The Issue of Trust

I'm not a particularly trusting sort.

Many of us have deep-seated issues in this department. Some are far worse. Some are far better. And some are too trusting.

But because I'm not a particularly trusting sort, it always strikes me as particularly noble and grand when someone places their trust in me. I take that responsibility seriously. And it grieves me when I even inadvertently betray it.

When an artist allows me to use their work, it energizes me anew for the task. They've trusted me with not only upholding the terms of the agreement (that's a given), but with ensuring that my writing won't be an embarrasment to their art. This is thankfully not something that paralyzes me with anxiety, but rather it strengthens my desire to not let them down, which gives me a renewed sense of purpose. The work must be the best I can make it. That trust makes it worth it every time I get off the couch and onto the computer.

Trust is a fine thing. To live cynically, even in a cold, hard world, is no way to live. But with trust comes the responsibility of the one trusted to reward it with a good return. To that end, I return to editing my third draft.