A prompt and a pearl: Week 10
A writing prompt and bit of writing advice/insight once a week in 2024
We often think about betrayal as something that’s done to us—a partner cheats on you; a friend reveals your secrets; your sister shows you she doesn’t have your back—but what about the ways we betray ourselves? I’m writing about the ways I betrayed myself in my search for love. It’s such a hard confrontation with who I was and the ways I didn’t love myself…
The Prompt:
Write about ways you’ve betrayed yourself: How have you betrayed yourself? Have you ignored your instincts to later discover that you were right to be suspicious? Have you ignored signs? Have you pretended not to know something you didn’t want to know because the reality, the truth could unravel you? Have you quieted your voice when your gut told you something was off? Have you gotten wrapped up in someone’s else’s turbulence, making their stuff your stuff, and not protecting yourself? Have you even gone so far as to push your own needs aside? Have you kept toxic relationships in your life for far too long? Do you or have you had a hard time setting and imposing boundaries?
Please don’t take this as an opportunity to self-flagellate on some Opus Dei shit. (Cue scene of the albino monk Silas in The Da Vinci Code lashing himself with a spiked whip.)
This isn’t about punishing yourself for your past missteps. Please approach this with curiosity not judgment. Who were you then that you were willing to lie to yourself and/or treat yourself with such callousness? Was/Is this part of a pattern? Where did you learn that this was acceptable? Where did you learn that you weren’t worthy of kindness and loyalty?
The Pearl
Stand up for yourself, even to editors. I’ve been publishing for a while now and I respect editors (am an editor myself) and their visions, but even they don’t always get it right.
I’m thinking specifically about an essay where I received some edits I didn’t agree with because the wording didn’t sound like me. I confess, I was nervous to say this. The editor is a famous writer whom I admire tremendously and has been a big proponent of my work. If you know anything about me and my writing journey, you know that voice is big for me. I worked hard to unlearn so much of what I’d learned from my elite education and the world, about my voice, who I am, where I come from, how I express myself on the page. This has become a huge source of pride for me. I know my voice. I worked hard to rediscover it. I won’t let anyone take that from me. And, yet, in this moment, I was stuck. How could I say this to this editor? How dare I when they were publishing my work? It took me two days, but I eventually talked myself into it. Why? Because my voice is far too important to me to stay quiet. I simply responded: I wouldn’t say this like this, and I offered another suggestion. The editor responded soon thereafter with an: “Ok” and they accepted my phrasing. It was that easy.
It doesn’t always work this way, of course. I once had to pull an essay because the editor wasn’t willing to compromise. Their stance was basically “Do what I say, don’t challenge me” and I couldn’t abide by that. I still can’t, and I’m not sorry. It wasn’t then nor is it now worth a by-line.
I’ve also been on the other side as an editor, where someone refused to take any of my edits and had a fit about it. I pulled their piece. Not because I wasn’t willing to compromise, but because the writer showed themselves as difficult to work with, and I didn’t have the time nor the space to coddle their egos.
Remember: that story, that poem, that piece is yours. Be flexible, but also know your boundaries and stand by them.
My rule when receiving edits is this: I give myself 24 hours to read and digest. I do not respond until I’ve had a night’s sleep, time to calm my ego and look at the edits with clearer eyes. I suggest you do the same.
***I didn’t get around to posting an additional Prompt & Pearl last week, and know I’m a week behind. I’ll get to it… ***