Ahh, annual airing of insecurities.
And today I shall come out and say the unthinkable, “I don’t have an editor.” This is a mortal sin in the publishing world. And I get it, I do. I’m a lousy proofreader. In addition to my love of weirdly arranged sentences, I have this horrible habit of hitting the comma key every time I stop to think. And I don’t always catch the random ones, or know where to put them ones that aren’t supposed to be random.
And yet, I still publish my work. I feel highly conspicuous about it too. Like there’s this big blinking neon sign with an arrow over my stories.
The thing is, I cannot afford an editor. I have three kids, and I haven’t worked in nearly five years, because I would have had to pay more in child care than I got paid. Writing has been my solace and my peace of mind these past few years. And I am truly prolific.
So should I sit on all these stories until I can afford an editor, which might be never? Or put them out there, edited to the best of my ability (and my friends who will help), knowing that the general public doesn’t care more about random commas than a good story?
I, obviously, made my choice.
And why is that if you record an album in your living room with kid crying and phones ringing in the background you’re an indie god that’s bucking the system and staying true to yourself, but if you publish without an editor you’re a hack who can’t take rejection and doesn’t take your work seriously? And if you can show me an professionally edited book without a single grammar error or typo, I will eat a 100 dollar bill in front you, without salt.
And despite knowing all of that, I still feel like there’s a blinking neon arrow over my stories…