Original title of this post:

Lots of cranky edits from my editors to attend to this morning. 

Have I used the word "cranky" enough times in this post already? Cranky cranky cranky. There. Good morning, Open Salon! [looks up from typing, waves to you]

The article service that I work for has many strict and rigorous guidelines for research, grammar, voice, and content. The rigor is refreshing. It's a pleasure to serve with the forces of light that fight against informational entropy on the internet. The service forbids Wikipedia as a research source. Same with Instructables, WiseGeek, Yahoo Answers, and About. Same with hundreds of other sites serving up Anonymously Regurgitated Information Slurry. I call it the Reconstituted Internet. You heard it here first, folks!

Some of the editors shuffle your articles right on through, and other editors hand you back a page full of cranky edits. I love the cranky editors because they make a better writer out of me, beginning with the sheer amount of attention I pay at every step of writing now.

Also, being a writer is all about revising at the scowling behest of cranky editors. Every time I chafe at their abrasive comments, there comes a pause and a smile. "Complaining about my editor ... that means I've arrived!"

But writing blogs is also wonderful (no editors!). At home, the only writing edits I get are from Jason, who offers occasional structural feedback. Like this week, for instance, "you shouldn't mix three metaphors in one sentence."

"Why not! They're not mixed, they're nested. Totally intelligible under the order of operations!"

For some reason, this argument garnered no traction. Thus, I tamed the sentence that compared music with computers, childhood, and racing a BMW through the suburb streets. Now it's just a comparison with computers. The post (about Bobby McFerrin) is much better for it. My lovely boyfriend is truly the sober yin to my raging yang.