The trouble with writing is that writing is damn hard work. Even harder is rewriting.
Even when the muses smile on me and the fingers flash across the electronic keyboard, surging through words, to sentences, to paragraphs to a completed work, the task of rewriting the piece becomes - all too often - simply insurmountable.
One of the famous writers, I have forgotten which one for sure, but I think it was Irving Wallace, wrote his works in long hand, time and time again. He wrote on yellow, legal pads - page after patient page of revisions.
How I admire that man for his perseverance. Think of the labor, the toil, the energy that took! His were not tiny tales with simple plots; they long works of complexity and with depth.
Think of it: Writing a six or seven or eight hundred page book several times over in longhand. (Pity the poor editor, too, please).
I suppose there are writers of genius that do not have to rewrite and rewrite and rewrite. In music, Mozart was said to be able to dash off works and a great pace and - essentially - without much, if any, revision.
For those of us who are ordinary, once the first draft is finished, the really tough job begins, and goes on and on and on.