As we write we edit unacceptable thoughts and feelings, as we do in speaking. In writing there is more time to do it so the editing is heavier: when speaking, there’s someone right there waiting for a reply and he’ll get bored or think we’re crazy if we don’t come out with something. Most of the time in speaking, we settle for the
catch-as-catch-can way in which the words tumble out. In writing, however, there’s a chance to try to get them right. But the opportunity to get them right is a terrible burden: you can work for two hours trying to get a paragraph “right” and discover
it’s not right at all. And then give up.
Editing, in itself, is not the problem. Editing is usually necessary if we want to end up with something satisfactory. The problem is that editing goes on at the same time as producing. The editor is, as it were, constantly looking over the shoulder of the
producer and constantly fiddling with what he’s doing while he’s in the middle of trying to do it. . . . It’s an unnecessary burden to try to think of words and also worry at the same time whether they’re the right words.
