“Cheers!”
Five women in five different homes raise their drinks to the screen. Glasses of wine, cans of pop — the beverage of choice isn’t what matters. The camaraderie is.
Having time to unwind with good conversation and snacks after a long week was just what my heart and my head needed. I was grateful and happy to be one of the five smiling women who raised a glass to her computer camera that night.
Socializing during a global pandemic looks a bit different these days. That night’s offering was courtesy of Zoom, a platform many of us have cultivated a love/hate relationship with. I enjoy it because it has allowed me to connect with friends and colleagues who I might not have seen otherwise during this time; I dread it because I find myself exhausted after multiple video meetings in a row. There’s also the frustration of seeing the face of the person who I want to connect with freeze on screen or hearing their voice garble because of bad connections/system failures/Gremlins in the machine. (‘That wouldn’t happen if we were in the same room together’ I’ve grumpily thought more times than I care to admit.)
Still. The frustration of technology was worth it to connect with amazing women on a Friday night. Topics of conversation: family, politics, building a business … common threads in a safe space.
When I first joined my local twig (small branch) of Editors Canada, my goals were to meet people, build connections, and gain some valuable editing experience through volunteering. What I hadn’t counted on was meeting some truly remarkable people who would become friends.
(I’ve joked with one that I felt like a fangirl when I first met her because I’d admired her work and professional style long before we were in the same room together. Surprise! She’s a real person. And she didn’t think me a creeper for expressing my admiration like the — hopefully — delightfully nerdy nerd I am!)
If you’ve read my blog or follow me on social media, you know I’m a fairly new business owner. I’ve found working for myself has great advantages, but a major disadvantage is the isolation that comes from being the only person in my office. I’m used to working in bustling spaces where you can quickly walk to a co-worker’s desk or stick your head above a cubicle wall to ask for advice. The thing is, I’ve learned you don’t need to have colleagues physically next to you to be part of a community. Knowing there are people who are just a message or phone/video call away is huge, and it goes beyond professional development. Especially now.
Besides the editors I’ve had the pleasure of meeting in person, there are many more I’ve gotten to know through social media (here’s looking at you, #edibuddies). Collectively, these individuals are some of the most welcoming and engaged people I’ve ever met. There’s a common misconception that editors are sticks in the mud, wielders of red pens and destroyers of imagination. That’s not the case at all. The editing community is vibrant and curious, passionate and thought-provoking. It’s not just teaching me about grammar and technical editing conventions — I’m learning about trends, ideas, advocacy, and life.
I am fortunate to have family members and friends who lift me up, but being welcomed into this professional community has awakened a sense of confidence that was asleep for a long time.
The support and belonging I feel is palpable, even through a computer screen. It’s acceptance in a changing sea.
It really does take a village to raise an editor.