Recently the universe seems to be trying to teach me a lesson. Experiences are consistently building upon one another in a way that has my recent existential career crisis on hold: The universe is making me a better writer. 

Throughout my education in the School of Journalism and Communication, I have been taught what I believe to be the proper roles of a writer and an editor and what the relationship between the two should look like. However, theory is not the same thing as practice. 

As an Associate Editor of Ethos Magazine, I had an experience last term with a young writer who would tell me when to send her an edited draft, rather than ask when to expect it, for example. Overstepping one's bounds as a writer, I might say. I talked it over with Ross West, Managing Editor of Oregon Quarterly, where I intern. 

He held up a yellow pencil the size of my arm and handed it to me. After I looked back and forth between the pencil and Ross for what seemed like forever, he said a phrase I will never forget: "The editor has the big pencil." 

The writer and I had a conversation during which I passed along Ross' wisdom. I established the editorial hierarchy within our writer-editor relationship. She explained that she had not meant to be unprofessional or disrespectful at all, and it became a learning experience for the both of us. The article turned out to be amazing, and my editorial skills improved immensely. 

This term, I am writing the PROFile (haha, profile of a professor. get it?) that appears in each issue about a faculty member who is doing really cool, innovative things in class and on campus. Ross and I were going over the latest PROFile draft this morning, and in listening to his critique, I found myself sitting once more in the writer's chair. And the editor had the big pencil.