Single Handedly Destroying Forests

I can't remember a time in my life when I didn't write. It's only been in the past year or so, however, that I've started to think of myself as a writer. Before, my "scribbling" was my dirty little secret; something I didn't talk about, lest people want to read them. Now, I want people to read my work and it's hard to shut me up about the novel I'm working on. (See the neat way I just worked it into my blog.)

Each writer has his/her own rituals and routines. For example, I can only compose poems by hand but find it hard to write short stories and my novel that way. So far, I've written all of the latter on the computer. I want to rewrite the last seventy odd pages but I've stopped to edit for the time being. At first I was editing on the computer. Lately, however, I've realised that I prefer to hold a hard copy in my hands and scribble on it and add new material on the back of the page.

The other day I printed out 135 pages. *cringe* That's a lot of paper. Admittedly, I use recycled paper but there is energy that goes into recycling it. Furthermore, any pieces which are only used on one side will be put into my reuse pile. I always reuse paper that's only been used on one side. I still feel very guilty. That's a lot of paper and this is only the first edit. I did quite a bit as I went along but I just really like editing it by hand.

I can well imagine that the trees of the world have put me on their most wanted list.

Cheers.