Clarity comes by re/viewing from another's perspective

...spring will come again...

Doing something once is good, but when that one time is the first time we have done it, our results can (usually) benefit from some critical feedback. This goes for just about anything we tackle in our lives, and it goes especially for writers -- this writer doesn't always like it, but she knows more often than not it's true: critique improves the work. 

When I submitted my first 101-word fiction story to an online site, I waited months for a response. When it came, it was NO. The editor's feedback stated the timeline was problematic and the emotions were unclear. Harrumph, said I. Closed the message and sulked for a bit. 

A while later, I went back to the story and looked with a clear eye and open mind at what I had written. I had two responses: on the emotions, the editor misread the story despite the blatant clue it closes with, but on the timeline, I could grant that greater clarity could be presented with a re-write and different structure. 

Editing is one of the most challenging tasks a writer can develop; certainly, it is a challenging skill to teach. Because, once the basics of language, form and structure are sorted, much of writing comes down to style and sensibility -- the writer's voice, their perspective, and their presentation of the words on the page. 

I think the original version (see below) of my story "Composting outside the rules" stands, but I also think my revised version (further below) presents the same story with greater clarity for the reader. What do you think? Was the editor's read beneficial or were my revisions redundant? 

Either way, both versions live here as testament to the value of re/viewing our work in the light of critical comments by an outsider. No matter our métier, another's perspective on our work can bring greater clarity to what we are wanting to achieve.  

ORIGINAL 

Composting outside the rules

After the long white winter, brown bags begin to appear on the street. By the time the trees are greening, I am getting used to your absence. I take your grey body from the freezer, put it into the brown bag, left over from last season. Light as a feather, small enough to fit, you settle between layers of fall leaves. You look peaceful. Your still heart still master of mine. From earth to earth and dust to dust, thanks to the municipal yard waste program. Now I have only your blue collar to remember you by. It is not biodegradable.

REVISED

Composting outside the rules

After a long white winter, the trees are budding green and the brown bags are appearing on the street again.

I am getting used to your absence, so it’s time to take you, now light as a feather, from the freezer and lay you into the brown bag, kept specially from last season.

Your grey body is small enough to fit, settled between layers of brittle-dry fall leaves. You look peaceful.

From earth to earth and dust to dust, thanks to the municipal yard waste program.

Now I have only your blue collar to remember you by.

It is not biodegradable.

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Land acknowledgement: I respectfully recognize that I live on the original lands of Anishinaabe, Cree, Oji-Cree, Dakota and Dene peoples, and on the homeland of the Métis Nation.