Speaking of editing, I've been published - under my new name which won't even be official until November 18. My article, written for consp!re magazine (http://www.conspiremagazine.com/), is no longer recognizable to me as my words after all the editing (just a part of the process, and yes, I did participate in this process). Thankfully, I do still recognize the story as my own.
What is this need to speak (or write) and be heard (or read)? A desire to connect? To be understood? I'm not sure, but I do feel more articulate when I write...and the keyboard provides the fluidity of thought that pen to paper lacks. I actually prefer the pen to paper, though, the rawness and permanence, the sensory aspect, the stark contrast of the black ink on white.
I used fountain pens for a long time, and the messiness of the time when my pen (pluma it is called in Spanish - same word for feather) finally "gave up the ghost" so impressed me that I took a picture and entitled it "death of a pen". A fair amount of pain had flowed from my heart to my head, working itself through the muscles in my hand and arm, and out the tip of my pen leaving it's marks on page after page - some of which have never been read again, but are kept closely guarded and pressed together upon my shelves. And then the pen bled out - it was like the the breaking of water finally giving birth to new life. I tend to attach symbolic meaning to events like this - and it did happen to be the same month (june 2009) I signed divorce papers after three years of waiting, hoping, praying, fasting, and struggling for the reconciliation and restoration of my marriage. It died anyway. But death brings new life - that's what our faith is all about. 
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