I'm sitting here, literally, with goosebumps. And it's not because of the 101-degree temperature I've maintained over the past three days due to a cold and upper respiratory infection. It's because I just finished reading the most recent edits for a book I've been working on for the last three years.
My editor recently sent me the final version, the version she'll take to her editorial meeting. The version that will either make or break this deal (goosebumps, again).
It's been over nine months since I've even looked at this manuscript, so I didn't remember my words exactly. As I read, I kept thinking, "wow, I love what she's done. What an amazing addition she's made." But then after checking what I had actually submitted to her, I would realize the words weren't hers. They were mine.
Good editors don't write for the author. With this manuscript, and the essay, I've learned that good editors are those who raise questions, make suggestions, and point the author in directions that he/she may not have considered. They help make a good story great.
This is all so cool. But it ain't a done deal, yet. So, mums still the word.