Think of it this way, one of the few things I am good at is manipulating sentences.
I tend to not write with creative syntax, hate the idea of ridiculous punctuation and I tend to not enjoy waxing poetic with lengthy sentences about mundane topics (such as the description of a room, how many people are in it or what maybe on the television).
But, what I was and am good at it taking something else someone wrote and making better.
And I guess that is my issue, as I am constantly rewriting the words spoken and written by me. What’s the phrase? “The Revisionist, never gets it perfect. Never gets you perfect.”
I have spoken and written my history, who I am, so many times even I can feel how unoriginal it is.
I am trying to figure out what I am practicing for. But I guess we all do this practice. We all have our set lines, our static data to share with people we just met.
We display the image of us to who we want to see it, because odds always are, when we show people the real image of who we are, they run away. People aren’t perfect. They have vices, horrible personalities, foul mouths, bad drinking habits, violent behavior, lazy attitudes.
So we coat the finish of a rough exterior. We shine and shine, until all those sentences make perfect sense, until all those words fall into the perfect place.
We revise, and revise, and revise. We make edits, we use red ink everywhere, until the whole story is looking like a fading sunset.