Write or Wrong

The other day I talked to a writing friend of mine. She has been working on a piece for the last year and half. I think she finished the story in about two or three months and now is in the process of editing and editing and editing. Every time we talk about writing, I ask her how it’s going. She gives me this exhausted smile as if she’s been in labor for the last twelve months. We’re pretty close and she knows I’m the opposite of her. I can spit out ten different story ideas while crossing the street. It makes her dizzy. What I find interesting about our particular dynamics is that we think the other person is doing it right. She complains she is taking to long to finish. I complain I’m not careful or patient enough to write a truly finished piece. She is meticulous in her details, cautious to the point of immobility. I overflow, spewing out everything and have no boundaries.
Recently we got into a heated argument about each others styles as if we were the experts on writing. Ha! I laugh now, because I can laugh at almost anything, given time and space. I thought about it for awhile (a whole five minutes) and I realize as inexperienced writers, we were each finding our own style of how to work. My friend hasn’t quite yet come to this conclusion. She’s still editing the idea!