The Editing Session. A short story by the Old Yorkshireman in New York

THE EDITING SESSION
A Conversation overheard.

Editor, “So when you get to chapter three, don’t you think there should be signs that a resolution between them is possible.”

Author makes a note.

Editor, “Her pain, her pain, she just can’t carry on like that, or she’ll burst and I think that the reader will be dying to see that she’s not so damn helpless, I mean she’s pathetic. Do you see what I mean here?”

Author, “Hmmmm, well”.

Editor, “Now, I liked this, it felt right that David didn’t get away with it, but there’s no angst, he’s still the complete bastard he revealed himself to be half-way through chapter three. So you see the reader is left wondering if he felt anything at all as he fell under the truck. Perhaps just a glimmer of self realization?”

Author, “No I don’t agree there; show, don’t tell surely Angela.”

Editor, “I mean, that bastard Martin….”

Author, “There’s no-one called Martin in my story Angela.”

Editor, “When I think what must have been going on in his twisted mind. Why, no conscience, not a tear. I hope she and he burn in eternal hell- Margo that bitch.”

Author, “Who’s Margo?”

Editor, “I mean I couldn’t keep a thing like that, a gross wicked lie locked up like he did, safe in that slammer of a mind of his. Just like James.”

Author, “James?”

Editor, “Another Bastard, there’ll all bastards when it comes down to it aren’t they.
Promises! Oh he promised the world didn’t he, it was all going to be fine, wonderful,
marvelous, the wedding in the cathedral, the honeymoon, the yacht, the villa. All lies of course total lies. And now Megan- what a cute name for a bitch from hell, she’s prancing down the Amalfi Coast with him in that fake outfit. Just like him, fucking fucked up fake.”

Author, “Chapter four?”

Editor, “ Oh yes right Chapter four.”

Author, “I wasn’t too sure about introducing David here at this point just after Mary has had the sextuplets.”

Editor, "There’s a word to roll around SEX, I admit it, I couldn’t get enough, and just when, after the counseling I realized that I REALLY couldn’t get enough, I couldn’t get any!”

Author, “Or do you think that Mary should just get through the nervous breakdown on her own.”

Editor, “Breakdown, how I got through mine I don’t know,…”

Author, “Here use these tissues.”

Waiter. “Two more Martinis?”

Author dejected, “Why not?”

“Editor, “He’s cute. You know when it comes down to it, I blame it all on the Martinis……..”

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The Editing Session. A short story by the Old Yorkshireman in New York by 


Based on snippets of conversation heard two tables away….

Yorkshireman. Designer, writer, poet, artist, riddler, curator, urban walker, bathroom-cleaner, table-setter and napkin-folder. New York ’Life Cafe" East Village and Bushwick Brooklyn cafes co-owner. Father, grandfather, and serial husband. UK ex-pat. wine-lover and skilled re-cycler.

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Comments

  • msdebbie
    msdebbiealmost 5 years ago

    Oh wow, what an amazing conversation to overhear – you’ve shared it so very well.
    Dialogue does not always breathe with life for me, but this certainly has it!!!
    Congrats xoxo

  • Hi Debbie, Thanks so much, this was based on a conversation of which I only heard snippets
    but I got the gist that the editor was more mixed up than the writer! Just read a piece by you and by gum it woke me up. I shall have to start wearing ties again!

    – John Sunderland

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