My heart stopped when someone told me to get an editor, for the second time. Yes, my cousin did tell me that, but when it comes from somebody else, I freeze. I know that I need one, that I have to have an editor. But hey hey hey.
Having an editor is like having that partner in life who understands you from the depths of your mind and soul. It’s like having someone read you between the lines, knowing and understanding you in totality that no one else can. It’s like having someone beside you, typing or writing your every thought even when that person isn’t beside you.
Having an editor means entrusting your brain, your mind, your soul, your heart to someone who will edit and make your outputs better. It means giving your drafts to that person, trusting him or her that he will be able to understand how you think and feel and probably make something out of it that would look more refined than ever.
Yes, I’d love to have one. The only problem is me. I am afraid that someone who knows me would read what I wrote. I am afraid that someone from this area would read me. I am afraid of being recognized, being known. Yes, I’d love an editor. Who does not want one? My writing needs polishing and improvement, a development into the next level. But having an editor for a person like me? Do you really think someone is prepared enough to face the real me?