When I think about whether I could be one of these super-helping people, I don't think I could. Multiple factors would affect my ability to do what they do, and I don't think I'm that courageous, but I could "cast a stone across the waters to create many ripples."  

Despite many edits, I just didn't know how to write yet, so didn't avoid common pitfalls that befall first-time writers: wordiness, "telling" not "showing", character head hopping, misuse of dialogue tags, misplaced modifiers, forgetting the timeline (or bouncing around in time), and the dreaded passive voice. They let me know what I needed to do to get my book back on track. I am truly indebted to them for their time and expertise.

Funny how I look at time now and feel urgency as if I've wasted most of my life doing, rushing, accomplishing. Funny how learning, being, and living don't feel like wasted time. Is time a concept that stretches and shrinks depending on how we think of it?

Once upon a time, there was a young girl who dreamed of playing her flute so beautifully that those who listened to her would experience an emotional connection with the rising and falling melodies she played.