There are a few routes an English Major can take. One is pursue life as an Editor. Now, I do not understand all the nuances of life as an Editor, but I figure I would require a greater amount of training. For instance, I may have an understanding of Grammar (however underused), but articulating how that sentence errs or how that clause fails or why it is needed is lost to me. Fortunately, friends and classmates just go with it and then whisper-ask the teacher if L knows what she is talking about.
Another instance: This is a big one. Helping refine a work without taking it over and potentially compromising the voice. Sometime I worry about fostering a belligerence in the daughter when it comes to her writing and the questioning of conventions and boundaries. That I am a huge fan of the Modernists (British in particular) and of the Dadaist (at the beginning, not presently), is telling and rubbing off. And yet, when I am looking over N’s work and making suggestions, she is willing to argue on behalf of her decisions. She is frighteningly, and reassuringly, articulate. She has been a good teammate and co-Editor in working on this zine.
My dad has also been a great help to me. After opting to put a few of my own pieces in, I sent them to him for editing. ‘Twould have been really embarrassing for me if I hadn’t.
TalyaWren has been scraping away at my rusting skill set even as it has been providing me with an opportunity to grow. It hasn’t tempted me away from pursuing Library/Information Sciences, but it has been a great deal of fun–despite the occasional angst. And I do worry–a little.
While the zine may be a home-grown Art Project of modest proportion and amateur skill, I hope that no one could call it Quaint—anything but that. In order to avoid that terrible end there must needs be an Editor in the house. I’ll take two or three…