Sipping Coffee

Ξ September 13th, 2007 | → | ∇ Off the Cuff |

I sat sipping coffee as a manuscript was going through an evaluation process. I also half-listened to a conversation happening over my shoulder…about that editorial process — young women sissy-whispering about who that might be with that manuscript box loaded with postage and whose manuscript was being evaluated.

Pages were sifted and shifted by the editor, notes checked, references made, and an occasional comment jotted. With each new development, the surreptitious audience got a little louder…and louder…and louder…until, finally, the editor looked over at them, frowned, and asked them exactly what it was they found so stimulating that they felt it necessary to make themselves a nuisance.

I expected the brazen young ladies to slink down out of sight, or at least turn their heads and muffle it. To my surprise, they scooted their chairs nearer and started to ask questions, chattering on and on about how they were writing books and…well, you know, pouring their details out as if pitching an agent. They didn’t even pause long enough upon asking something to give space enough for an answer to happen in between their incessant, burbling chatter.

ADD I wondered? Too much sugar? (Both were drinking sweetened beverages.) Or was it just too much self-infatuation?

If you want answers, you’ve got to listen and, then, hear.

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Night by D. L. Keur

Spirit of the moon,
Rising at the death of solar light,
Furls the wings of eagles' flight
Until the images of night
Are but an echo.

June, 1990

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