That’s about the weight of the manuscript I’ve been working on for two years, the several revisions I reprinted of it, all the backup research, the folders it took to hold it all, and several spiral bound notebooks filled with words, thoughts, ideas.
I picked it up this morning to clean around it and got the brilliant idea to weigh it on my digital bathroom scale. It came to fifteen pounds without the final revision print, which I haven’t done yet, but am compelled to do so, simply because I want to see the finished pages in my hands. It’s all on computer, thumb drive, and hard drive backup (maybe I should weigh these things too), but I just need to see my finished product on paper.
Of course the book itself will weigh in at the end as well. I shall have to put it all on the scale again when I’m done. I’m guessing, with the computer and other stuff, maybe twenty to twenty-five pounds?
But the whole idea of “weighing” words sparked another train of thought. Of course, I’m a writer now, it should do that, right?
It’s a lesson we’ve all been through I imagine. Considering the weight of our words. Have I said what I meant to say? Have I said it well? Did I say with it grace and flair? Should I have said it all?
Hind sight is 20-20. But when you’re words are in published print, well, then you’ve done it. They’re out there and anyone can throw them back at you. Slap you in the face with them and make you wish you hadn’t opened your mouth, or in this case your computer, notebook, or thumb drive.
So many words. So many ways to say what you think you have to say. Sigh*