Your Writer’s Voice

My grandfather wrote two books, late in life, in the last years before he died. He had his daughters—the oldest of which is my mother—who are all talented in their own right, “edit” them.

I loved my grandfather, but he was the unquestioned patriarch of the family and he could be an immovable post. I told my mother, without having even read the book, that what he needed was a professional editor.

His response? “I don’t want to because I want it to have my voice.”

So, he self-published, and I received a copy. It’s sitting on the shelf right in front of me as I type this, about one-third read. One-painful-third.

He did need a professional editor. So did I. So does every writer, in my opinion. What’s more, a good professional editor won’t change your voice, doesn’t want to touch your voice, because that would be like slicing up the flowers in the flower arrangement they are trying to assemble.

Few times in your life (thank you Mrs. Benton, Miss Deeter, and my husband) will someone so selflessly work so hard to make you look as good as your editor will.

Grandpa was a world-class storyteller, but I found it so hard to fight through the problems in his writing that I couldn’t hear it, and that’s a shame.

Excuse me, I need to call and thank my editor. Don’t let him read this un-edited post.