I later read Carver stating in an essay that he loved to stay with his pieces so he didn't have to deal with the idea of something new.
I get the idea Carver was either fighting to stay afloat or pushing himself to drown.
Everyone in my writing group seems to have a philosophy or equation that works for them for editing and revision.
Mine is non existent.
Except of course for the old fashioned, "it's been half a year and your scars are showing, let's take you out back and clean you up a bit."
I will try here and now to explain that.
I want to believe in writing as barking. I can not imagine a dog editing or revising his bark. The truth in urgency. I want it to be sharp, sudden, and for people to turn their heads when it is heard. I want to think of what you thought before you jumped. I can't edit how your voice quivered when you said your vows.
I am impatient.
I write to read.
I do, however, edit as I write on my first pass, heavily.
And I understand the small errors and misnomonclatures will happen.
The little red underlines.
I do believe in the widely disproven idea that lightning rarely strikes twice where it should not. That we may get somewhere sometimes because of some combination of somethings that may eventually lead to an original thought.
And not to take them for granted, not expect them to double over tossed inside your mind as if weak from running away from everyone else's thoughts.
I do believe in digging, in mining.
Yet I also fail to find worth in hearing the same joke over and over again, regardless of how you tell it.
Maybe I see my writing as jokes I'm only ever up for telling once.
If I'm not laughing anymore I feel as if I'm wasting my time.