This is my power, my will, my talent. I know I can write and have it published. I thought the editor would help me sort out the facts from my perceived reality. So far he’s just agreeing with my assumptions. I hired him to edit, not empathize.
The story is true but like all stories written in first person it’s my perception. I am the heroine and a villain. I’ve made mistakes, but the facts are there before him, why can’t he separate them and his feelings?
I never thought this endeavor would end up by him falling in love. The book was supposed to be a cleansing. Now it seems I’m back again, in that dreaded place of need. I never wanted to feel that vulnerability again. I have decided. I’ll find a new editor, one that is impartial. I can do it. I will get published and I will succeed.