I’ve been this way as long as I remember.
Carver’s words (I’m currently writing a thesis on him) echo around my head so tauntingly.
they had better be the right ones
I’m not a perfectionist in any other area of my life. And I’m actually so hasty that I make a lot of rushed mistakes (which subsequently fuels my need to edit).
Nothing I write is ever good enough.
Nothing I write looks quite the same on the page as it did in my head.
There is always a better, cleverer, funnier, more succinct, wittier, more interesting way to tell my story.
And I cannot resist involuntarily playing these alternatives out internally.
Then, when I can’t resist any longer…
I go back and adjust.
I revisit and tamper.
I drive myself mad.
And eventually, I let it go.
Am I the only one with this habit…[quirk] [tendency] [obsession] ?