The Bird Flies Off

Another challenge is knowing what to cut. How much of a thing can be removed without destroying its inherent truth? One answer, which is probably more accurate than helpful, is as much as possible.

Then it becomes a question of particles, of breaking down a work on an atomic level. What belongs and what is merely scaffolding used to find the part that belongs? It's impossible to know until that scaffolding has been lain and examined.

* * *

There was a passage describing the lead character's band. It isn't horrible, but it doesn't exactly belong. It explains a situation that might not need explaining, at least not there and then. Maybe later on, when we're in the middle of some other scene, it will come up naturally. So for now it sits in a bin marked “This might come in handy at some point, or not.”

Snappy name for a bin, no?

* * *

Also, how do we delineate time? Is it always a forward progression, or can there be back and forth movement like waves in the ocean, pushing and pulling? Think of brush strokes on canvas. A sense of contiguity comes from discrete parts that form the illusion of a unified object.

* * *

Meanwhile, this bird keeps perching atop a pine tree in the backyard. Is it the same bird every time? Who can know such things?

* * *

Questions keep coming, which is a good thing. Without those, there is no need for answers. Without a need for answers, there is no reason to keep going. Without a reason to keep going... well, you see the problem there.

The bird flies off, then returns. It keeps coming back, like so many questions. This might come in handy at some point, or not.