Here is an excerpt from my tiny little book I'm going to self-publish on Amazon. Be excited:
I first knew there was something wrong when in a community college writing class I realized that I hated to rewrite. The teacher and other students were going on about the indispensability of rewriting your pieces, and I couldn’t be more at odds with them. I had known since high school that I didn’t like to rewrite; I wrote my pieces in one shot, and that was it. This was the first time it was dawning on my that this might be a problem.
The process of rewriting felt like torture to me. I was devoid of the ability to go back over what I wrote and separate the sheep from the goats. I had to keep it all, because I thought all of it was good. My mentality was not unlike that of a hoarder. A hoarder keeps everything because they see value in all of it. The yellowed newspapers, the broken can opener, the bedpan for an albino Chihuahua, there is potential use for it all and to cut it out is simply anathema to a full and satisfied life. To cut a line from a story was to cut off a piece of myself. All of me has worth and value. We don’t decide which pieces of ourselves to cut off, it’s inhuman. Their logic, though, made too much sense to my mind. You can’t get it all right and perfect on the first shot, you have to go over and fine tune it.
In the face of the sense they were making I made the only choice I was capable of making at the time: I concluded that I was one of the lucky writers who only has to write one draft.