“You’ve made it bleed,” he said.
I shrugged. “That happens, sometimes.”
“Sure, but that much? Seems a bit excessive.”
“Well, what did you want me to do?” I asked. “It’s part of the job.”
He just crossed his arms and glared at me.
After withstanding his withering glare for several long minutes, I sighed. “Fine. Hand it over.”
He passed it back.
I double checked my work, from start to finish. It took the better part of an hour, but it was always best to take one’s time in situations like this.
“Well?”
I shook my head. “I stand by my work.”
“Seriously?”
“Look, if you don’t like it, feel free to do what you want. It’s no skin off my nose.”
“It’s butchery, plain and simple,” he griped.
I shrugged, nonplussed. “It’s a work of art. Did you even read it?”
He stood, grabbed everything up, and walked to the table in the far corner of the room. Turning his back toward me, he sat and perused everything in silence. I ignored him, and worked on my next project.
Forty-five minutes later, I heard a soft sigh. “You were right,” he admitted, tossing the manuscript on the table. “Your version is better. I’m sorry.”
I smiled, pleased with myself.
“I bow to your editorial prowess,” he added with a grin, kissing me soundly.
Being a good wife, I kissed him back.
The blood rites could wait.
I shrugged. “That happens, sometimes.”
“Sure, but that much? Seems a bit excessive.”
“Well, what did you want me to do?” I asked. “It’s part of the job.”
He just crossed his arms and glared at me.
After withstanding his withering glare for several long minutes, I sighed. “Fine. Hand it over.”
He passed it back.
I double checked my work, from start to finish. It took the better part of an hour, but it was always best to take one’s time in situations like this.
“Well?”
I shook my head. “I stand by my work.”
“Seriously?”
“Look, if you don’t like it, feel free to do what you want. It’s no skin off my nose.”
“It’s butchery, plain and simple,” he griped.
I shrugged, nonplussed. “It’s a work of art. Did you even read it?”
He stood, grabbed everything up, and walked to the table in the far corner of the room. Turning his back toward me, he sat and perused everything in silence. I ignored him, and worked on my next project.
Forty-five minutes later, I heard a soft sigh. “You were right,” he admitted, tossing the manuscript on the table. “Your version is better. I’m sorry.”
I smiled, pleased with myself.
“I bow to your editorial prowess,” he added with a grin, kissing me soundly.
Being a good wife, I kissed him back.
The blood rites could wait.
no subject
Date: 2025-09-21 08:42 pm (UTC)Hahaha.
You know what your entry reminds me of? One of those old TV shows like All In The Family where the husband does or says something that's clearly wrong, spends most of the rest of the episode trying to deny it, but eventually has to fess up to the truth. (grin)
Dan
no subject
Date: 2025-09-22 03:10 am (UTC)no subject
Date: 2025-09-22 02:19 am (UTC)Which is what a firm edit can feel like, even when you do it to yourself. Or to quote a fellow fanfic writer, "Not my deathless prose!" Oh, yes.
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Date: 2025-09-22 03:15 am (UTC)I had told him that overall, he had pretty clean copy (true, but there were still bits that needed fixing). He replied that “I took a look at chapter one and you still made it bleed, so that’ll keep me humble for a minute :)”
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