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Wednesday I read pages written by my critique group, red pen in hand. They’re great writers, so there wasn’t much to fix. Just a comma here and there, a funny little misspelling, a viewpoint that needed to be gently pointed back in the right direction.

Later, I found myself editing my closet–taking out summertime clothes, things that no longer fit, things that no longer please me. Fixing a dangly button. Ironing a blouse so it was smooth.

Then, my Wednesday piano students started to arrive. I realized I was editing again. Guiding a hand into the proper shape. Correcting a misplaced note. Making things more harmonious. Shaping a phrase.

I didn’t realize pretty much everything I do is editing.