Writing process

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Writers are often asked what process they go through when writing.

Me, I rely on multiple rewrites, which each change the text quite a bit.

For example, this morning these paragraphs:

     I opened my eyes and looked at my husband lying beside me. Memories of wonderful times we have had together flooded my mind, and tears began to stream down my face.
What in the world had happened to me yesterday? What tragic event had occurred to make me forget the most important people in my life? There were no humans on this earth who were more valuable to me than my family.
And I forgot their existence for an entire day.

Became these paragraphs:

     As the light of morning sun hits my eyelids I decide it must be time to leave the land of slumber and start a new day.
If I could convince my eyes to open, that is. They really don’t like that transition period when they are forced to leave the relaxing darkness of night to be assaulted by that bright orb which sometimes shows itself in the morning sky.
My eyes tell me that they find the whole process extremely unfair!
I convince them to open a slit, and both my eyes and I (or should I say the three of us?) are pleased to discover that there is no pain waiting to sneak in with the sun’s rays.
A little at a time I persuade my eyes to open, until they are finally fully open and ready for a new day. Now all I have to do is roll over, sit up, and get out of bed.
But my movements are arrested as my eyes decide to focus on the man sleeping beside me.
As if someone had started playing 20 different movies in my head at the same time, memories flooded my brain, engulfing me with a kaleidoscope of images made up of the wonderful times I’ve shared with this man. Interspersed among the picnics, movies, berry picking and long walks were discussions about everything under the sun. Discussions I have enjoyed very much.
My heart swells with love as the realization hits me that I truly enjoy being with this man who is my husband. It swells even more as I think about how amazing it is that I can talk to him about absolutely everything.
Tears pour down my cheeks as my heart becomes overfull with emotion. This man is not simply my husband—he is my best friend!
I’m such a sap.
What in the world had happened to me yesterday? What tragic event had occurred to make me forget the most important people in my life? There were no humans on this earth who were more valuable to me than my family.
And I forgot their existence for an entire day.

And who knows what the final text will be after a few more rewrites!

By the way, it feels really good to be writing again. I’ve been so busy that I’ve barely written for about a month and a half. I think I was having withdrawal pains.

I told you those Jupiterians would find a way to slow me down!

What do you think?