Friday, May 10, 2013
I read somewhere that "Writing is like a honeymoon, revision is like making a long marriage work."
As a person who is long married (ten years this July! okay, not that long married, but long for Hollywood), and who is in the middle of the process of revising a manuscript the working title of which is Some Things You Shouldn't Poke With A Stick, I totally get this.
The writing was a summer evening walk in the park licking lemon ice with a handsome man with hair like a Greek shepherd's and the naughty idea to get naughty behind the swan boathouse. It was Champagne in a glass made just for it! It was Cole Porter tunes spilling out of a huge white tent put up for a wedding on the banks of the Chesapeake. It was glorious, jazz-age hedonism. I swung my pearls.
And now? The hurdy gurdy wheezes melodies that now sounds like circus music. The tigers are safely back in the zoo. I'm there under the big top, leaning on my broom.
Shuffling, dusting, tidying, cleaning up all the Lipizzaners' poo, adjusting the makeup of the clowns in their oversized shoes so that in brighter lights of day, we still look okay.