BOOKISH: Your Editor, Yourself

You know what editors look like. They are balding and hold cigars. They scream at staff, a deadline forever looming. Paunchy and scowling, they mercilessly redline copy, between pulls on a desk bottle.

And that’s the women. You should see the men. Just kidding. Men or women, editors are like the rest of us, only more so. But before we get too far into the weeds, let’s look at what editors do.

The most obvious, of course, is they edit. Whether newspapers, magazines, or books, editors take the writer’s manuscript and make sure the writing conforms to the standards of their publication. As writers, we want the editor to make as few changes as possible. We know how to write, right?

Wrong. Too many of us dash off copy without any thought to consistency, clarity, or logic. Writers think of themselves as special. We are talented. We are artists. But the first thing any of us should learn is that we are fallible. What appeals to us may not appeal to others. Only a rigorous appraisal of our work, and a careful consideration of audience, will yield work that appeals to the reading public. Hemingway said the writer must have an absolutely shock-proof manure detector. Only he didn’t use the word manure.

The editor has to deal with blind spots. In doing so I’ve noticed they are typically careful. Very careful. When they are running changes by the writer they use words like reconsider and recommend. And possibly. They treat the writer rather like an unexploded bomb, and for good reason. Artists are famously touchy.

My suggestion? Make it easy on the editor. Give him or her full control. They know what they are doing, or should, and when they don’t have to email changes back and forth, it makes their job infinitely easier. They’ll remember how easy you were to work with the next time you send a submission. Hint to writers everywhere: You want to be easy to work with.

This applies to newspapers and magazines. Fiction is another matter. For some reason editors can lose their perspective with fiction. Then you have to put your foot down. I suggest you put it down gently, but I’ve had my stuff weakened so substantially I couldn’t let it go out under my name. One editor changed my dialog tags from “she said” to “she exclaimed”, and from “he said” to “he retorted”.

Retorted? Really?

I have an inkling why this happens. We all hear fiction differently. Invariably, editors are also writers, with their own file cabinets bulging with short stories and novels and novelettes. Their ideas are not my ideas. I ought to edit them.

Editors do other things. They are in charge of acceptance decisions. They develop length requirements, publication dates, and set the writer’s pay. I’m all done arguing pay with editors. In my experience, it seldom works. Either take it or don’t.

What else? Editors for magazines and newspapers write articles, when needed. All editors have a keen eye on distribution and sales, some even working the phone. An editor might have an ownership position, with the worry that involves, from management to rent. They furiously email agents, read competitor’s work, monitor industry changes and with the clock ticking, ticking, try to keep from hitting that proverbial desk bottle.

What’s an editor? Sounds a whole lot like a writer.