Oscar Wilde's Comma
Oscar Wilde's ghost materializes at 3 AM.
"I spent the morning removing a comma," he announces.
"And the afternoon?"
"Putting it back."
"Did you decide?"
"I died. The comma lives on. Mocking us both."
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Oscar Wilde's ghost materializes at 3 AM.
"I spent the morning removing a comma," he announces.
"And the afternoon?"
"Putting it back."
"Did you decide?"
"I died. The comma lives on. Mocking us both."
Writer finishes first draft. 90,000 words. Celebrates.
Editor returns it: "Cut 30,000 words."
Writer: "Which ones?"
Editor: "The bad ones."
Writer: "They're all my children."
Editor: "Then you have 30,000 ugly children."
Writer deletes 30,000 words. Sends revision.
Editor: "Better. Now cut 20,000 more."
Writer: "I only have 60,000 left."
Editor: "Exactly."
Oscar Wilde's ghost materializes at 3 AM. "I spent the morning removing a comma," he announces. "And the afternoon?" "Putting it back." "Did you decide?" "I died. The comma lives on. Mocking us both."
Writer finishes first draft. 90,000 words. Celebrates. Editor returns it: "Cut 30,000 words." Writer: "Which ones?" Editor: "The bad ones." Writer: "They're all my children." Editor: "Then you have 30,000 ugly children." Writer deletes 30,000 words. Sends revision. Editor: "Better. Now cut 20,000 more." Writer: "I only have 60,000 left." Editor: "Exactly."
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