I love writing. I can spend hours at the keyboard spinning tales and describing the worlds floating through my mind. And I’m more than happy to send those stories out into the world for others to read and enjoy. But when someone asks me the oh, so simple question ‘what’s your story about?’ I freeze. My mind goes blank and I look like a guppy fish out of water, my mouth opening and closing but no sounds coming out.
As a teen I started a terrible birthday tradition.
Someone told me recently they could never be a writer because they hate rereading their work. Yes. In writing you have to reread, reread and reread again to the point where you can’t see the words on the page anymore, just the words you expect to see.