This week’s post from Naturist Fiction comes a day late. It wasn’t until I logged into my computer when I realised just what day it was. Somehow, Monday had vanished. I’m getting old and forgetful. Well, the getting old is real enough, but I’ve always been a forgetful kind of person, one who is easily distracted, especially when I’m busy with writing. Or as in the present, busy with the editing process of a book. When I’m not editing, I am either on the beach by the ocean wearing as little as possible, and sometimes nothing at all. It’s hot here in Ecuador.
I had originally planned to write about short story project, however it’s not the time for that blog post. I do want to confirm that I wrote a short story which my wife enjoyed and which will be included in the anthology. Well I guess it could be time for that post, but that’s not where my head is at. Editing is where I’m at. Now, that statement actually is an understatement. Trying to describe editing is like an all-encompassing obsession or possession.
A good example, perhaps, is in order to describe editing from my experience, especially as experienced at the present time. I turn on my laptop -for me editing on my tablet or phone is a hopeless task- and open the current document being edited. Then, with it ready, I get distracted. It doesn’t take much to distract me. Still, the pull to the document soon has me focus despite my wanting to do something else. Several hours later, I resurface. The ocean tide has its turn to make demands on me. Yet, even while walking along the beach with my wife, typically a ten kilometre walk, the editing questions intrude.
I’m not complaining. Editing is vital to ensure that what was intended actually gets written in a manner that would allow a reader to more easily immerse themselves in the story. Editing allows a story to appear as an authentic and realistic tale, regardless of the genre. And for authors of Naturist Fiction such as Paul and Will, what emerges is art.