What, anyway, does an editor do when she gets your seriously
researched, soundly written, and carefully proofed manuscript? What are
his motives, goals, and allegiances? Do they think they know more about
your topic than you do after all that research?
I've been editing, and sometimes writing, for more than three decades,
and can tell you where some of us are coming from.
Early in my career, I heard Ivan Doig talk about the process of getting
his book This House of Sky published. It was accepted by something like
the 28th publisher his agent (a volunteering neighbor) sent it to.
Then, Doig said, came the editing, which was "like being pecked to
death by a duck."
I immediately went out and bought a coffee mug with a duck on it, to
keep on my desk and square away my perspective.
Editors are The Reader’s
Advocate
Years later, a non-literary person asked me seriously "What does an
editor do, anyway?" Lightning struck and I articulated not only a
definition but also my philosophy. "An editor is an advocate for the
reader and for the writer." Her job is to make sure they understand each
other.
That means that we have to ask dumb questions sometimes, which doesn't
mean we're making fun of writers' works. Or, we can try to fix things we
don't understand, and if we mess up, that's a good message that the reader
wouldn't "get it" either.
Once I was editing a solidly researched piece on Montana saddle makers
of the 19th century. I rewrote an awkward sentence and, when the author
saw it, he said I had reversed what he intended to say. He also was kind
enough to note that my misunderstanding showed him that the sentence truly
needed to be redone.
You, the author, don't have the luxury of sitting in the room with each
of your readers while they read your article or book and ask you
questions. We editors try to be all your readers at once.
Editors are on the Writer's Side Too
But our hearts are also with you creators. Many of us also write, and
all of us read fanatically. In fact, the best of us are generalists who
know a little about many things--even if just enough to ask those dumb
questions that send you back to your research notes for clarifying
details. That's so you’ll sound as good as you should.
F. Scott Fitzgerald is just one of a zillion masters of fiction who
couldn't spell worth a darn. Is that any reason to prevent the world from
pondering and enjoying The Great Gatsby? Heck no, that's why God invented
Maxwell Perkins, the legendary Scribner’s editor who fixed such
weaknesses!
Besides repairing spelling and punctuation, we solve grammar problems
for you. We may suggest reorganizing your nonfiction completely, or ask
you to kill off a minor but distracting character in your novel. Sometimes
the publishing deal hangs on your agreement with the suggestions, and how
well you carry them out. Sometimes we just hope you'll see the book from
the outside as we do.
We're your first reader, and your "biggest reader," in the sense of
"I'm your biggest fan." We know how good your content is, and want to make
sure it comes through with rough edges filed away. We're Myrna Loy
straightening William Powell's bow tie in The Thin Man.
For me, editing always includes negotiating with the author. I believe
that some suggestions I make aren't essential (just as I believe that
others are). If some of those phrasings or thoughts are totally dear to
your heart--okay, they can stay. But I still will mark them up, and ask
whether you're sure you want the text to read this way.
If you give me a good reason for needing to say a thing a certain way,
I will agree. Needing to say? That happens in nonfiction when every finely
finessed word counts, when the research shows that you have to fudge a
statement so because it simply can't be stated baldly. If I've "cleaned it
up" to clarity that's unwarranted, you can tell me, and we'll take it back
to fudge.
It’s We - the Writer & the Editor -
Not Just the Editor
When I'm editing a manuscript, I feel very much "with" the author. This
isn't a contest or a grading situation. It's the two of us working
together to make sure this piece is the best.
It is definitely never about making your work sound as if I wrote it.
Editors who approach their work with that attitude should be kicked out of
the trade.
They're out there, but definitely in the minority.
One thing I may have to do, though, is apply "house style." That means
that my employer, your publisher, requires numbers under 100 to be spelled
out, not written in numerals. Or demands an end comma in a series. This
isn't between you and me, it's just something you have to put up with to
get your article or book published here.
Once I had to cut a fourth of the length from a nonfiction book
manuscript, because the author was so enthusiastic about his topic that he
just couldn't stop. I warned him that the manuscript would be shortened,
and he feared the worst. But when I'd changed all the prepositional
phrases to simple possessives, and made other cuts that didn't change
content, he was delighted. He said my touch was "surgical."
I was relieved, and still treasure the accolade.
Barbara Fifer is a freelance editor. She's good; I know because I
use her. She can be reached at:
bfifer@onewest.net
