Art and other what ifs

"Creativity is allowing yourself to make mistakes. Art is knowing which ones to keep."
Scott Adams, Cartoonist Dilbert


So by the experience of writing the editorial to support and advocate for the sparrow…I learned lessons of editing as the world teaches editing.

True…for some writings omitting words or editing that alters words and corrects words, the writing becomes distinct in content. Message contained in said space.

More true, when I searched my heart and listened to my readers, I discovered the power of words and sequence. It was here that readers gave me feedback that I had heart connected…with one book they could sense my voice there, and when not.

Therefore, some of the best editing takes away the voice of the author, the heart message, the writer’s intent…the purpose of the work…

I also know to be true, by writing Dear Daisy…often what is not written holds the greatest power…the space…that “what if” place…

Daisy taught me unconditional love through words, mostly through her heart expression, sharing time with me, and allowing me to grow in that “what if” place…

I had been the guest writer in a paper section. I was the author of Dear Daisy. By this I made my distinction.

As the parent of Dear Daisy I loved my child, perfect through my eyes just as it was created. No, there would be no changes, no second editions nor editing of words and I would support its full development and whisper the supportive words, “grow, grow” to become the gift it was designed to be. Holding Dear Daisy I felt closer to a truth God the creator already knew; a seed created perfect in it’s own image, compared only to its own purpose, and each seed grows as designed.

Perhaps any other author would have…

Still Art is created by artists; visions reflected, crafted not manufactured. Perhaps that is why Art is created in the first place and solves the mystery of how it survives time. Art is created through artists and visual art sometimes rests even on canvas flawed or despite imperfect strokes, still beauty is found there.

The written word in print less kind, one space for each letter or word. Still, words together the blending appears, and beauty in the perfect, no maybe also the slip can tell more. Through the eye of the beholder, certainly that would explain how I felt, senses and heart the moment I first held Dear Daisy.

Reading I discovered deeper meaning than even I was aware of during times when I wrote the words and stories. From first to final word Dear Daisy was a process unfolding.

Self-publishing would provide the canvass that I could display my works over time, as my words and I evolved. Rising Sparrow Press would provide the pathway to sow. The passion of this belief led me to continue creating and reaching and growing.

Perhaps another publisher would have…

First weeks…

Readers held Dear Daisy in their hands and I took pause when they revealed what page they were on, what story or mystery drew them to question. I waited for the children on that road to reveal their voices, their songs, and the echoes of their hearts. Reader reviews came and somehow, I, this child with “a communication problem” had connected. This truth was a mystery, in part even to me. No two readers of Dear Daisy talked with me about their experience reading this book the same.

As weeks turned to months…

As the author the numbers of readers that shared with me their first experience, then second, and some third or more readings of this same, Dear Daisy book humbled me. I was awed by this and mystified by this power of word Art.

It was this language of heart I most wanted to leave behind as my personal and creative legacy. Language songs playing on the hearts and minds of people, some who crossed my path, yet so many others I would never physically meet yet somehow through my words shared there could be the possibility of an opening being created to cross on some spiritual journey.This was the dream of my heart, mirroring the legacy my heart was drawn to create. Readers of Dear Daisy gave account after account that I was truly accomplishing step-by-step, word-by-word something mystical that they, too were drawn towards. I was humbled to be part of the legacy of ordinary folk facing and sorting ordinary daily living. I sensed connection to each life facing extraordinary challenges that anyone who has ever lived or ever will live face, surviving and growing and taking steps to move on.

So by this truth as shared with me the author, yes, I will claim artistic rights and privilege not as an excuse nor justification for flaws but rather, as proof that not all perfectly written is Art and not all imperfection should be stroked or edited away.


Writing time was pulling at my heart, publishing and distributing Dear Daisy needed time, and events happening in life could not be ignored. I couldn’t help once again feeling as if the next book was being told to me first hand to be recorded for some later printing while I struggled to interpret distractions and obstacles in my life and in the life of others where I served as witness.

In hindsight taking my time revealed more of my own mystery unfolding and what I learned gave me more than even I would have imagined. I learned yet another truth: Editing takes away the texture, true both in writing and in life.



“Generally, by the time you are Real, most of your hair has been loved off, and your eyes drop out and you get loose in the joints and very shabby. But these things don’t matter at all, because once you are Real you can’t be ugly, except to people who don’t understand.”
Margery Williams, from The Velveteen Rabbit

Editing

The paper arrived on time the morning the editorial was to appear.

My name and the picture of myself I recognized. The article as it appeared I did not. At least I didn’t recognize what was written as mine.

Sentences I had written were there, most of them, just none of them in the order that I had written them.

My first reaction? “That’s odd.”

I had no connection to what I had written. As time passed and I re-read, I connected less and less.

When I went into work that morning, many approached. Others contacted through email or phone.

These were their comments:
"Did you change your work to write an editorial?'
"The editorial was not your voice."
"I didn't recognize the writing as yours. Somebody else wrote it."
"Bland. I got nothing out of it. I know how you write. Always a strong and deliberate message."
"This wasn't your style. I couldn't hear your voice. Your voice always comes through when you write."

Now I understood my first reaction.

I then was left with the dilemma; do I tell readers approaching me the truth? It truly was not the work I had submitted.
I settled for saying it was the edited version of what had been submitted.

Each then questioned why the work of a "guest essayist" would have an editor. They believed those columns were written by people of the community and the opinions written as authored, not as edited.

I had no answer for their mental quandary.

As an author and publisher, I knew the power of changing key words such as nouns to direct attention to one, then another. Creates direction of blame and tension. Greater power comes with altering message by adjusting the order the reader is exposed to thoughts. I knew this and had been told by readers that I can be most effective with this to convey heart language people can connect with as they read and ponder what they have just read. Never has my work been described as bland.

This experience was my formal education on the power of editing.

My mission was for the children silenced on their road. The edited version…the children’s voices...lost.

I sent an email to the editor and senior editor of the paper stating what my readers had shared with me of their reactions. My final question?

What was altered of the message of the “Guest Essayist” and what outcome will this action have on the growth and development of our community or contribute to blocking the path to peaceful resolution and healing?