By Mat Kwairn
Ah, editing—a sacred process of refinement, clarity, and careful consideration. Unless you’re me, in which case it’s a chaotic journey through time and space, featuring my Scottish Deerhound, Cairbre, an alarming amount of coffee, and precisely zero moments of actual editing.
Stage 1: The Grand Plan
I open my laptop, my manuscript aglow on the screen. Today is the day I’ll edit. “Tidy prose, tighten arguments, smooth transitions,” I think, sipping my first cup of coffee (whisky with a splash of the strongest coffee I can find). Cairbre snores in the corner, blissfully unaware of what’s about to unfold. (💭 Since dogs snore, I wonder if they ever get sleep apnea. I wonder if fish snore. Do birds snore? Could you imagine a snake snoring? The first person who ever had sleep apnea must have been terrified… Would putting pipes up the nose prevent sleep apnea? Imagine fish with little bubbles coming out of thier nose while they snore… wait, how do fish get enough oxygen when they are really and I mean REALLY deep? What’s the deepest a fish could ever be?)
Then it begins: “What if I rewrote this whole thing?” A single paragraph begets a spiral of reimagining an entirely new narrative arc. By the end of Stage 1, I’ve either opened a blank document or convinced myself this piece would work better as a podcast.
Stage 2: The Rabbit Hole
Editing starts with a quick fact-check. How many Native American tribes are there now compared to 1492? I Google it. Two hours later, I’m knee-deep in articles about Celtic migration patterns and wondering if Cairbre’s ancestors pulled chariots in medieval Scotland. (💭 What if I got him a little chariot to pull? Omg, if I got a cat, Cairbre could pull her around… I could start a new TikTok channel for them. What would I name the cat? Catriona would be cute. Maybe I should make a website about my dog and the cat I’ll get. If I knew more people with dogs, we could all get chariots and have Ben-Hur style chariot races. Maybe I could start a new business renting chariots to dog owners… chariotsfordogs. com. The money I make could go to a dog charity… charitychariots. org. Did someone really die during the chariot races in Ben-Hur? I wonder if Kirk Douglas kept any of his armor from the movie)
By now, I’ve s a fresh cup of coffee on me desk. Maybe a quick visit to Amazon to see what coffees are available. Then a little search for the strongest coffee in the world.
(💭 How can coffee be made “stronger” than what it already is? Has anyone ever died from drinking coffee that was too strong? Can someone overdose on coffee? Are there coffee addiction centers where people drink whisky and discuss how coffee ruined their lives?)
Stage 3: The Side Quest
It’s time to “get serious.” I pour another coffee and resolve to edit. (💭 I wonder if I should get a keurig? is keurig a german word? I German coffee good? Back to Amazon to search for German coffee, but wait, should I get the Keurig and then get the German coffee as pods or should I just get them now as beans… Do they instant German Coffee?) But then Cairbre nudges my elbow with his wet nose. “Aye, alright, lad,” I say, grabbing his leash.
An hour later, I’m running through the park, reimagining politics, still blown away from learning that Oxford University is hundreds of years older than the Aztecs… (💭 Think about that, Oxford University was here, then came the Aztecs, then the Aztecs all but disapeard and yet Oxford University is still there, to this day. What happened to the Aztecs? Something about Spain and conquistadors… Procol Harum sang a beautiful song called Conquistador… I should write a song about something…)
During my run I began working on a sea shanty about why I’m not in my office editing. I think I’ll call it “Blame it on the Dog” Don’t judge me, it’s a draft version.
🎵 Oh, I sat down to write, me mind a stormy sea,
With whisky in me veins and the coffee makes me pee.
But the words come like waves, they crash and scatter wide,
As me dog barks loud and wades through me tide!
🎵 Blame it on the dog, blame it on the brew,
ADHD’s got me head spinning too!
Whisky makes me dizzy, coffee’s burning bright,
I just wanna write, but me mind’s taken flight!
🎵 My thoughts, they drift like ships, they sail without a chart,
I chase ‘em with me pen, but they break apart!
The dog’s at me feet, and he’s chewing on me shoe,
Blame it on the pup, what else can I do?
🎵 Blame it on the dog, blame it on the brew,
ADHD’s got me head spinning too!
Whisky makes me dizzy, coffee’s burning bright,
I just wanna write, but me mind’s taken flight!
🎵 Oh, the pen’s in me hand, but the words won’t flow,
I try and try, but where do they go?
With the dog in me lap and the whisky on high,
I’ll blame it on everything, but still try to fly!
🎵 Blame it on the dog, blame it on the brew,
ADHD’s got me head spinning too!
Whisky makes me dizzy, coffee’s burning bright,
I just wanna write, but me mind’s taken flight!
🎵 So here I am, with me dog at me side,
The coffee’s gone cold, and the whisky’s run dry.
But I’ll keep on writing, no matter the time,
Blame it on everything, and it’ll all turn out fine!
I return home reinvigorated, ready to finsh my tasks only to decide that what the manuscript really needs is a new title. and Now I’m listening to Procol Harum on loop in YouTube.
Stage 4: The Self-Doubt Spiral
I glance at the clock. More hours have passed, and I’ve edited precisely 14 words. The doubt creeps in: “Why did I write this? Who even cares? Should I give up writing entirely and get a drone?” (💭 Could we use drones to look for missing dogs throughout the city? Could we use drones attached to a leash to walk a dog… I wonder if anyone has sent their child to the park to play, and then watched them from a mile away on a drone?)
Cairbre watches me with a mix of concern and judgment as I sip my sixth coffee. I remind myself that ADHD is a gift—a glorious, maddening gift—and laugh at the absurdity of my spiraling thoughts. (💭 do dogs ever get ADHD? What about fish in a fish tank? Reminds me of the old joke “two fish are in a tank… neither of them knew how opporate the turret much less drive it.)
Stage 5: The Breakthrough (Sort Of)
I’m exhausted. It’s an ungodly hour on the clock. I surrender and get up to make some food and go to bed. I sit to wait for my noodles to boil when a sudden burst of energy hits. I power through edits like a storm, moving commas, rephrasing sentences, furiously my fingers create living words, I deleting half a page with reckless abandon. Bright light shines through my window. Outside, the birds are chirping. The bin men have been around with their noisy trucks. (💭Could we eliminate garbage trucks with a hole in everyone’s house that drops to a.. what do you call those black belts that convey things from one place to another… oh yeah, “conveyer belt” right to a city inferno to eliminate trash? I suppose people would use it to dispose of bodies and evidence… “body of evidence” what a strange turn of phrase…. “turn-of-phrase” is a strange phrase as well.)
I smell something burning. My macaroni is a thick paste of noodles burned and stuck to the pot on a red hot stove. (💭”Multi lined pots and pans” with multiple layers of thin steel, you could throw the liners away rather then throw the pot away when it gets ruined. Wait a minute, could I line the inside of my pot with aluminium foil?!? What if I sold a pot and pan set with replaceable exact fit aluminium inserts?!? By this time next year, we’ll be millionaires! How do they get aluminium so thin? Why don’t ehy have smoke detectors built into ovens? Why not an oven that calls out “HEY! I think something’s burning!)
Me editing’s done, time for sleep. I reach for some dog treats, Cairbre wags his tail in approval, and I reward myself with one last coffee before bed.
Before closing my laptop, with 10 youtube tabs on pause, and a dozen or so other tabs concerning various super important topics, I add a note for tomorrow: “Revisit edits. Or write a sea shanty about procrastination or maybe make a website devoted to sea shanties.”
A Note From Me
If you’ve got ADHD and think you might need help, please see a doctor. I’m no expert, just a writer who’s experimenting with an ADHD life as it comes. Whether you take meds, get therapy, or lean on friends and family, there’s no shame in seeking support. Me? I thrive on coffee, Cairbre, and chaos—but that’s just my way.
If you’d an unsolicited ADHD book reccomendation, I just finished reading “NeuroShiny: ADHD diagnosis as an adult…and what’s next” by poet and writer Dawn Vincent. https://www.dawnvincent.co.uk. I found it humourus, informative and very relatable.
Now, if you’ll excuse me, Cairbre and I are researching miniature dog chariots which, apparently is a thing.
Welcome to the first article from Clear Point News.
“Behold, our vision!” Mat exploded, causing other patrons to glance over at us. He sounded like Charlton Heston in an old Cecil B. DeMille movie. We sit, joking and excitedly discussing our plans for starting a news website. I’m drinking my Darjeeling tea and Mat with his “whatever the darkest you have, but it better not be bitter or so help me god” coffee. We begin to realize that we may just be able to do this. I’m Sasha and sitting with me is my friend and associate of nearly a decade, Mat. “When are you going to get a new one” Mat asks me as he nods his well defined aquiline nose towards my old Packard Bell laptop as I peck away on the keyboard. “Do they even make those anymore?” he continues, with a chuckle. “As long as the duct tape holding my charging port in place keeps