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I have to admit that a secret (until now) ambition of mine is to write and be published. I enjoy writing, though I don't remember enjoying it so much when I was in school. Perhaps it is the receiving of a grade that sucks the fun out of writing at a young age. However, as an adult I have enjoyed writing - thoughts, ideas, journalings, curriculums, talks - I have found great satisfaction in the written word and what I learn about myself and life and as write.
It was well over a year ago, I was invited along with many hundreds of women to submit a brief devotional about mother's and daughters. I sent in two submissions, laboriously editing and re-editing to bring it in within their small word number requirement. It was then I realized I love to elaborate - but this could not be the case. I sent and waited, and waited, and waited and waited to hear. Nothing. This was the agreement, you hear only if you are chosen. The deadline passed. I moved on.
In December, I received a call stating my submission was accepted! The book would come out in March. The submission they chose was not my favorite (why didn't they like that one?), but I was now going to be published and paid - only twenty dollars - but paid none the less!
On receipt of my complimentary copy of the book, I hurriedly looked at the index and found my name! I went to the page number and came face to face what writers throughout the ages experience - editing. My first sentence - tossed. Words changed. The last sentence, not even mine. It was all a little anti-climatic. So much so, it has taken me over a month to even let people know the book existed. I understand the purpose of editing, clarity, continuity etc. It is a humbling experience to know that my labor intensive self-editing was not enough. I felt like I received a letter grade with lots of red marks.
And yet, that is what life is like. We look at ourselves and our achievements and don't see the flaws, errors or improvements we need. Maybe I need to invite more editing into my life.
