I mentioned yesterday that my Detroit piece from the magazine started out a lot larger--at one point ballooning to 7,000 words--but it never coalesced in a way to justify it's size. It started it out as freelance piece elsewhere, but was killed after a few drafts, basically for the reason stated above. I had a gaggle of interesting reporting but never figured how to hang on something and make it an actual "story." Anyway, I always try to challenge myself as a writer. But in doing that, I sometimes fail.
In a series of candid video interviews, women talk about self-image, self-judgment, and what it means to love their bodies