1)  A prominent item on the news today informed me that a man was shot and killed in the parking lot of the condominium complex where I used to live.  He slashed his wrists and then called 9-1-1 to report “a bloody man with a knife” in the parking lot.  He then went outside with the knife, which he refused to drop when the police arrived, and was shot by the police.  Or at least, this is the official story.  It was very strange to see that familiar scenery in news photos.

2) I do get a lot of laughable material from the POD publisher, but my current project, while it needs a lot of work, isn’t laughable at all.  If I’d known what it was, I might have passed it on to a different editor, but — having started it, I’ll finish it.  It’s the memoir of a woman, now in her middle thirties, who has had a life of unremitting tragedy and degradation.  Events in her life include being sodomized by a family friend at the age of six, being forced by her mother to sleep in the hall closet for six months when she was seven, being sexually abused by her mother’s boyfriend for two years before she turned ten, having her first pregnancy and dropping out of school at the age of thirteen, having four children total due to ignorance and an inability to say “no” to anyone who seemed the least bit affectionate, and losing all of her children to street gangs and drugs.  The purpose of this memoir, as she says in the preface, is to allow people to learn from her mistakes; despite everything that has happened to her, she is quite aware of the choices she made.  She is a very intelligent woman and an effective storyteller, but her lack of formal education means that each sentence has several errors that require correction.

I am finding this material so painful to work on that I finally skipped to the end and started working backwards, as the events are less coherent (and therefore less disturbing)  that way.  The writing needs so much work that there’s no way to just skim over it, as I’ve done with some of the other books I’ve edited.  After every page, I am tempted to ask my manager to reassign the project.  Then I ask myself what kind of coward I am, exactly … if this poor woman could live this life, surely I can edit for her.  And I care about it being done correctly.  Making this woman look as good as she possibly can is the least I can do for her.  It’s hard, though.  I don’t want to see this.  I want to run away from her life … but not as much as she wants to, I’m sure.