Writers write. When words aren’t forthcoming, they do anything but. Lots of different things can form a good excuse. My latest procrastination was cleaning out the fish cistern. See how pretty it looks? That’s from last year. This year, the fish are much bigger and the plants aren’t out yet. I treated the water with a flocculant, and when all the gunk make the surface look like pea soup, I scooped it out with a fish net. Well, most of it, anyway.
Scooping algae and old leaves out of the cistern is much like editing a manuscript. The big chunks go first and the water no longer looks disgusting.
Ah, the plot is now actually coherent!
Chasing down the smaller bits takes more time, and is frustrating in its endless futility.
My beta comments! I love my beta and I wish I didn’t have this bad POV habit.
More flocculant is added while I reach into the cool water, fishing out last year’s dead, decaying leaves.
And that’s how one eliminates factual errors.
The crud from the bottom and the remaining algae flocculated some more, forming pasty green floating islands of gunk. Their texture is fine, though, and they go right through the fish net. Unwilling to concede defeat, I reach into the kitchen and sacrifice our fine kitchen sieve, the gourmet chinois, to attain a higher goal: clean water.
Clarity of expression after a merciless editor made my text bleed with a cruel, red pen.
The crud will settle overnight, and tomorrow I will give it all another try. I will also give my manuscript another read-through in a few weeks. Even though the process is messy and laborious in either case, the results will be worth the extra effort.