Addicted to editing

I finally have a book out. I can't ever open it again since every time I do, I start editing it. Changing a word here, subtlely altering a sentence there. I can't help it. I'm addicted to editing. Like a work of art, it's never truly done because it can never be perfect. I'm always changing, growing, and of course, so is my perspective on my writing. It's a blessing and a curse.

For some reason, marking up a page already filled with words seems a less daunting task than starting with a blank one. A blank page is so daunting, in fact, that it was the topic of my opening paragraphs for Invisibles, the first draft of which I wrote in November during NaNoWriMo.

So here I am, blogging away and trying hard to write without too much editing. Just getting words out. One of the most relieving things that I ever heard a writer say was about that very thing. An audience member asked "What is the hardest thing about being a writer?" and the writer (I've forgotten who, but I think it was one of the Seven Series authors) replied, "Sitting my ass down in the chair to write."

"Yes," I might have said out loud and practically jumped out of my own chair (and was held back by a colleague) because I was just so INSPIRED to hear from a successful writer (successful meaning writing was the only thing they had to do to make money) that they still had a tough time sitting in the chair.

The blank page is terrifying and exciting at the same time. A blank page (or blank word processor document, which doesn't sound as poetic, but is more realistic) is like a seed germinating in black earth, the watermelon-round belly of a preganant woman, a movie theatre in which the lights go out just before the show: full of potential and expectation. A little scary, totally unknown, but brimming with promise.

What will you do with your blank page?