It’s back to work this week, and I’m thinking about the dozens of drafts a story goes through before it becomes what it’s supposed to be. I often hear writers complain about the revision process. I don’t get it. For me first drafts, in fact all of the early drafts, are a huge drag. It’s in revision, and often deep into revision, where the magic finally happens.
A piece about putting my dog to sleep is really about my fear of moving. An essay about a group of Army Colonels turns into a story about my own misguided preconceptions of the Republican Right and the Liberal Left. A story about women’s amateur golf tournaments ends up being about sexual discrimination in the workplace. The list goes on.
As for other sorts of magic, this time last year we were 2 weeks in Australia. We started in Sydney, then rented a car and spent a few days driving down the coast road to Melbourne for the start of the Australian Open Tennis Tournament. I took this photo on my first walk from the hotel to Melbourne Park and, well, don’t these folks look like they believe in magic?