Editors Are Not Bad

Each month I meet with my editor in a dark corner of a local coffee shop. Huddled at what will surely be our "regular" table, we talk about kids, travel, Alaska, and The Book. While we've had a mere handful of these formal meetings, I can already see the value of having a second pair of eyes and a completely unique skill set to enable me to pull off this project.

It used to be hard to let anyone read my words, be they editor, mother, friend, or spouse. I'll even go so far as to say I really don't like reading my own stuff, either. I always find things I wished I had stated in a different format, or think of a particular point I forgot until after I sent in the work.

This is why I like Editor. She is calm, professional, and never mean to me. This is important - I come from a lifetime of Catholic education and still have nightmares about middle school English teachers who would throw books, and yell; an editor who does none of these things is quite valuable to my still-fragile ego. Editor is also quite dedicated. Today she informed me that both her laptop and iPhone had gone to the graveyards, but there she was, pen in hand, my manuscript on the table, scribbling and drawing and getting the job done. I love it.

Editor plays a key role in The Book's gestation. She is the voice of sanity when I think I've written too much, or not enough. She thinks of those forgotten topics at just the right time, and understands that I am new at this whole publishing thing. She is honest without being obnoxious, kind without being condescending. Plus, I love the little computer program thingie that makes my edits from her edits so, so seamless.

I have a lot of days when writing is just plain hard. After I meet with Editor, though, the words seem to flow better, and the finished product becomes a more visible, like peering through a dirty pane of glass to a beautiful sunrise on the other side. Best $$ I ever spent, in my Book.