Seven Degrees Left of Center

Revision Staleness Isn't Story Staleness

         The coffee is really good this morning.
Which means my brain is awake enough to notice things it usually lets slide.
         It’s been a few days since my last blog entry. Not because I stopped writing, but because I’ve been buried in revisions. Same chapters. Same scenes. Same sentences, over and over. Somewhere between the second sip and the third reread, a dangerous thought showed up:
         Is my story getting stale?
         Turns out, I was asking the wrong question.
         Revision staleness is not the same thing as story staleness.
         A stale story stops moving. Characters stop choosing. Scenes exist just to connect other scenes. The pulse fades.
         That’s not what’s happening here.
         What I’m feeling is familiarity. I know this story too well because I built it. Of course it doesn’t surprise me anymore. I know the good lines before I get to them. I know where the tension spikes. That’s not a flaw in the story — it’s a side effect of living inside it for too long.
         Revisions are sneaky like that. The work starts to feel flat, not because it is, but because I’ve been staring at it in the same font, on the same screen, with the same cup of coffee. Okay, maybe not the coffee. The coffee is innocent in all this.
         The real danger isn’t a stale story.
It’s me over-fixing it. Sanding down edges. Polishing the life right out of it.
         So today, instead of fixing the story, I’m paying attention to where I’m tired. Where stepping back might do more good than another pass with the red pen.
         Sometimes the best revision move is giving the story enough space to surprise me again.
         The coffee helped.
         And the story?
It’s still breathing.