Writing is Rewriting and Rewriting and . . .

. . . just more [expletive deleted] rewriting it seems. Yesterday I received the thirty edited pages of my memoir, Memorial: Our Last Year on the Links, from Aimee Liu, my advisor through Goddard's MFA program in creative writing. Let's just say I'm glad she doesn't use red ink.

When I first ruffled through the pages and saw her notes, I felt slightly ill. But today, sitting at Stauf's Coffeehouse and reading her comments more closely, I value her opinion. All it means is that there's more work to do. If she's anything like me, her multitude of comments simply means that she can see the possiblities the work offers. Mine must have a ton of promise!

Okay. So I'm committed. I want this book to be good, not just good enough. I'm back at it and ready to do whatever it takes. Curse my ego. Pass the bumglue!