I will say, editing a book is nothing like writing a book. It's full of lessons in humility and going "what the hell, you utter numpty". All sorts of violent predicaments ensue, but I manage to pick my way through most of them.
Right now, the biggest challenge is to (in the words of a great writer whose name eludes me) pick apart everything that is not the story, and kindly set it aside.
It's not easy, especially when you're so keen on introspection and self-discovery, but I force myself to put aside my psychologist's glasses, and look at it from a writer's perspective.
There comes a time when I get to look at it from a reader's perspective, and it was here a while ago, but it's not here now.
I'm having a good time, though.
I realize how much work goes into writing properly. How little I thought of it, when I was younger. How I thought I could just write anything and call it a masterpiece, except it doesn't really work like that. It's grueling, and I am, as I go, a little worried about getting trapped inside this never-ending process.
I hope not. I've promised myself one more round, and then I'll give it out for beta reading. We'll see from there on how many more rounds come up.
Down the process, I've come up against several worthwhile questions. Like.
Who is speaking?
How are the characters distinct enough from the beating core of them all, which is myself, to be on their own recognizable?
Why is this story worth telling? And why is it worth telling now?
In a way, it's a story as old as time. All of them are. Which isn't necessarily a good answer. I have some idea why now, and even why it's worth telling in the first place, but I think I'm still defining this answer.
How is the story salting the protagonist?
Because if it's not, what is the point?
I find this one particularly difficult to answer, because I observe myself, and see the ways in which my own story has salted me, but know also of the secret, sacred place in which I am still a child, and find it hard not to remember that place also, for my characters.
It's quite an interesting ride, one I'm very excited to be on at the moment. And all this ramble, just to tell you I haven't had much time for music, so I've gone, as is my custom, back to songs I carried with me through my own salting. Songs that helped me come back with teeth, which now help me edit this story. Ahoj, 
In many ways, it is a story about living a life not meant for you, about having your life blocked (if not always through malevolence). Perhaps that's why I've come back to this now.
Cause I can make you every inch a king
Before I do it, tell me, tell me what's in it for me?
Because as I mature with my writing, I find ways to include my sexuality into my work without it being wanton, or just for the sake of provocation.
Because sure, isn't it also in many ways a story of coming back with some fucking teeth?
