The Worth of an Editor

I recently had to fire an editor with whom I had contracted to edit my upcoming novel, The House.

All started out fine, signing the editor’s contract and paying their requested fee. Yet three weeks into the process I was receiving long written assemblages of what amounted to–upon clarification from the editor–the editor’s thoughts as they read the mss. They had returned none of my mss with notations in the tools section indicating what awkward phrases needed to be re-worked, words that had been misspelled or questions as to who was speaking, and when. This is not to say that my mss was free of those mistakes, rather the editor was doing the preliminary task of what they described as critiquing the work. What baffled me even more was when I asked the purpose of these long treatises, the editor declared, “Oh these are my thoughts as I read. I really love your work.”

 
On a harsher note, when the editor informed me that according to some of their reviewers one in particular had read the opening pages of the story–about a woman who in the middle of divorcing her husband learns he his dying–that the pages read like a half hour sitcom, the prose riddled with cliches and nothing interesting–I knew there was something wrong.

When I chastised the editor for breaking the number one rule of the contract they had devised–promising to not allow anyone to read the mss without my express permission, the editor asked me whether I had had the worked critiqued. I said, “No. I have my MFA in Creative Writing. Prior to that I participated in a 3 concurrent writing groups taught by one teacher under whom I studied for three years.”

The editor responded with, “Was your work critiqued while earning your MFA?”

At that I knew I needed a new editor, at best get rid of th is one.

That decision was cemented with the editor’s comment that ,”While all readers won’t like everything they read the purpose of the editor’s critique was to determine what readers might not like so as to work on eliminating those elements.”

Clearly I should have done my homework on this editor. I should have interviewed the editor prior to engaging their services. My usual editors were unavailable. Their auto-responses to my e-mails requesting their services said they were out of town and did not state when they would return. In a panic I saw this editor’s advertisement. On speaking with them, they sounded reasonable, etc.

I’m certain I’m not the only writer whose undergone this slight ordeal. I use the word slight, because it wasn’t that difficult to cut the tie, newly formed as it was.

Doing the same five to seven years ago would have proven quite difficult and traumatic. During that time I needed people to like my work. Prior to undergoing my trial by fire experience of studying under a local writing teacher who taught me much, wrote the kindest and strongest letter of recommendation to accompany my application for entering my MFA program, and was kind enough to write a blurb for my first publication with a traditional publisher I was unsure of myself as both a writer and a literary artist. The two may sound the same, but for me they are different.

A writer is one who writes–stories, novels, poem, essays, etc. A literary artist has a certain style with the words she or he weaves together. That style marks her or him as clear and distinct from her or his other colleagues–not that she or his better or worse. Simply put an author’s style reflects her or his voice and the lens through which she or he will approach a subject or the dilemma facing her or his protagonist.

Many authors have written a story, novel or essay about the death of a spouse or a person who goes off to war. Yet the masters have a distinct style and way with which they handled their subjects–an approach that is so clear and delineated that the title needs no by-line listing the author’s name. Their style reflects that certain author’s ownership of the words and the pictures those words conjure for the reader. We know their voice. Like a painting by Picasso the lines and cadences created in the words these authors knit bear the mark of their literary artistry.

An editor’s job–and those who are good at their ministry to an author’s words, elucidate within a few pages the presence or lack or style. Where style exists the best editors work to identify when and where the writer has departed, for lack of a better term, from the style she or he has established at the outset of that work, and notes this to the author. The best authors correct this. They stitch up the hole their breaking away has created so as to maintain the dreamworld their style along with correct grammar and spelling have created for the reader. Reading at its best is entertainment–an escape–wherein the author has subtly interwoven a bit of learning. Scenery, dialogue, plot, character, theme all work towards the ends of establishing and holding together the hologram of the story. Style is the manner of thread that holds together these elements in a way distinctive to a particular writer. Breaking that thread rents a hole in the work through which we lose the reader.

A most basic part of this thread/style is honoring grammar, spelling and smooth phrasing. The best editors know this. LIke th best writers they adhere to the rules of Stunk & White’s trusty Element’s of Style.

After attending to these matters, what remains sits in the realm of the subjective–which encompasses what we or another person likes.

Nowhere in The Elements of Style do Strunk or White donate time to what one likes. They offer a wealth of information on honoring the rules of grammar and, how to construct phrases and sentences that are easily understood by the reader. And let us not forget spelling.

At a time when more books are being published than ever–and many of them with an astounding number of simply mistakes–those that fall squarely into the realm of poor grammar, erroneous spelling and awkward, if not outright incorrect, phrasing, one wonders why this editor and others aren’t more focused on attending to the basics when editing a piece of writing. And let me say, not all editors are like this particularly one I encountered. As I said, I resorted to using this editor because the ones I usually use were temporarily unavailable and I had a deadline to meet.

Fortunately my regular editors returned and e-mailed just as I made the decision to cut the strings with the one with whom I had contracted. My work with my writing teacher, those writing teachers who advised and supervised my work while earning my MFA and the editor with whom I was honored to work at he publishing house that brought my MFA thesis to print, gave me a tremendous amount of self-confidence and trust in myself and my process as a writer. The criticism they gave me felt like a pat on the back. Never was I demeaned nor my work disrespected. Every change they suggested was towards the goal of making my writing sing with brilliance.

The editors with whom I have worked in the past have taught me much, not unlike the writing teacher under whom I studied prior to entering my MFA program. Were it not for my experiences with them and the one who edited my book that was traditionally published I would have lacked the yardstick by which I measured this most recent editor and found them coming up severely short.

Not all editors are bad. And every work that authors write needs revision and editing–first by the writer her or himself–and then by a professional editor. As to whom that editor will be depends on a few factors–the most important of which rests with what person can bring a clear eye to the writer’s style–where in the work the style stands its strongest–and where the writer falls away from the pinnacle/personal best she or he has set for himself. A writer best identifies a good editor by how much the editor’s suggestions energize you, the writer to make the necessary changes needed to improve the work. Their suggestions will often touch upon places in the work bringing clarity to where you the writer have held doubts. More than anything good editors make comments and remarks about the work that feel like and are suggestions–not demands.

For those editors whose approach is questionable and their intentions even more suspect, I ask one thing–What is your purpose in working with a piece of writing that has been authored by another? Do you approach the work to identify the writer’s brilliance and seek to eliminate all the place–words, phrases, sentences and paragraphs that dim the sparkle in their writing?

Or are you there simply out of fear and frustration of not having written your own story with the ulterior motive of transforming the story or novel of the writer for whom you work into yours?