In case you’ve ever wondered
What goes on in an editor’s brain,
Her desire to conquer syntax
Can cause an awful strain.

A typo, a misspelling,
A hyphen out of place,
Will etch a deep, deep crease
Upon an editor’s face.

She raises her red pen,
Or taps the delete key;
To her eyes, poor grammar
Seems like profanity.

Telling instead of showing,
A cliché here or there,
And a huge chunk of backstory
Makes an editor pull her hair.

Her mind rebuilds a sentence
Which once ran awkwardly,
For the power of prose is lost
In a segment so wordy.

She yearns to help the author,
To make his message glisten,
In hopes that readers will soon
With rapt attention listen.

As she pauses in her work,
She bows her head in faith,
Praying to the Lord above
For wisdom and strength.

Although her hand is gentle,
And her encouragement heard,
The author sometimes rejects
Her suggestions as absurd.

Change often hurts and stabs;
It’s tempting to resist pain,
But a person stuck in old ways
Won’t discover what is to gain.

For stories are like people,
With God as editor divine;
His Word pierces hearts
So that the light of Christ may shine.

Whether writer or editor,
The calling is the same:
To lead others to the Lord,
And glorify His name.