Learning to let the story unfold

Several of my stories are 1st person narratives from a teen voice.  They are solid stories with compelling plots. One of them was what snagged the interest of my agent, Nephele Tempest.  That book, though it garned a lot of editor attention, didn't sell.

The feedback we got from those editors talked about voice, but at the time, I wasn't sure how to fix what they saw as the flaw in what was otherwise a story they really liked.

Fast forward several manuscripts and several crit groups later. I'm in a small group with 2 other novelists.  We've gone a few rounds of meetings and they've offered me priceless feedback on two of my 1st person novels.  I think I'm finally seeing what I couldn't see before.

One of my writing 'tics' is to use narrative to summarize in order to get to what happens next.  And that summary ends up sounding not like my character's voice, but like my own, in voiceover.  My crit partners didn't put in in these terms, but what I think has to happen is that I need to let the story unfold, rather than drive it forward.  The way to do that is by deeper immersion into my character; choosing critical aspects of the story and letting the reader experience what he sees.

Here is an example of putting that into practice:

I wasn't the only one not happy to be there. Devon Smithfield was in group and he was also in just about all my classes. I guess because we're both fatherless boys, that's supposed to make us buds. At least that's what Ms. Stanhope seems to think. And long after she's gone to some other internship, I'll still be trapped in therapy group purgatory with Devon. No one's supposed to know, but his dad’s in federal jail for embezzlement. If he’s lucky, he’ll be able to see his son graduate from college. It would be a lot simpler if my dad was in prison. "Langdon?" God, I hate it when teachers call me that. Ms. Stanhope was looking down at my desk and frowning. I must’ve spaced out in group again and while my brain was busy elsewhere, my right hand was drawing. It was like last night's dream spilled out on the page. Somehow my pencil managed to capture the deep shadows lurking behind the windows and the danger twisted in the wrought iron railings.

I shuffled into the classroom and dragged one of the desks away from the semicircle Ms. Stanhope had carefully arranged. Devon Smithfield was right behind me. He sneered and took the seat at the opposite end of the room, both of us ignoring the rest of the kids. He pulled one of his earbuds out and pretended to listen to Ms. Stanhope struggle to get all of us talking. I felt sorry for her. Devon Fucking Smithfield. He was in just about all my classes. I guess because we're a pair of fatherless boys, that's supposed to make us buds. At least that's what Ms. Stanhope seems to think. Long after she's gone to some other internship, I'll still be trapped in therapy group purgatory with Devon. No one's supposed to know, but the feds sent his dad to jail for embezzlement. If he’s lucky, he’ll be able to see his son graduate from college. It would be a lot simpler if my dad was in prison. "Langdon?" God, it was bad enough that my mom called me that this morning. Ms. Stanhope was looking down at my desk and frowning. It wasn't a look that went well with her pink sweater and pearls, the blond pony tail, the sympathetic blue eyes. I was sure there was a course in social worker school on how to look completely earnest. She had probably aced it. I looked down, trying to figure out why she was singling me out. I certainly wasn't the only one who spaced out in group. But while my brain was busy elsewhere, my right hand had been drawing. It was still gripping the pencil I didn't remember taking from my bag. I forced my fingers to open. The pencil rolled across my open math notebook until it hit the metal spiral. Even closing my eyes, I couldn't avoid the image of last night's dream spilled out across the page. Somehow I managed to capture the deep shadows lurking behind the windows and the danger twisted in the wrought iron railings.

The section on the left was an older draft. The section on the right, the result of this morning's work. Any thoughts?