The final words were put on the document, ready to be sent off for the weekly assignment.

It’s been a long time since I felt this much flow in my writing, really allowing myself to get out of the way and have fun with it. I was a student within a workshop being guided along. As a teacher, it’s nice to abdicate the teaching responsibility once in a while.

(It might also explain why I spend so much time learning from others)

However, before I could send it, I needed the eye of my most trusted reader: my wife.

“Take a look and let me know, if at any point, you leave the story. If you do, tell me what line it was.”

That editing technique was something I picked up from the brilliance of Kristine Rusch. Drawing your reader into the world and having them live the story is the objective of writing. Everything else is secondary.

“Right here,” she said.

My wife then articulated very clearly what went on in her head and what caused her to leave the work. She also added extra details about unfinished projects around the house since she was already speaking in direct mode. I had to kindly remind her that when a husband says he’ll get something done, he will. You don’t have to keep asking him every six months.

This is the part where you might want to leave the story. The line didn’t land well.

However, how often do we leave the story of our own life?

Are we observers, passively waiting until something jarring comes along to take us from it and see it anew? Or do we absorb ourselves in the stream of every waking moment to experience everything we can?