Confessions from the Desk

I am one of those contrary sorts of writers (I'm not a contrary person, mind you, just a contrary writer). When I am working on a first draft I grumble to myself and wish I were in the final stages of editing, fine tuning the whole piece until it sings. But when I am editing (you guessed it) I wish I were in the throws of writing a first draft, the words flying from me, every twist in the plot opening up new vistas of possibility.

(This yoga teacher training course is absolutely killing me, by the way. But I did learn from the chiropractor who taught the anatomy part of my course that the top four vertebrae in my neck are almost completely locked. I need to get it x-rayed and then worked on. When the good doctor told me it felt like my neck had been like this for years and asked what had happened to it I said I had no idea. I didn't mention the fact that since I've been able to read and write I have rarely lifted my head up! It has either been bent over a book or bent over a desk. Maybe when I become a yoga teacher I should offer classes to writers and other bookish types to save the necks of the book world!).

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