Who Writes This Crap, Anyway?

The act of rewriting is sort of like mood archeology. You sift through the pages and each chunk of writing represents your mood and attitude from whatever day it was written. Some days are lackluster, some days are brilliant and some days give off a very, “Let’s just get through this scene and we’ll polish it up during rewrites,” sort of vibe.

The chunk of writing I went over today fit into this latter mood. I was quite obviously relying on my current-self to pick up the slack for my past-self.

One such nugget was as follows:

“The full moon hung in the dark sky like a white bowling ball lodged in fudge.”

Very poetic.

Then there was this, my personal favorite:

“A tester appeared, most likely having a name of some sort and probably some distinguishing characteristic or something on his clothes making him memorable enough to be identified later in the scene.”