Or in my case, I sit corrected. I always say that I’m no writer, just a person who writes stuff down and there’s a difference. But now I know for sure that I’m not really a writer. A professional copywriter has as much as told me so. Last Wednesday, I received a thick parcel all the way from my homeland. It was an envelope with 280 pages in it, my manuscript. And all I can say is that there was more red ink on those pages than I ever dreamed possible.
Five days later, I am finally finished. I try not to hate anything in this life, but I can tell you that punctuation and me/I are not on good terms. Who knew that I didn’t have a clue about how to correctly write a sentence? The saddest part was that it took me almost as long to decipher the copyediting symbols as it did to make the suggested changes.
I have no idea who corrected my work, but I’m pretty sure that he or she must think I’m a total birdbrain. I had to be reminded that 1552 is the 16th century and not the 15th as I had written. That Bible should be capitalized, that commas exist for a reason. While on more than one occasion over the last few days I imagined slapping this unknown person for creating so much work for me, today all I can think is how grateful I am for this stranger’s wise guidance. Yes, he/she created 5 days of hell but really what was created was a much better blook.
At first, I thought I would be mortified to meet this person for fear of being thought a fool. I mean what kind of ninny goes to school for decades and then reaches my stage of life without knowing basic punctuation rules? But now, after realizing just how much this person has helped me, the only appropriate action would be to throw myself at the feet of the mystery red-penned devil and offer my soul in thanks. Period.