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	<title>Narrative Actualization &#187; editing</title>
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		<title>Asking For Help</title>
		<link>http://www.narrativeactualization.com/2009/12/01/asking-for-help/</link>
		<comments>http://www.narrativeactualization.com/2009/12/01/asking-for-help/#comments</comments>
		<pubDate>Tue, 01 Dec 2009 19:23:40 +0000</pubDate>
		<dc:creator>melissalion</dc:creator>
				<category><![CDATA[Narratives Actualized]]></category>
		<category><![CDATA[Writing Magic]]></category>
		<category><![CDATA[asking for help]]></category>
		<category><![CDATA[editing]]></category>
		<category><![CDATA[postpartum depression]]></category>

		<guid isPermaLink="false">http://www.narrativeactualization.com/?p=215</guid>
		<description><![CDATA[<p>I keep harping on editing, don&#8217;t I? Here&#8217;s another post about the value of another set of eyes on your ]]></description>
			<content:encoded><![CDATA[<p>I keep harping on editing, don&#8217;t I? Here&#8217;s another post about the value of another set of eyes on your work. </p>
<p>Another set of eyes is another chance for help. </p>
<p>I suffered from a tremendous bout of postpartum depression when my son was born. I was living in San Francisco in a beautiful apartment building and every single one of my windows looked out at the Pacific Ocean. It was wonderful, peaceful, quiet.</p>
<p>And yet, when I became a mother, I couldn&#8217;t engage with the world. I couldn&#8217;t engage with my son. It was like I was living under glass. </p>
<p>My downstairs neighbor who was a friendly neighbor-sort, but not a friend, saw me in the lobby and said, &#8220;If you ever need a break, we&#8217;ll help out. Even if you just need ten minutes, bring him down and we&#8217;ll watch him for as long as you want.&#8221; </p>
<p>He and his wife had no children. They barely knew me. But he had a sense that I needed help. </p>
<p>I never once took him up on that offer. It never even crossed my mind as I stared out those windows at the Pacific feeling absolutely nothing but indifference. I never even had a sitter for the first two years of my son&#8217;s life. I couldn&#8217;t accept that help. </p>
<p>Not accepting help didn&#8217;t help the people who offered. It didn&#8217;t help me. It was just silliness on my part. Oddly, as soon as I started asking for help, the depression lifted.</p>
<p>Asking someone to read your story and offer feedback is an opportunity for help with your writing, and help changing your story. </p>
<p>I still feel weird when people watch my son for me. I get this little ache in my stomach, but I realize too that people want to help. They wouldn&#8217;t offer if they didn&#8217;t actually want to help. So I take them up on their offers and I deal with the ache. </p>
<p>Help is here. Another set of eyes is willing to take a look, be creative, kind and challenging all at once. Take advantage! </p>
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		<title>Dealing With the Doubts</title>
		<link>http://www.narrativeactualization.com/2009/11/23/dealing-with-the-doubts/</link>
		<comments>http://www.narrativeactualization.com/2009/11/23/dealing-with-the-doubts/#comments</comments>
		<pubDate>Mon, 23 Nov 2009 15:43:18 +0000</pubDate>
		<dc:creator>melissalion</dc:creator>
				<category><![CDATA[Writing Magic]]></category>
		<category><![CDATA[editing]]></category>
		<category><![CDATA[Writing]]></category>
		<category><![CDATA[writing process]]></category>

		<guid isPermaLink="false">http://www.narrativeactualization.com/?p=201</guid>
		<description><![CDATA[<p>The emotional process of writing sounds a little something like this: </p>
<p>Ohhhh this is a good idea.</p>
<p>A really, really good ]]></description>
			<content:encoded><![CDATA[<p>The emotional process of writing sounds a little something like this: </p>
<p>Ohhhh this is a good idea.</p>
<p>A really, really good idea.</p>
<p>The thoughts are flowing!</p>
<p>The words are flowing!</p>
<p>OH MY GOD, I AM BRILLIANT!!!</p>
<p>&#8230;.</p>
<p>huh.</p>
<p>&#8230;.</p>
<p>I am nothing. </p>
<p>This is horrible. </p>
<p>I hate this. </p>
<p>WHY DIDN&#8217;T I BECOME A DOCTOR?!?!</p>
<p>I would like to tell you that there&#8217;s some way to silent the latter part of that inner dialog, but I&#8217;ve not found it. I try and tell myself that the former is what gets me through. Those feelings of sheer brilliance and creativity. But the truth is, what gets me through is knowing that there are writers in this world, and editors. </p>
<p>I am a writer, mostly, but after years of teaching writing to college freshman I&#8217;ve become a decent editor. Of other people&#8217;s work. Certainly not my own. My writing, without the talented eyes of another person is choppy and awkward. I often miss the main point. I stray from what I mean. Editors keep me focused. They make it better. </p>
<p>Knowing someone else will look at my work helps quiet those doubts. I can tell myself that I might be a horrible no-talent hack, but there&#8217;s someone out there who has a little perspective, is far less emotionally involved and can simply cut what needs to be cut. </p>
<p>That person is my writing safety-net. </p>
<p>We hear all the time that writing is a solitary activity. But it can&#8217;t be. We need other eyes on our work. It eases the angst and creates writing that rich, full and typo-free. We hope. </p>
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