Recently I have been reading some of the writing on my other/older blog. Much of it is years old and I have not gone back to it unless someone calls my attention to an error in spelling/grammar or a formatting issue. The words seem fresh and enough removed from me that I read without the shrill inner critic ruining the moment. It’s a pleasant shock to read stuff that came out of my thick old skull… and like it – find that it makes me laugh/sigh/wonder without that nattering voice in my remarking about what I “should have” written/said/thought.
Editing becomes a cleaner, less personal matter. I don’t feel I’m losing a limb if I boldly excise extraneous words. Leaving things to sit for a while gives the “statue hiding in the block of marble” a chance to take form (to severely overstate the importance of my “art”). It is fun to re-visit these previously posted posts, re-work some things and post them again… here! It’s not that I believe my writing is brilliant or even interesting (to anyone other than me); time has gentled my eyes to what is me – to what is my own – and that is a very good thing.