your paper cut hand, your heart in your palm.
The hardest thing in the world is remembering not to squeeze too tightly.