I mean, but fuck editing tho.
No really, fuck it. (See this in case there is confusion about why.)
I was originally going to write a post about all the nuances in a really good editor. It takes being edited by a really good editor to appreciate just how necessary one is. A good editor tells you where things got off and then they tell you why, and the why isn’t some poorly decorated version of ‘you are bad at this and possibly also bad at life, generally’. It is something specific and functional and manageable. A good editor tells you what they need without confusing it with what they want.
I have a few very dear friends who have edited my stuff for me. I was gonna write about all the things they did that were helpful, but I have to get up in five hours, so I’m going to stick with the newest development in my sad, sticky journal (pamphlet) of adulting: editing isn’t just a good idea, it is necessary. (TA DA!!! am genius.) Like music lessons if you want to improve on your instrument, or math lessons if you want to even understand the title of the damn textbook, or a shitstick dictionary if you’re a seven-word-having nubbin who is tired of her own repetitive fuckery. Wait I got sidetracked.
The good editors (aka entirely too magnanimous friends) in my life have found things that would not only have slipped by forever if I’d never asked them for help, but that also, simultaneously, change the way I write the next thing. The way I approach the entire writing task is different because of the new (to me) aspects I’ve been given to consider. I am not just producing a better piece of writing; I am altering the way I write so that I will produce better writing the next time around as well. That’s not me; that’s the editing. That’s a technique that turned out to be so much more than I thought it would be.
So, that’s all. I’m exhausted. I have to cut my toenails. I have no idea how to finish this post, and no, it will not be edited. Because, getting up in less than five hours. But, I’m grateful to have realized my need for editing. And, I’m sure there are at least a couple readers out there who will scream a little more softly when they read my stuff.