The Humbling and Nurturing Work of a Good Editor
Last summer my husband peeled a small branch from a tree on the trail we walk each night. He planted it in a pot to nurture it to the point of becoming a full-grown tree for our yard. We’d already tried taking slips from other trees, but each one refused to take root. My husband was hopeful. I was doubtful.
He stuck the slip in a blue pot on our front doorstep. Each day as I paced the floors with a baby on my hip, I glanced out the window to check the progress of our branch. I watched as the original leaves slowly darkened to a muddy brown, curling and twisting until they completely wilted and fell into the soil. Just as I expected, I thought.
Yet for some reason I continued to look out the window. Perhaps merely from habit. Whatever the reason, I peered at it each day, staring at the bare twig sticking out of the mud. One day I stopped and drew closer to the window. I squinted my eyes in disbelief. Tiny green buds were growing on the stem. Somehow, there was growth from the death.
As writers, we endure many deaths in order to grow. Our “darlings” fall before our eyes as editors cut them from our work—from beloved words to entire paragraphs we labored over. This is the process of the outer bark and old leaves wilting away. But as writers, we can trust these deaths will sprout growth too—not just in our writing, but in our lives too.
The Wilting of Our Pride
I remember the first article I had accepted for online publication. Pride swelled at my accomplishment. My writing had reached the level of being worthy of publication somewhere other than my own barely-read blog.
I raced through the email from the editor while my heart thumped in my chest. I sat on the edge of my faded loveseat with my laptop perched on my knees. They loved the article and were excited to have it published on their website. They’d made some edits and suggestions on the piece that they wanted me to review before it went live. With shaky hands, I opened the document.
My pride was quickly extinguished as I scrolled through comment after comment, red mark after red mark, change after change. As I dug through the edits, I wondered why they’d even bothered accepting my article if it was full of so many problems.
As writers, it’s easy to become discouraged at the red dashes and critical comments. Shame slinks in like an insect in the night, seeking to devour our developing roots. Shame attacks our identity as writers and sees the gentle criticisms, kind corrections, and humble suggestions as signs we’re the worst of writers. It seeks to destroy our love for writing and burden us with fear and embarrassment. The joy of writing wilts. The editing that should have brought life only ends in the slow death of discouragement.
Or perhaps the shame takes another turn and strives to bolster our pride. Instead of embarrassment, we feel anger and indignation that someone thinks our writing needs improvement. We fight back against every changed word and pruned phrase. We aim to protect our writing, yet we reap the same result: death without revival. Our writing ultimately suffers and wilts without the pruning and nurturing of editors.
Moving Forward with Humility
We have a choice as to how we will move forward when our writing is edited. Will we hide in shame? Will we storm away in anger? Or will we embrace this small death knowing new life will come from the pain?
When we think our words are un-editable and our sentences are as tight and succinct as possible, the editor (hopefully gently) bursts our pride and shows us how our piece could improve even still. Each article or chapter covered in red marks and strikethroughs reminds us that our writing will never reach perfection. The red lines remind us there will always be room to grow and improve. And this, in turn, cultivates humility—not just in our writing, but in our hearts as well.
Humility isn’t the same as self-hatred and self-doubt. We can be confident in our call and skill as a writer while still bearing the meekness and self-awareness of someone who is also a work in progress. As counselor Alison Cook writes,
Self-doubt leads you to constantly second-guess yourself, which is a downward spiral to people pleasing and codependency. It’s not how we honor God. The spiritual fruit of humility, on the other hand, goes hand in hand with confidence. It’s a deep awareness of your strengths, as well as your limitations. Humility empowers you to love and lead others with integrity. It’s not hiding. Instead, it’s actively using your gifts in a way that honors God.
We can step forward with the conviction that as we endure many tiny deaths—the wilting of our beloved old leaves—new, green buds are about to sprout. Let’s anticipate the beauty, truth, and goodness that will one day spring up if we only press on.
Ways a Good Editor Nurtures Growth
How do we know when an editor is trustworthy to handle our words? Here are a few traits of a faithful editor:
A good editor wants to encourage you, not just tear you down. I’m thankful that all my experiences with editors have been characterized by kind encouragement mixed with gentle correction. But I know that’s not always the case. If your editor (whether a friend or professional) only criticizes your work in an unkind manner and never encourages you, it may be time to find a new editor.
A good editor will show you how to improve your writing. If your editor only gives you positive feedback on your work and never raises any questions or concerns, they’re probably not the best person to edit your writing. Even the best writer goes through multiple drafts. A good editor loves you and your readers enough to tell you how to improve.
A good editor cares about your message, not just your grammar. Grammar, spelling, and typos are important—a single misspelled word or misplaced comma can cause confusion and hinder our message. But a good Christian editor also cares that our message is true and accurate to Scripture.
A good editor cares about your heart, not just publishing your words. There are many times I’ve sought to write on a topic I wasn’t ready to write on. I wrote from a place of authority without experience; I wrote out of anger rather than love; I tried to write stories that weren’t ready to be shared because I knew they would get clicks. I needed my closest friends to come alongside me and say, “Not yet, friend.”
A good editor cares about your tone. It’s easy to read a post online and become angered and fiery. You have so much to say on this topic and the world needs to hear it. But a good editor will recognize when your tone is out of line. They’ll hear the snarl in your writing. And they’ll be willing to say, “I think you need to think through this a bit more.”
If you have this kind of editor, thank them. This kind of editing is hard. If you don’t, find a friend who knows you well enough to see these mistakes and loves you deeply enough to be honest. As Jen Wilkin wrote, “My best writing advice is this: Let iron sharpen iron. If you blog, build a freditorial team. Through both affirmation and correction, they will hone your writing, helping you communicate with precision and integrity. A writer can ask for no truer friends than those.”
Ever Growing and Dying and Growing Again
Since that first accepted submission, my writing has improved. I blush as I reread old articles and see how weak my writing once was. God has used many editors, friends, and mentors over the years to nurture me into the writer I am. And those people will continue to help prune me into a better writer as the years go on.
Writer, find good editors. And thank them—profusely. Refuse to let the painful deaths their edits bring discourage you from ever writing again. Refuse to let shame tell you this death and humility isn’t worth it. Instead, write on and trust that new growth (both in your writing and in your heart) will spring up from this death—one edit at a time.
Lara d’Entremont is a wife and mom to three from Nova Scotia, Canada. Lara is a writer and learner at heart—always trying to find time to scribble down some words or read a book. Her desire in writing is to help women develop solid theology they can put into practice—in the mundane, the rugged terrain, and joyful moments. You can find more of her writing at laradentremont.com.