Editors Suck...Hang On...I Suck

The most important thing I learned when I first joined this site, was how little I knew about writing. I really should have paid more attention at school, instead of being the class clown. That’s if I was even in class because I spent more time wagging school than I did participating.

If it were not for spell-checking programs, I wouldn’t be able to get even the slightest glimmer of an idea across to you, the reader. You would read one line and throw (metaphorically speaking) my work down in disgust, wondering why they allowed illiterates membership here.

Well...I’m not quite illiterate, but the way the mechanics of writing get marked around here, I think I was as close as can be.

I like to use three dots (called ellipsis) when I write. I had no idea it had so many meanings and connotations. It depends on who is the higher ape in the cage that is education, and therefore superior in the field of excellent ellipsis, good grammar, and perfect punctuation, how ellipsis should be used. And, I use ellipsis a lot more than the establishment (or correct punctuation) desires.

I also struggle with forming sentences, not understanding where to place commas and full stops. One day someone was kind enough to point out where said punctuation marks belong, but I failed on the first hurdle because I had no idea what they were talking about when they told me where to place a ‘period’. I’m sorry, but I had no idea punctuation and menstruation were related (talk about bleeding hearts and artists).

So (another trait of mine...starting sentences with the word ‘So’), in my blissfully ignorant first couple of weeks here, I tapped away at my keyboard, as happy as can be. Telling anyone who cared to read my woefully written stories, things they couldn’t understand. Because if those ‘word mechanics’ who gave me the old ‘this is technically incorrect’ spiel are to be believed, I might as well have been writing in Chinese (number 5...your chicken fried rice is ready).

Reviewers were (as per instructions given by site management) kind, to say the least. People were very nice and I believed I would be a shining light in the field of writing. But, as time went by, things began to go awry. In the end, it wasn't kindness that would be my saviour, but critique...the truth. And you know what ‘They’ (I have no idea who ‘They’ are, but God bless ’em for their honesty) say about truth.

Well, it’s, “You can’t handle the truth!”

So, I began to space out my paragraphs because someone told me this is the way we do things online; thank you very much...point taken.

As for my progression in the art of writing, it became apparent I had selected the wrong gear, and was driving around in reverse. And the term ‘regression’ was more apt in my case.

And then, the cherry on top of my proverbial cake, when a friend, who had previously worked as an editor for some not-so-glossy rag mag, offered to help me in my quest to become a respectable, grammatically and punctually perfect writer.

Oh, the joy. I was finally going to receive the accolades I so richly deserved.

My flawed monologue was dispatched along the inter-web, where it received the treatment it sorely needed, and post-haste was returned to sender, all fixed up to perfection.

I couldn’t wait to read me...only better.

But alas, this piece I had put my heart and soul into was not the piece I had sent to my friend. It had all of the ideas that mine contained and a lot of the clever little storytelling quirks I love so much, but the rest was...well, the rest was written by someone else.

My dummy hit the floor. I stomped my feet and sent an indignant retort, advising her that her services were no longer required...SO THERE!

But upon reflection, perhaps she was right to change my text, adding some here and removing some there. Perhaps it is I who should be poked in the eye with an indignant stick (although global warming has reduced the number of Indignant trees, and not many sticks are available right now).

Then, the thought came...I SUCK...and maybe I would be better off (as would the readers of any future tripe I may spew forth) if I took up painting.