Three
of them were so spectacularly brilliant that the thought of them still brings
tears to my eyes. Two of them were so spectacularly awful that the thought of
them still brings tears to my eyes.
A
writer’s relationship with an editor is often compared to a marriage, because
it is so intimate. Now, I’ve been married twice, and once widowed. Trust me:
the relationship with my editors is more intimate by far.
Your
editor is the only person on earth whom you invite in to crawl around inside
your brain and spirit.
Your
editor’s comments can lift you off the ground to soar among the clouds, or lift
you off an overpass to dive straight down to the asphalt.
I
don’t know if all editors are aware of the massive power they possess over your
work (future, ego, self-concept, life, death, and clothing size). All of them
should be aware. An editor needs
all the fine surgical skills of an ophthalmologist, the power of a welterweight
boxer, the artistic vision of Leonardo, and the wisdom of Kermit the Frog.
An
editor needs to coax gold from base metal, sweet water from mud, a song from the
strangled screams of someone denied a righteous advance. The editor needs to do
this while helping the writer believe all the while that this endeavor is
possible, worth it, and may result in the next DaVinci Code … or something.
I
didn’t envy the lot of editors, and I surely do not envy it now that I have
become one.
Late
last spring, I became the editor in chief of a Young Adult only publisher
called Merit Press. We’re striving for classy, classic YA fiction that’s
intense, readable, perhaps featuring a little bit of magical realism but no
werewolves need apply – only because that kind of story isn’t getting its
propers right now. Buying and editing six great books so far (the first
published in December, 2012) and sitting on the other side of the desk has been
so humbling that I couldn’t beat a Yorkshire terrier in a staring contest.
However
much my respect for writers has soared as I have moved deeply into this
process, my respect for editors (whose job is often thankless and beleaguered)
outstrips even my now-epic respect for writers.
Imagine
a world without an editor. It would be like a world without laws (Don’t get me
started on the perils of self-publishing and “retaining editorial control,” ye
gods! That’s as useful to a writer as retaining water!)
Of
course, the great editors I’ve worked with have done their work so well, with
such grace and gentle hands, that – after a short period lying in bed sobbing –
I actually wanted to make all the changes they suggested, to make the book
better, but also to please them.
These
great editors have, in my life, a value on par with platinum.
And
the bad ones? They probably wouldn’t have been so awful if my book had been
better.
You
know who you are. But you know what? You did your best.
So
I forgive you.
I
still love you, because as awful as you were those times, it sort of all came
out okay in the end. Much as I hate to admit it, your vision for my book is as
valid as my vision is.
Does
it really take two? IMHO, it absolutely does. For example, a good editor would
have taken out “IMHO.” Having anything published without a stern editor? It
would be a horrible fate. I would no more want to be MY OWN editor than I do
bowel surgery on myself in the woods with a stick.
Unless
they involve pure abuse (and yes, you almost verged on that, and you know which
day that was …) many of the most difficult relationships in the world – parent
and child, husband and wife, coach and athlete – are some of the most
strenuous. That’s the hell of them. That’s the joy.
- - - - - - - - - -
Jacquelyn Mitchard is the author of the just released What We Saw at Night. You can learn more about her and her many other novels at http://jacquelynmitchard.com.
