This young man’s power matched his thirst for knowledge.
I drew a line through the sentence. The ink stopped on the capital “T”. Disturbing the flow is a bad idea. I had tried to relocate the sentence – find a new home for it. But it fit nowhere else in the story… just useless babble.
My shoulders hunched in defeat. Words were not useless. This sentence had a place… but where?
I folded my long legs into a pretzel in front of me and stared down at my manuscript. The editor had told me to get rid of it. “Sometimes you must make a sacrifice to polish your work,” She had said, pushing the stack of bound paper toward me.
I knew that! I knew sacrifices were necessary. But why couldn’t I keep this sentence? It was so good.
My mind was in turmoil and my stomach in knots. It wasn’t just one sentence. I’d stressed over this whole book for months. It had to be perfect. My story had to come across dramatically. I have to finish this… I have to make this one the best of the three!
But what if I fail?
I dropped my head, then kicked out my legs. Paper went flying. The white sheets flipped and floated before settling on my cluttered bedroom floor. My frustrated heart wanted to scream, but my voice did it for me. I fell back on the bed and lay looking at the ceiling.
“It could be worse, right?” I asked Him. “I could have no manuscript, no sentence out of place. Nothing.” I laughed, turning on my side, looking over at the pillow. I reached out to it and pulled it toward me, tucking it under my head. Just a moment’s rest was all I needed. I’m always told I don’t get enough anyway.
“Easy reading is damn hard writing.” -Nathaniel Hawthorne-