Blog: My Editor Screwed Me [and how to fix it]

Now here's a hot button topic for you. Writing is hard enough. Once a manuscript gets accepted, then a new kind of torture starts. They call it The Editing Process.

I've done this a few times. Sometimes my editors have little to say. Other times, they rip my manuscript to shreds. It never fails to scare me when they say nothing, and it never fails to cause despair when they return a manuscript dripping in red ink. I can't seem to win either way. But when an editor returns the manuscript and starts questioning the whys and wherefores of the Grand Work, that's a recipe for meltdowns by any author.

Here are a few unforgettable lines from my editorial experiences: "We want to publish your story, but only if you promise fix the ending." "It's a wonderful story, but I have no idea what you're talking about. Fix that." "It starts off so slow. Can't you introduce concept X at the start?"

It would be so easy to sound off on any editor who dares question the plot elements of the Grand Work. After all, the editor didn't write this story, so how would (s)he know what is supposed to happen when? And obviously the editor hasn't a clue of what inspired the story if (s)he's asking "stupid plot question C." Right?

I wish I could agree. Experience, though, is teaching me otherwise. I get so lost in my stories, so inspired by that song quote or bible verse that started the whole process, that I forget not everyone has my particular music tastes or reading history. I keep forgetting that slang terms I take for granted may not be known by someone halfway across the country. And because my in-house editor reads every draft of my story, even he doesn't always recognize when the story breaks down due to an assumed bit of knowledge that I built into my world and then forgot to hint at. To me, it's obvious that my (soon-to-be-published) story Jemma and the Ghost is in an alternate history. It's steampunk, after all, and I've made lots of references to historical events out of context. Then Irene Radford gently pointed out that she's a history buff and, hey, she knows this stuff didn't happen, so what's the deal?

The deal is I need to stop with the subtle, clever schtick that I thought I had going on (cutesy does NOT work) and actually make it more clear to the reader that yes, we really are in an alternate history kind of world. And she's right. When I looked back at Silk & Steam, which uses the same world, I did actually state it outright at the start of the story. Jemma got missed because Jemma was the prequel and the first story to use this world.

There have been several points in my recent publication career when I didn't understand what my editor was saying. The phrasing of the email confused me, made me panic, and in one case had me convinced I'd have to rewrite the story from ground up to answer the editor's concerns. I could have thrown a tantrum, been a diva, insisted on my work retaining its original format. And if I had, I would have been wrong. Because each time I took the time to read through the editorial comments, then let them sit in my brain for a few days, and then talked to the editor, asking for clarification on statements that didn't make sense, I came to a place of understanding that made my story stronger than it was at the start of the editing process.

So, yes, my editor(s) "screwed" me. I had to delete things, and I had to spell things out for the readers. But you know what? I find myself enjoying my stories better at the end of the editing process than I did at the beginning. I seem to learn something new about writing from each editor I work with. I also have learned that different editors like and hate different things. The first few times your manuscript gets shredded, it feels like the end of the world. I promise, though, it does get easier the further along you go in your career. And if you work with one editor several times, you will find a rhythm and a balance between what you want and what they need.

Lessons I have learned: Don't go to the mat fighting the editor on every single change. Read, absorb, and stew over the suggestions. If there is something you really think is essential and shouldn't be changed, discuss it with your editor. Explain your reasons, ask for the editor's feedback and if (s)he has specific suggestions that can work as a compromise. If you engage your editor as a partner instead of an enemy, you will establish good working relationships as well as a good reputation (always to be valued). And you might just find that your Great Work has somehow managed to become a work worthy of notice by everyone around you.

On that note, tomorrow I will be having another guest author on my blog. Stay tuned!