Today, I am letting the article rest.
Once I finish writing a piece,
I let it rest for a while.
Even if it is an essay where freshness is everything,
just leaving it for a day
dramatically enhances its flavor.
The work after letting it rest is very simple.
Trimming away the excess fat,
adding a bit more lean meat,
or perhaps garnishing it with a sprig of herbs.
Since that completely changes the volume,
I adjust the shape so the structure becomes more natural.
I break the text down into small pieces, line by line.
This line is quick, so it should go in the front,
that line is tall and stands out, so it goes toward the back,
these lines would look better if they were closer together,
and those lines might not quite fit on this stage.
Deciding on the layout, I quietly move things around.
Cut and paste,
cut and paste.
I rearrange the text, pasting it here and there.
When something unnecessary appears,
I select it all and delete it,
hitting backspace, then typing a little more.
The text gradually takes shape.
Yes, it has become beautiful.
Well then, let's take it out in front of people once.
It will be fine,
don't be shy,
it is surely a masterpiece.
Giving the text a gentle push on the back,
it is time for its debut from the center stage.
The cut-and-pasted text,
at that moment, it is my pride and joy,
head held high, speaking out loud,
I cheer it on gently from the wings.
Illuminated by the spotlight,
it is wrapped in modest applause.
Stepping back from the wings, I breathe a sigh of relief,
and then, it sleeps peacefully at home.
The next day, I wake up.
I look at the same text from the same wings of the stage.
What is this?
Is this really the same text as yesterday?
It is full of patches and strangely clumsy.
It is strangely clumsy.
The materials are different in places,
and loose threads are sticking out everywhere.
It makes me realize.
I really wasn't thinking clearly until yesterday.
The guilt of having sent this child onto the stage in such a state,
this won't do,
I hurriedly lead it by the hand to the workshop.
I sit it down at the workbench
and take a close look at it.
This 'line' is quick, but maybe it would have been better as a middle reliever?
That 'line' is tall and stands out, but would it be better if it stooped?
Would these 'lines' better suggest a deep connection if I intentionally separated them?
Could those 'lines' be, heaven forbid, exactly what was needed for this stage?
I have to look more deeply at the role each line plays,
or I won't be able to finish a piece of writing I'm satisfied with.
I pick up the parts scattered on the floor
and rearrange them once more.
What I want to create is not a patchwork.
It is a piece of writing that has truly become one.
Looking at the text that wasn't one at all,
I want to scold my yesterday's self.
What on earth were you looking at!
Cut and paste,
cut and paste.
Well, it's gradually becoming beautiful again today,
this is becoming beautiful.
...Is it really becoming beautiful?
I just want to believe it's beautiful, but
I feel anxious that it might still be full of patches.
In the end, I can't understand it today.
So, I'll leave it to the me of tomorrow or the day after,
and for today, I'll go to sleep along with the article.
I'm sure this piece of writing hasn't come together as one yet either.
Every time I let it rest, maybe it will
gradually become one.
I hope it does.
Carrying that hope with me,
letting writing rest is the best thing to do!
🐈️If you like what you see, please take a look at the sitemap as well🐈️
📕Click here for novels I've let rest for quite a while📕
🎉Kindle book: Essay collection published!🎉
By Teneko Nekokura, "I Have Written a Life Full of Shame"
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