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Lovefest With My Words


I love my words. I caress them and kiss them and adore how witty they appear on paper. I labor over each syllable with my blood, sweat and tears giving birth to remarkable prose, narratives and poetry. (All of which will make me rich and famous someday.)


Oh please, don't try to convince me you don't love your written words as much as I do mine. And I can prove it with one word.


Editor.


Told you. I bet the hairs on the back of your neck stood up and quivered while goosebumps ran down your spine. All because the underappreciated editor did his/her job. Let's face it, an editor with a red pen (or delete button nowadays) means death to some of my words...usually the ones I cherish the most.


When an editor picks up that pen, I envision she's out to get me. I believe her goal is to make me a better me because the old me isn't good enough. I'm insulted when she's not as passionate about my words as I am. I interpret her edit as a personal affront to my creativity and skill as a writer.


When an editor picks up that pen, her intention is not to attack me as a person or a writer. She envisions a good book becoming an even better book. She knows that, via a few tweeks and corrections (okay, sometimes a lot of them), what was passable before can become a treasured book someone has been looking for their entire life.


Hopefully, I'll keep my insecurities in check the next time I'm tempted to throw my body across my editor's desk and knock that red pen out of her hand while screaming, "Not to one of my babies, you don't."


I told you I love my words.




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