Crazy times. Surreal. Surreal, yet disgusting too, a word I’ve come to despise this political season we’ve got up to the boots.
But what to do as an editor who’s been reading throughout this crazy time, about to write his editorial? Do I veer away from the process, that tried and true experience of every editor reading for an issue, the sleepless nights, those private connections between the writer and her reader, time standing still, a respite from my own daily stresses, my worries, my own life, when I find myself caught up in someone else’s ability to focus my perspective, as reader, to one beautiful pin-point.
Or do I weigh in on the times we live in, leap-frog over these works to offer up some sort of political commentary? Truth be told, nothing else matters in our time together. The writer and me. My anxieties, those worries, the dread, gone for those precious minutes I’m lost in your work, your world, your thoughtfulness, that selflessness, your story, someone else’s you sought fit to tell. That gift of empathy, understanding, love, however the story ends, it becomes my world as I read. As we read. Beautiful people telling our stories beautifully.
A little late, this issue, but we know you’ll agree it’s well worth the wait.
Aug. 2, 2016