After rewriting something, what makes it sing? How to know that it’s done? I mean, it works when it just works, right? There’s a pacing, a rhythm, a certain harmony that materializes. I do like that maxim of “stop rewriting before it becomes different.” There have been times where I’ll write a passage or section into oblivion and then it takes on this whole different persona, separate from the intent of the chapter. Then, I’ve had to walk it back and try again.

Although rewriting is a journey, with switchbacks going back and forth, there is a certain level of frustration mixed with joy. In rewriting something, you think it’s good. Once you get back to it the next day, you tell yourself “What was I thinking?” Then, you develop this idea wondering whether the thing you’re rewriting is going to end up needing to be redone. That’s frustrating and throws you into a state of doubt. You have to tell yourself not to get too meta and allow the writing to find its own legs. The joy comes when the words start to work, and find that harmony, and sing. It’s like “I shouldn’t mess with it anymore.”