in The Sense of an Ending,
asks, “How often do we tell our own life story? How often do we adjust, embellish, make sly cuts? And the longer life goes on, the fewer are those around to challenge our account, to remind us that our life is not our life, merely the story we have told about our life. Told to others, but—mainly—to ourselves.”
What is life story that you tell? In general, how accurate is it? Are some parts more fiction than fact? What are those? And why all that fiction?