writer, editor, type-A Midwesterner
When fretting about time, which often I do – whether or not I have enough time for all the tasks at hand, whether not I have enough tasks to fill the time, whether something I want or need will be found in time for a deadline or my own satisfaction – I think about Jane Austen.
In an Austen novel, every period of time – between visits, between news, between one activity and the next – is measured, not in minutes or hours, but in weeks. Weeks. From Pride & Prejudice:
There’s this fitted sheet in our linen collection that just doesn’t work right. It seems fine. It fits when you put it on, and then, in the middle of the night, instigated by who knows what, the corners snap up. My husband and I fall asleep in our normal, cozy bed, and wake up tangled in loose sheet with nothing but a scratchy mattress pad below us. It’s the worst.
To make matters worse (yes, there is more to this story), we can never remember which fitted sheet does this to us. We have four or five sheet sets, and they’re all various shades of blue, green and teal. So it’s always a surprise. When we wake up that random morning, all groggy and itchy and tangled and confused, we’re like, “Whelp. It’s this one. This is the horrible sheet.”
There are exactly four things on my 2014 Goals list. I’m not going to share them, (because why would anyone else care about my goals for myself?), but in the process of making it as concise as possible, I went through an interesting exercise. Though ruthless editing is a part of everyday life as a writer, it felt very different to be editing myself, or, at least, my aspirations for myself over the next year.
When editing a story, every single world needs to be there for a reason. If a story can survive the loss of any extra anything, it’s cut. Applying that process to life goals was helpful in a way that I’m hoping will make the entire next year more efficient and clear. Here are a few of my first draft goals that I cut and the reasons I let them go:
Natalie Burg 