The Rule of Two: Writing is a long-distance dance.
You, the writer, dance your part alone. You compose and play the music as well. And you imagine your partner, your perfect partner, precisely in sync with your every move.
But your partner, the reader, is at a disadvantage: the distance between you both. He or she does not have access to your mind. They can’t hear the music as you’ve heard it in your head. They can only hear what you’ve set down. They can only hear how well you’ve played it. And if you make a misstep, they will stumble and may never find the rhythm of your dance again.
The writer, you, must always remember your partner. That partner can be modeled on yourself, but before you begin this dance in public, you must change places and dance your partner’s part, try and forget what you saw and heard in your head and see only what’s on the page. You must be able to be both writer and reader.
When you write, lose yourself in the flow, the passion. But then become the reader. Approach the dance fresh, with some distance, and perhaps a bit of trepidation, uncertainty. Let yourself discover, as reader, if the writer has mastered the music and can lead you through the dance.
And when it doesn’t work, when you find yourself stumbling, falling, rejoice. Problems that you find you can fix.
And then you can start the dance again.
Simple Rules For Improving Your Writing: One
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