The value of a good editor is under-rated. From the time we are children, �give me some feedback� usually equates to �tell me it�s good.� Once we recognize that some of what we write is banal, or worse, barbaric, the more educated among us change our tunes. We come to believe that it is our obligation to find an editor to work with us�and to give them the occasional good laugh in private before we say something outrageous in public.

Around here, the editor we usually find�good or bad--is a relative. While no one wants to make fun of someone else�s writing (unless we�re talking about siblings who occasionally lose sight of the task at hand when given an opportunity for sisterly mischief or children who just can�t resist the opportunity to play �gotcha� with Mom or Dad), drafts yield some lines are just too good to pass up and become part of family lore.

Years ago, for example, Kat wrote a paper about LaSalle, the explorer. Even back in fifth grade, Kat wrote well. But writing well didn�t save her from explaining that �LaSalle returned to America but the Mississippi was not to be found.� I looked up and asked her, �Ever?� Luckily, she began to laugh. Now whenever someone suggests that no editor is needed, one of us may simply say, �And the Mississippi was not to be found.�

Last night, it was Day-Hay�s turn to contribute to family folklore and culture. She, however, was not laid low by passive voice. Instead, she ran into the trap of stating the obvious. She wrote a report called �Grasslands, Sea of Grass.� The draft was a little rough although the final report was well done. I was clipping right along through the usual assortment of missing commas and the rare sentence fragment when I hit the topic sentence that was undeniably true. �Amazing facts are always interesting.�

As Day-Hay points out, it could have been worse. She could have written, �Amazing facts are always amazing� but that sentence would have had only a smidgen less content that the one she wrote. After only a few hours it became clear that no one around here will ever again say, �You�re stating the obvious.� No, it will come out as �amazing facts are always interesting.� Indeed they are.

My individual sentences haven�t made it into family lore in quite the same way but my bad writing habits have. I am the queen of the inadvertent pun. In my first drafts, people in cemeteries will swear not to tell a living soul or someone somewhere will plaster the news of a damaged wall all over the papers. No one around here will say, �I don�t think you meant to say this.� Instead, they�ll tell each other, �You�re writing like Mom.� On occasion, I�ll even hear that I�m �writing like Mom.� Never mind that I am Mom.

Somehow, Mr. Philately so far has managed to avoid becoming a family joke (at least if we are talking about writing. Kat can go on at length about his �fogey glasses.�) Except for that bad Iowan habit of omitting the �to� in phrases such as �I�m going to mow the lawn,� he rarely says or writes anything that is barbaric or outlandish in form. (I refuse to comment on general content on the grounds that it may tend to incriminate me. After all, I�ll probably ask him to edit this piece.) I�m not sure if he escapes because his writing technique is so good or because he is the best editor in the house and we�re afraid to antagonize him. I do know that, around here, he�s unlikely to escape forever.

Good editing is an art. Good editing is hard work. Supplying the content to be edited is, at least around here, a chance for family immortality. If you momentarily write badly, you too can go down in history. Amazing, but true�and I�m sure you�re interested because, after all, amazing facts like that are always interesting.

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