Digging through the fresh rubble that is my July draft, I find I have a lot of soul-searching to do. Most writers who edit their own work seem to. In the wake of the Nano writing bender, I offer you the frank confessions of a haggard writer-in-editing.
“Let me tell the story of your life,” Eric panted. He didn’t have time to stop and breathe, and the white proximity of the four blades closed his throat. His Adam’s apple convulsed drily--he'd better talk fast.