Every time I get a true sentence out I feel like I’m having an orgasm. Telling the truth is hard. Not because I’m trying to hide something. Quite the opposite. As a writer, I want to tell the truth all the time. But I don’t know if something is true until I say it. Such is the nature of the intercourse between writing and revision. Sometimes the truth is already there, revision hardly needs to touch the writing for the sentence to climax. Then other times, it takes forever. Sometimes I go to town on one sentence, for hours, only to stray further from the truth. At a certain point I give up, and go to bed, frustrated and unsatisfied.