Some days I look for a story to fill the page, and I don’t find it. Today was like that. I moved from task to task, searching for a message. For words.
The day dimmed. Television boomed basketball. Crowd static behind the play-by-play filled my head with dryer lint. All that broken thread wound around my thoughts, trapping bits and pieces of nothing special in its web. Now it’s so late, I’m tempted to cut the floss away. Where are my scissors?
But then, I’d have nothing at all. Better to untie the knots, lay the string end-to-end, and recycle the yarn into something useful.
CRISPLY SPOKEN 
Ugh, how I dread the days where writing seems like carding the wool instead of weaving a masterpiece. And you’re right, sometimes untying is better than cutting. Cutting tends to mangle things a bit more.
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I always regret it if I don’t save what I cut. I like Scrivener because I can take a snapshot before I revise.
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