Wednesday, May 4, 2011
editing yikes!
I got an email from the editor of the book Wings of Angels. All the formalities seem very strange to me. This is a very small children's story and yet it is given the same respect as a full blown novel. Respect is a huge gift. Writing is hard. It's not putting words on a page that is hard for me but allowing someone else to read it... that's the hard part. I don't mind people who tell it like it is. Some will say, "geeze, your too real for me." I'm good with that but it's the hidden contempt that still hooks me. How can tell, really, what people are thinking? Why do I care? That's a good question. Why does hidden contempt have so much power? I have no real clue, but as this story I wrote morphs into a book on library shelves, I find myself in need of deeper connection with Jesus. He is my only hope of getting through the fear of what people will think of the author after they read it. I hope that they won't think of me at all... only life and death and Jesus most of all.
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