I’ve come to realize that at a certain time of the month, I can only vent furiously in my writing.
Editing — the kind that’s supposed to turn my feverish brain dump into something coherent and possibly even worth reading — is like swimming up a waterfall.
I started writing a post about all the tweets I ran across on #1LineWed on Twitter that described the texture of the brick wall or tree trunk that some shirtless, self-enamored asshole was throwing a woman up against before kissing her.
Throwing. That’s the word that was used. And not a single one of the female characters said, “Ow!!”
I noticed this, because that’s the first word that came to mind when I read these descriptions.
And, yes, I know I’m probably taking the word “throw” too literally. But . . . how am I supposed to read these descriptions and think, “He gingerly placed her next to the moderately rough surface and gently leaned in for a kiss.”
I can’t do it. I read these, and I think, “Throw me against a brick wall or a tree trunk, and the only thing you’ll be kissing is the ground!”
So, forget it. I’m done. I’m taking a mental health day. Or week. I’ll write again when I’ve regained my ability to laugh about all this. And to edit.
Have a good weekend, my wonderful readers! Take care, and stay warm.