They Grow Up So Fast

A mentor once told me something I've never forgotten: "It's hard to kill your baby."

Please hold the horrified response until I've elaborated.

He was actually referring to writing. He was editing a piece I had written, and crossing out entire paragraphs. I balked, telling him that I liked those parts, that they sounded nice and that they were relevant and--and--

He responded with the above statement. You're always fond of what you write, he said. It's yours, you created it. It's your baby, your child, it came from you, and to destroy it is not only impossible, but despicable to even think about. You can remember writing every one of these words, and you couldn't bear to let a single one of them pass into oblivion. But you gotta. To save this piece, you gotta.

I've never forgotten that advice. Because he's absolutely right. We never want to cut our pieces to bits, because every part of them is precious to us. I remember writing that, you think, almost as if reminiscing over your memory of a young child. I remember thinking those thoughts and putting them into words. Those are mine.

But to truly edit a piece--any piece--you have to step back, take it from a reader's standpoint. The reader will have no particular attachment to those words. Maybe a few are necessary--they're not all disposable. Some are crucial, some hold the piece up as if on columns and foundations. But shockingly few.

Looking over the piece I've written, there is a lot to be cut. The focus is lost under all of my detail (I think I'm far too fond of the details), and I enjoyed writing it too much to realize. So now entire paragraphs must be thrown into cyber oblivion.

He told me those words several years ago. I can still hear them just as clearly as if he had said them yesterday. I really have never gotten more helpful advice on writing. It is what we all so easily forget, and what is never irrelevant to whatever we're working on. Every piece you write has irrelevant parts, parts that make the thread of the piece bend slightly off the focus. For the sake of clarity, for the sake of your writing, for the sake of your piece, they must be cut.

And yes: it's damn hard to let go of your babies. But you gotta.

Summertime

The year ended in a blur. My work tapered off as I became absorbed in finals, and I ended up having to finalize the dynamics article from home (as well as a student award article). Once I got those done, I was on break for a while.

And it was odd, not having constant work to do. Even worse was that I don't have set office hours. I don't like keeping my own time. I like having a set schedule, being busy enough that my schedule is set (more often than not) around what I have to do, and then what I want to do just fills in the cracks. Now what I have to do is on a flexible schedule. There are no more cracks. There's just fluid free time, and general responsibilities without deadlines floating on the top like leaves in a stream.

I'm going to go insane.

I mean to wake up early, I do. You can imagine how long that lasted. I mean to go running regularly, to go riding regularly. But time just passes, and then I look back and I've done nothing.

It's probably a product of having such a tightly-packed schedule, non-stop, all year. I've been booked back-to-back since last August (I remember I was having scheduling conflicts even during Welcome Week) and now my schedule is flexible and fluid and it's freaking me the hell out.

I have a new, large project for work. It's a series of articles on MechSE professors whose research is related to biology. I've done one interview, and transcribed it; but have done no work for the article itself. That was three days ago. I just can't sit down and focus, I can't write it. I have no set time in which to write it, so I suppose I've just been waiting until I'm in the mood, but that hasn't occurred yet.

I'm going to volunteer (hopefully) for a middle-school physics program at my high school. It's in the morning, so I'm hoping that'll get me out of bed well-enough to regulate my sleep schedule and get me focused enough to get work done. And the school is close to the library--I might do some work there.

In any case, I need to get my act together before my brains become scrambled eggs.

I can't believe I've turned into one of those people who can't stand vacations.