A friend of
mine wrote a poetry on editing and it goes like this…
as did Abraham, long ago,
when he laid his Isaac upon the altar of his God.
So do I place my offspring on the butcher’s block
for yet another round of literary infanticide.
Cheerfully do I kill my children.
I guess she’s right. Funny thing about writing a dearly loved article and then you sleep over it, say one or two nights, and then you read it again and chop! chop! chop! down goes your original version and here come’s a lean one. Sometimes it works sometimes it won’t but I guess every writer has to go through the process! Edit!!!!!!!!!!!