Bare chests and second drafts.

None of my lines have ever repeated, or maybe they have. How would I know. I never read my stuff again unless of course it’s for the purpose of editing. Otherwise, why would I read it again. I wouldn’t want to change anything about it other than, maybe, make a few minor structural and grammatical corrections to it.

Whatever I have written above, it’s all just lies, and whatever I’m writing next, be so kind as to not believe a word of it. The actual writing begins in the second draft. It’s where the existing paragraphs grow and new paragraphs get added. Writing the second draft is like finding little stories within the big story. It’s like asking oneself – between two lines, what else can fit and make sense, what else can complete the idea that I intend to put through. The intention is not to write more pages. It is to convey the idea as clearly as it should be conveyed.

I haven’t much experience in the field of editing. So far, I have published only two books. But I have been through the process of publishing from beginning to end. It’s a joy in itself. But why, all of a sudden, I am sharing all of this.

Maybe I’ve got nothing to do this morning. I’ve been running here and there since last two days. There hasn’t been a moment of complete rest until now. I have arrived in this moment stumbling all along. This morning, I am not drunk, well, not yet. And since I woke up, I haven’t heard a song either. I haven’t a single cloth on my body. It’s just complete silence around me. And now I’m having this urge to take a short road trip alone.

I think I got to go somewhere right away.

— Tomic Riter. © All rights reserved.


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