Writing...
...for me is somewhat like doing one of those hideous huge complicated puzzles of a picture of a tree or something. You spend ages assembling the bugger, gettting bored, wondering away, coming back to it, figuring more bits out, until finally you think you've got something that looks about right.
And then you go away from it for ages (or send it out for review), and then you come back, and look at it, and realise that it's *not right*, especially after some picky, crotchety, narrowminded git's looked at it. And then you squint at it, in just the right way, and then you can see the true pattern. To get there, you're going to have to take the thing apart again, so then there's bits everywhere, which is a nightmare.
But nothing quite beats the feeling of putting it back together just so, and knowing that this time, it's going to work, and that it'll be good.*
*This overextended metaphor was brought to you by Ange having worked on two different articles in one week. Apologies.
And then you go away from it for ages (or send it out for review), and then you come back, and look at it, and realise that it's *not right*, especially after some picky, crotchety, narrowminded git's looked at it. And then you squint at it, in just the right way, and then you can see the true pattern. To get there, you're going to have to take the thing apart again, so then there's bits everywhere, which is a nightmare.
But nothing quite beats the feeling of putting it back together just so, and knowing that this time, it's going to work, and that it'll be good.*
*This overextended metaphor was brought to you by Ange having worked on two different articles in one week. Apologies.