Physical Editing

“You need a surgeon,” my doctor said. She handed the ultrasound report to me.

I didn’t need to look it at. For years I’d told doctors I had a hernia. After a cursory exam, I always heard, “You don’t have a hernia.” The denial part of me readily accepted it. I hate surgery, but still managed to rack up seven abdominal ones, anyway.

Yet, in reality, each of the procedures was a true blessing. The six Caesareans presented me with six, wonderful children. The adrenalectomy saved my life. My doctor reviewed my surgical history, smiled, and said, “And you wonder why you have a hernia.”

“I know why I have a hernia,” I said. “I still don’t like surgery.”

The hernia was large enough to cause problems. Skipping the surgery would be foolish and, eventually, dangerous. So, I redefined the terms. Surgery was just another word for physical editing. I make cuts and additions to my work to improve it. In this case, the cuts--another incision-- and additions—a large piece of mesh—would result in a new, improved me.

For me, as a writer, editing is a love/hate relationship. Sometimes refining a story, press release, or manuscript is pure joy. Other times it’s drudgery. Often, it’s plain, hard work to keep the facts, but tell the story in a different way. It challenges me; it stretches my mind, and I don’t always relish it. Yet, I am nearly always pleased with the end results. Why should this time be any different?

I take a deep breath and accept the surgeon’s business card from my doctor’s outstretched hand.