I threw out half of my Work In Progress yesterday. Deleted eighty pages.
I knew it was going to come to this. Saw it coming back in July when scenes started cropping up that just didn’t feel right. I don’t regret it, but I sure do wish I had the time back that I spent on them.
This really feels like breaking up with someone that you know in your head you should break up with but your heart keeps reminding you of the “good days.”
Sigh. I just hope I threw out the right eighty pages.
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