I want to bottle it up and stash it on a shelf somewhere, so I can take sips of it every time it doesn’t happen. It’s a truly wonderful, gooey, fuzzy feeling. Try it on a Monday and it will make you wonder why work ever gets you down. It’s what makes every thoughtful and articulate edit suggested, come coupled with the best intentions for the story held firmly in place. That every change is merely suggested, so respectfully and gently, tells me that my editor is guarding the authenticity of my voice, and doing her best to bring out the story without losing it.
I’m slowly beginning to love the feeling I get when an editor in a distant city reads a submission and somehow manages to get right to the heart of it, despite the lack of background or prior context.
I live for moments like this. It reinforces the belief that there is hope for honest collaboration and work relationships based on nothing but the merit of work alone. No social media pimping, no PR frills, no braggy CVs to ride on.
Yes, the story (and my story too) has changed a little, but it is (I am) so much better for it.