It’s sort of a strange thing to edit one’s own stories (and why editors are no doubt crucial), as there are so many ideas, side stories, histories, futures and thoughts that never make it to paper, but are nonetheless integral to the imagined experience of a character. Trying to edit is sort of like knowing how a full symphony sounds, but being tasked with only making sure the second oboe’s part is resonant and amenable to anyone happening upon just that one part. Distance helps, but it isn’t long before the horns and strings join in. This is the 5th attempt, and probably gets it the furthest along — by far the longest effort, too. It’s a difficult story to explain; this is probably the best description to date, though it only touches on the part of the iceburg seen above the surface:
The tale of a young birdwatcher who has come to expect that his interactions with others will end badly, though he doesn’t always have a clear understanding as to why. He begins to form an identity – for better and for worse – from his interest in the birds, and it leads, coincidentally, to other, unexpected and unlikely interests, as well as new friendships and the rekindling of old acquaintances. Though he finds many experiences to support his expectations, it is those that do not that he finds most difficult to accept.
Writer from the Detroit area