I hate editing. It’s like going into labor. Pain. For a long time. Especially for perfectionists like me. I don’t want to put anything out there that doesn’t have the correct grammar or the perfect word or the right whatever. There is always something that needs revising, correcting, changing.

I’ve loved throwing words on paper without thinking, just getting it all down. Like throwing rose petals on the grass, like spattering paint on a canvas. Pollock’s work looks easy but I guess it took time, effort, study, too.

I’d like nothing more than to be spontaneous and not look back. That’s what I’ve been doing with these 500 words. I write what comes to mind and never reread what I write. Well, I sometimes go back and change a word or two but I usually just free write. As instructed. And I am having fun.

My husband, my greatest fan, has turned it into a blog. He thinks it’s worth reading. But of course, I won’t let him post it until I’ve edited it. I can’t stand the thought of people reading me and saying, “And she calls herself a writer? She doesn’t even know her prepositions!” Or some other failing or shortcoming. Because I do have them. So do you. That’s what being human is all about. Granted, it’s no excuse for sloppy writing! That’s why I edit!

Why should it matter what unknown people think of me? I guess it’s like being dressed properly. I don’t want people to see that my dress is old, faded and out of shape, that I’ve got horrible color combination or that my pants are too short and my blouse screaming psychedelic 70s. I don’t want to be noticed. Or at least not negatively. Or too positively. It goes to your head. It destroys you. Look at the so-called stars around you. They all go weird or die of an overdose. We weren’t made to be adulated, adored.

Writing is about saying “This is who I am.” Heck, what we say, do, write, how we dress, how we decorate our homes, the  car we drive, the jewelry we wear or don’t wear, they all make a statement. It all boils down to choice. And we want to like our choices, and others to like them too. To not look back and say, “I should have done that, gone there, ordered fish instead of chicken.” My husband asks me, “Why do you do that? Why do you always regret what you’ve ordered?  Enjoy what you’ve got.“

Wise words. Easier said than done and actually easier for things like food. Not so for choices that have hurt people. When we chose pride instead of humility. When we chose to walk away instead of staying and making it work. I don’t know. You fill in the blanks.

Writing says I did this. I chose this path, these words, this way of showing you me. I know in my head that not everyone can like me or what I write or my style of writing. It would be so boring if we all had the same taste and the same outlook and the same style. But each one of us needs to know we are at least valued, appreciated, if not loved. And even if I am loved, I’m still putting myself out there where you can either throw me roses or rotten eggs.