It's a humbling experience to be confronted with one's own failings, and I am certainly no exception. As I near the end of my first course in the Certificate in Editing program, I decided to take a brief moment to reflect on what I've learned so far. I've seen a sampling of editorial roles, learned a few tricks with Word, discovered a world of communication via editorial marks, and been slapped in the face with how little I actually know about grammar.
Before this class, I wore a tarnished crown belonging to a grammar queen. I was the one everyone went to in order to correct spelling and grammar mistakes in emails, pamphlets, letters, or papers. I spent days explaining essay format to my preteen son, and hours arguing with my ten-year-old daughter over the proper spelling and pronunciation of "toxicity". I was acknowledged by friends and family as the one who knew the most about writing. Now, however, I've learned that even a so-called "master" can fail miserably.
I am no grammar queen.
I am a wordsmith. I help craft, mold, and shape language into works that are both usable and beautiful. I can show you how to forge your own precious literary sword. When it comes down to explaining the most basic aspects of it, however, it's not so easy. By the time we graduate from high school, we all know what nouns, verbs, adjectives and adverbs are. We know how to construct sentences that contain subjects, verbs and objects. When it comes to explaining it, however, most people draw a blank. Not because we're dumb, but because we outgrew those steps so long ago it takes conscious thought to go back that far.
Like a chef that has been making the same dish the same way with the same ingredients for decades. That chef no longer needs to precisely measure exactly how much of any particular ingredient he or she needs. Everything is done without thought, and made to look like anyone can do it. If you ask that chef how much of any particular ingredient he or she needs, however, you'll get a blank stare. Again, not because the question is dumb or because either party lacks intelligence. No, you'll get the stare because the chef will need to stop and think about how much of what goes when and where. What is a completely subconscious act for this chef is something the newbie will have to learn. Sometimes slowly, sometimes painfully.
I guess it all comes down to perspective.
I can temper the raw materials I'm given into something functional, but if someone were to ask me how I wouldn't be able to explain. Then again, one doesn't need to understand a sunset to appreciate its majesty. As long as I continue to help others grow, the exact formula of literary fertilizer doesn't necessarily need to be analyzed. People are as different as the stars, and there's no saying for sure that what works for one author will work for another. I may not know as much as I thought I did, but the first step in learning is acknowledging how much we still have to learn. I'm confident I will finish this course a more accomplished reader, writer, and editor, even if I doubt I'll be able to explain how.
Sometimes one just has to trust that the chef know the dish, or in this case, that the wordsmith knows her craft.