I Overthink. Therefore, I Overwrite.

I overthink. Therefore, I overwrite. And because of this, the editing process, whether at my own hands or the hands of others is painful.
Kill your darlings, they say. But oh, that is a painful mercy killing.
I really think about every word I put down, especially for its emotional impact, the meaning behind what is said and what is not said. What I am trying to pull out of myself to share with you, gentle reader. I’m not saying I always choose perfectly or wisely, just that I always think . . . ahem . . . overthink it.
Consider . . .
She shook his hand . . . versus . . . She reached out to shake his hand.
Clearly a pre-COVID-19 example, but bear with me. It wasn’t so very long ago that we were routinely shaking hands.
Many an editor would cut the latter to the cleaner former. After all, to shake a hand you have to reach it out, right? And so, in accordance with the natural flow of the editor universe, they edit. As a friend once advised me, “Don’t go to a surgeon for a hangnail, for they will want to cut off your finger.” Cutter’s cut. Editor’s edit. And that is just the way the world goes ‘round.
But, honestly, to me, those two sentences say, or at least can say, very different things. Or at least they would if I wrote them.
See, it’s complicated. Because . . . well, I’m complicated.
The first sentence just states a plain old vanilla fact (Not my favorite kind of writing, or thinking, or being). But, the second . . . well, that one can be chock full of meaning and nuance and drama (Now, that’s the way I like to write . . . and think . . . and be).
To me, her reaching out is not only the necessary motor gesture in order to complete the action. It is the intention, the negotiation of power and compliance in the moment, the statement of the immediate temperature of the relationship. To me, it is all this and so much more.
Maybe that’s why I never perfected the art of speedreading. I can’t skip over sections. What if I misssomething? I’m always reading (and writing) more than just the few words on the paper.
Maybe that’s why I always shush people when I am watching a movie so that I can hear every word of the dialogue. It’s in there for a reason after all. The producers cut hours of filming, but this remained. It must be profound. I must be important to the meaning of the whole movie. My movie-watching companions do not always agree.
Maybe that’s why when someone is relating another conversation to me, I always ask. “Is that exactly what they said? Were those the exact words they used?” Because, for me, it’s not just about getting the “gist” of an exchange. Words, and how they are put together, or not, have nuances. And a lot can hinge on a nuance.
I know. It’s exhausting. It’s complicated. So is life, at least my life.
Maybe it’s not so complicated for you — life and dialogue and language. Maybe you don’t overthink. I’ve been overthinking for so long, I can’t imagine what that must be like. It’s not that I think you are wrong. I just don’t know how to not do it. Honestly, I marvel at you. A part of me wants to be you. But I’m afraid I’d miss something, or a lot of somethings.
Then again, some things are eminently miss-able.







