So when they asked for my editorial eyes, I felt a little out of my element. I'm a great writer, and as much as that might be bragging, I've come to accept that it is what it is. No point in hiding my light under a bushel basket (to mangle a bible quote). Editing others' works is another story. I don't have much experience with it, outside of giving ten years olds feedback on the text portion of their science projects. With adults, I often find myself struggling to edit in a way that preserves their voice and style. In other words, I struggle with making edits that help the piece, not commandeer it.
Let me tell you a story to put this anxiety in some perspective.
When I was twenty, I went with a group of a dozen or so people from UVA down to New Orleans the February after Katrina to gut houses. They stayed at my parents' house, and we toured the city together, showing them what life was like for New Orleanians at the time. It was an empowering experience for me, but an emotionally-charged one, as well. There was one day that I had to just stay home and sleep, exhausted from playing the tour guide and simultaneously trying not to burst into tears at every moment.
There was a guy who flew down with us that I didn't know prior to the mission trip. His name was Peter, and after that week, it became clear that there was something between us. Enough of something to date for a full year and a half, anyway. On the one-year anniversary of Katrina, about six months later, he gave me a short story he'd written. In it, there was a girl mourning the city after the flooding, and a man that didn't know how to help her besides loving her. It was sweet, and it was poignant, and it had a need for editing.
And so, I edited it.
I didn't make major changes--I fixed some comma splices, run-on sentences, and so on--but the end result did end up resembling my writing style more than the original.
The worst part was not that I edited it, though. The worst part was that after editing it, I never once thought, "Wow, it would be a really terrible idea to give this to him." So, without that sliver of relationship common sense (in my defense, he was my first boyfriend), I printed out the new copy, and I gave it to him.
In the next however many years of my life that I have left, I hope to never again see the face he made on a man I love. Wounded is probably the best word to describe it. Maybe offended. Maybe shocked. Whatever it was, it wasn't good.
The relationship recovered--for a time--but that small event was probably strongly representative of how the whole thing went. He was him. And I tried to fix it.
So, when someone asks me to edit something, I immediately start to get the nervous sweats. When I send thoughts, I worry that what I send back will elicit the same wounded face. As a result, I've avoided editing others' writing as much as possible.
This time, though, I accepted the task as a honor. These great writers and human beings, these people who have so many amazing stories and talents to share, they've asked me to give feedback. It is a gift to be able to participate even a little bit in the formation of their pieces. And this time around, I took extra care to use their words. To preserve their style. To change as little as possible. To only suggest what would best highlight their theme and their voice.
I don't know if I did a good job. That remains to be seen. But I feel good about it. And I'm excited. So excited.
I hope you are, too.
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