Publishing, Writing, Scribe

I’m Finding More and More Gold and I Don’t Know What To Do

The thoughts of an editor in wonder

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The storm should be here soon. The sky is turning elephant-skin color and the wind is picking up. Mother Nature will soon howl her name and the temperatures will be more livable again. I’ll be there to listen.

I feel terribly powerless. I don’t mean my powerlessness in the face of Mother Nature’s violent outbursts. There’s not much I can do about that. I want to talk about my powerlessness in the face of writings made of gold flakes that has surrounded me for so many years here on Medium.

For ten years, I have devoted almost all of my energy to making sure that great writing and great writers are always a little more in the spotlight. I don’t throw flowers at myself. The flowers are the writers who trust me and allow me to publish their stories and poems in Scribe, the publication that many, including myself, consider to be a charming stone house in the heart of a lush forest. My gratitude to these authors is carved in stone for all eternity.

Today, nothing makes me happier than reading and publishing texts in this publication. But I’d like to do more than just be an editor who collects great writing on a website. I’d like to do more than…