I am the slayer of words

[desperance]

Behold, I am mighty; I hew verbiage. I feel like some OT king who hews the necks of his enemies like corn. I strew the wreckage of my novel all about me; not one word shall stand upon another.

381 / 509 (74.9%)

- which doesn't show you how much I've cut this morning. 2500 words, I reckon, or thereabouts. This page, that page? Pish! I cry, and scatter them to the cats.

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"The desperance came down like a wolf on the folds/His edit pen was gleaming in scarlet and gold...."