Editors and Authors

(My apologies to those of you whose life-long ambitions may have been to become editors. You may just want to skip today’s post, as it will seem highly insensitive.)

Despite the fact that as a child I might refuse to finish reading a book in which details I considered significant had been botched (e.g. a child’s age was given as ten, but then we were told she was in seventh grade without being told she was a genius who had skipped a couple of grades). And despite the fact that as I grew older, I’d do the same when authors got easily-researched dialect wrong (e.g. “y’all” happens to be a Southern conjunction for “you-all.” “You-all” is plural. Southerners do not all suffer from multiple personality disorders. No one in the South would go up to a friend sitting alone on a park bench and ask, “How y’all doing?” anymore than Northerners would walk up to a single friend and ask “How are you guys doing?” ). And despite the fact I’ve also been known to abandon books that have far too many typos in them (I have to note I’m actually extremely lenient when it comes to typos, having been humbled by how many I make. By “too many,” I mean at least one per every three pages or so. After all, published books are supposed to have been copyedited and proofread by at least two people). Despite all this, I never dreamed I’d become a professional editor.

But here I am. I fell into it really quite by accident. First, I took an entry-level position at a small legal newspaper that gave me a tiny bit of publishing experience. Then I went off to the library world, and once I had my Master’s degree in that, discovered a reference publisher that was looking for someone with a library degree. I explored the position, decided it sounded interesting, and didn’t get the job. A few weeks later, I was called back and offered the job, because the number-one candidate had never shown up to work. I was so desperate to do something new and different, I swallowed any pride I might have had over not being number one (besides one of my former bosses in the library world with whom I’d come to have a great relationship had told me I don’t interview well, so I felt lucky to be offered anything), and took the job. I had no idea what I was doing. Many would say I still don’t. What I do know is that “my” authors have a power over my moods stronger than any hormonal fluctuations caused by such things as PMS.

My friend Kevin and I, among others, share this mood-related-to-authors trait. We can both be quite ebullient when we’re having “good author days.” These are the days in which authors deliver terrific manuscripts ahead of schedule, tell us they couldn’t have written their books without us, applaud our brilliance, and tell us they have another book, already half-written on one of the hottest topics in the news today. On a day like this, I’m ready to die, feeling there’s nothing more I need accomplish in life.

Then there are the bad days. Half my authors call to tell me they can’t possibly deliver their manuscripts on time. Two much-awaited proposals come in only half done. I get a bad peer review back for a proposal I was sure was going to be the company’s next bestseller. I think things are looking up, because a package arrives in the mail that can only be a manuscript. It is, but it’s 300 pages long and was supposed to be 600 pages long. Meanwhile, Senior Management is telling me none of my books is allowed to fall off of this season’s list.

On days like this, Kevin and I have talked of moving to Scotland, a place where it’s dark, cold, and sunless a good deal of the time to match our dark, cold, and sunless moods. It’s a place where we can read and play golf (Kevin) all day long or read and cook (me) all day long. It’s a place where people don’t seem to have the need to express themselves in flamboyant prose. They’ll give you the facts straight, and you need edit nothing. Sometimes, they won’t even speak to you at all, which is fine.

But, as with almost everything else in life, if I truly were to give up editing, I know I’d miss it. I’ve come to realize very few relationships are as symbiotic as a good editor-author one. The publishing industry is changing so rapidly these days and is so overwhelmed, it seems old-fashioned meaningful author-editor relationships are on the decline, a fact I regret ( for example, when I read Patrick Dennis’s biography last summer, I was amazed at the things his editors did for him -- personally delivering manuscripts to his house, writing endings for his books. I don’t know any editors these days who have the time to do such things – it so often seems I’ve lived a life in which I’ve missed the “Golden Age” of everything, including publishing). When I’m editing, I value the relationship I have with my authors. When I ask fellow editors to edit something I write, I equally value that relationship (I haven't known many who can successfully edit their own work).

So, I’ll stick with it a while longer. Who knows? Maybe one day, Kevin and I will run into each other as retirees in warm, sunny, bright Bermuda. It will have to be at the library, though, as you’d never catch me out on a golf coarse.