|Hopefully, editors won't become as rare as the red pen.|
After discovering my love for journalism in middle school, I was devastated to learn that my high school paper would be off limits until I was a junior. Come junior year, I was amped to get my first by-line in newsprint. By the end of the semester, I had discovered the age-old love/hate relationship between writers and editors.
I learned two hard lessons in one issue, the second as demoralizing, if not as dramatic, as the first. (I cut out the first instance, it was way to long to combine both.) I was writing about the pumpkin patch in a near-by town. I wrote three drafts of that story, before it was approved. That wasn't the problem, though. Those editing lessons were much appreciated.
The work put into the story did make it the one I was most eager to see when the paper finally came out. Grabbing a few copies and rushing home, I tore through the pages to find it. And burst into tears. The version that went to press was the first draft. I was enraged. After all those