I looked at a lot of editing websites for ideas.

Fancy. Simple. Experienced editor. Newbie. Fiction. Academic nonfiction.

When I was creating this site, I must have perused dozens of websites representing my colleagues in the editorial community.

All have one thing in common: at least one aerial photograph of a cup of coffee or tea, half full, sitting next to a laptop on a stylish and uncluttered desk. Maybe there’s a succulent there that no one ever forgot to water for a couple of weeks: no, not once. Often the desk is made of weathered gray barn wood, or some chic and improbable material like slate or soapstone—you know, the ones from IKEA’s new Imprakticül line. 

Look, I like coffee as much as—no, more than—the next comma herder. As I type this, a chipped red mug sits on an old Kmart table with burn marks on one end from what’s known in my house as “that party when the tablecloth caught fire.” I’m sure the combo would have made a lovely aerial photo. I’m sure the image would have added just the whiff of industriousness and caffeine-scented relatability that this editing business needs. Or is that the smell of scorch marks wafting from my theoretical scratch-n-sniff website photo?

But theoretical it remains; I cannot do what everyone else does. I’m the kind of person who avoids trends. So at my own peril—because the aerial cup n’ laptop shot is probably a secret handshake in the editing community—I choose perching songbirds to decorate my site. What do birds have that convey “choose me for your editing needs for I am Serious and also I hydrate with hot liquids”?

Nothing. I just have a lot of bird photos on my camera. 

Eastern bluebird in White Clay Creek, DE. June 2020, HL Sianni