Into the Fire

I am not an editor. I’m a fairly decent proofreader, though. I’m not a book reviewer, although I could write an opinion if I had to, but I’d rather not (too much like a book report in school). I can critique a manuscript strictly from the it works/doesn’t work, like it/don’t like it, this is good, bad/this isn’t . . ., etc.

I write. Novels. Novels that editors shrivel and gag and sputter at because of their size. Great. Novels that editors think couldn’t possibly hold anyone’s attention anymore. Not in our world of fast, faster, and fastest. Novels that editors assume have way, way too many words. Unnecessary, overdone, commonplace, indistinctive, adjectives, adverbs, boring verbs, and words. Too, too many. And peripheral characters that you actually know something about . . . characters that weave their ways into the story line if you’re patient enough to read through the story and see how everyone in our lives can be significant–especially in the life of a Christian–because God might give us one divine moment with a person that will stick with us forever, that will mean an enormous amount to our spiritual life because of that moment of impact that He alone could’ve arranged. It might be more than a moment, it might be several, or an event, or an Esther experience “for such a time as this”.

I think being an editor is the hardest job in the world of literature. When do you get to “go home” for the night? When do you get to stop reading like an editor? Can they do it? Turn it on and off like a lamp? Do they read just for fun? Do they ever get to take pleasure in a story for the sake of the story without putting it into the strict parameters of what it must be to qualify for publication–even if it’s already in book form? Do they toss away the books they read and purchase privately if they don’t measure up to those parameters? In the first 5 pages–the first 20 pages? Or do they confine their “pleasure reading” to authors they’re sure they like and only read someone else if highly recommended by people with like tastes as theirs. Do they even do “pleasure reading”? What about if they do wish to take a chance on a book which exceeds, challenges, or even rips apart the parameters? And then the group at the table nixes it. I admire editors, and I fear them. Their talent is undeniable, their skills commendable, necessary, and required for better books.

We’re encouraged to write the stories God has given us to tell, to be true to those stories, to work hard and polish the writing until it shines like Grandma’s silver. Then submit it with our sterling proposals, our enticing queries, our stunning synopses. Buy, lease, or borrow all the skill books for doing these chores with aplomb and wait. For months sometimes. Easy, huh?

Can you tell I’m frustrated, and momentarily discouraged? It won’t last . . . this too shall pass. I have to write at this time in my life. It’s what I do now. I’m writing the stories He has given me, and I’ll work hard to make them honorable in His eyes. It’s His choice how and where they end up, not mine. That much I know.

Father, for all of us who are somewhat frustrated and discouraged, remind us of your foresight, your instruction, your magnificent blessings, your unequaled power, and, yes, your miraculous abilities. Let us rest in your ability and not our own. May we gather together at your feet in one accord and ask that you would continue to direct our steps, our writing hands, the use of the gifts you’ve given us, and may we bless you with our love and devotion to you–and may it ever increase. Thank you, Holy Spirit, for your comfort and counsel. May we always acknowledge that everything good and perfect comes from the Father and may we never seem ungrateful. In the precious and powerful Name of Jesus, Amen.