Category Archives: editing

5

About that edit memo

The other day, one of my clients said he thought the process of editing was negative.  That comment really surprised me as I have always felt that an editor’s intention is to make the material he or she is editing better.

Indeed, I have many clients who are really troubled when their editors don’t touch their manuscripts (and frankly, I think they should be).  These authors welcome their editors’ comments and work with them to improve their material.

In the end though, I advise writers to remember that their work is their work and that if they feel strongly about the edits they are receiving, they can always respectfully disagree. The process of getting a manuscript into publishable shape, however, should be collaborative and thinking that editing is negative is not the right attitude, in my opinion.

Check out these humorous and fun thoughts about editing.

I would love to hear how you feel about the editorial process, whether you think it is positive or negative and why.

5

Good advice

Laura Miller at Salon always has something interesting brewing, and this week it’s an interview with legendary editor, publisher and author Robert Gottlieb. Illustrious as his career has been (he has edited a who’s who of literary luminaries, including Toni Morrison, John Cheever, Salman Rushdie, Doris Lessing, Margaret Drabble, Joseph Heller, etc. etc.) his perspective on his role is refreshingly down to earth: “I love what I do, which is a service job.” It’s true that Gottlieb can afford to be modest, given the hyperarticulate bunch of important cultural figures who comprise his fanclub, but it’s hard to find fault with an editor who believes his job “is to be in sympathy with what the writer is doing and to try to help her or him make it better of what it is, not to make it into something else. Because that way there will be tears.” Or, with respect to the editorial process, “You can take it out, but you can’t put it in.”

I might just embroider that on a throw pillow. Or have it tattooed to my forearm.

Gottlieb was (and still is) a veritable font of solid advice. He told Toni Morrison to quit her day job. He’s advised “generations of writers who have writer’s block, ‘Don’t think about writing. Think about typing.’” Assuming that Gottlieb has not cornered the market on good counsel, and taking a page from Katie Couric (who has cleverly put together a book based not on her own thoughts or experiences but things other people have told her called The Best Advice I Ever Got) what is the best writing related advice you’ve received?

8

Just as Video Killed the Radio Star…

Yesterday I caught author and historian Simon Schama discussing his new essay collection Scribble Scribble, on WYC’s Leonard Lopate Show. During the interview, he bristled good naturedly at Lopate’s suggestion that the book, which is subtitled “Writing on Politics, Ice Cream and My Mother,” might be stream of consciousness in style, and lamented the fact that there was altogether too much of that sort of writing on line. Indeed, Schama said that blogs had “deformed” the essay into an “indiscriminate effusion of free association” predicated on the idea that if it’s interesting to me, it must be interesting to everybody. This, he said, is the absolute the opposite of the essay, which has a clear structure, “a dramaturgy” as clearly defined and carefully constructed as a great short story. Ah yes. I flashed back to my tenth grade English teacher who, on a weekly basis, would eviscerate what I thought was pretty terrific prose (Long sentences! Many adjectives! Big words galore!) until I learned to write an organized, effective essay. I can only imagine what she thinks of the blogosphere.

In any case, I’m not sure that I’d issue quite the blanket condemnation of bloggers everywhere. Given the numbers, I feel sure some are writing essays of the sort Schama might approve, but as cranky and school-marmish as Schama sounds, I could not help but agree. My inbox overflows with proposals for personal narratives that are heartfelt, horrifying and even heroic (struggles with cancer, devastating loss, political repression, etc.) but not especially well-constructed or well-suited to a broad readership. Whether this is a result of the deforming influence of the blog, I’m not sure, though blogs certainly aid and abet the notion that because every person has a story, he or she really ought to share it with the world. I do, however, realize that I am not exactly part of the solution. Much as I’d like to tut tut along with Schama, few of my own on-line ramblings on publishing would stand up to Mrs. Groveman’s red pen.

What say you? Just as video killed the radio star, has the blog killed the essay?

4

On and on and on and on

I’ve never really had a problem writing at length before—whether for a class, my own personal writing endeavors, or for something as innocuous as a journal entry (though I would hardly call my journals from my high school years innocuous…embarrassing is more like it). In fact, writing too much at length is generally my problem. Whether or not I actually have any idea what I’m going to write about. This has frustrated me and I have pinned it down to the reason that I could never discipline myself well enough to actually complete anything of any merit that was not already an assignment or some other construct with strict guidelines that I must meet.

I’ve written before about my need for an endpoint in all things that I voluntarily take on. The problem with creative writing, however, is that the endpoint can hardly be arbitrary and the possibilities for setting one are virtually limitless. I once had what I thought was a great idea for a writing project—not one that was to be of any seriousness or real literary mettle, but just something silly that would at least result in a completed story of sorts. (Spoiler alert: I fail in the end…but I learn something!) Walking downtown one day through a particularly touristy section of New York, I happened across a souvenir stand that was selling really cheesy looking postcards—worse than usual, even. Luckily, for such poor quality, you didn’t have to pay much and on a whim, with the beginnings of my plan in mind, I bought 30 postcards for a mere dollar.

What was my BRILLIANT plan? I was going to send one postcard every day—or every other day at least—and on each postcard would be an installment of a story. The postcards would be numbered in sequence and I would have exactly the space provided on a standard card for each missive. Surely this would be an amazing thing! I eagerly started in on my story, filling up three postcards without stopping…or even thinking of where I would eventually want my little fairy tale to go in terms of inevitable conclusion. I only had 30 cards on which to do this and getting more would feel a little bit like cheating. No matter, I mailed off the first three on consecutive days to some (very dear) friends all the way across the ocean.

Caught up in the excitement, I was over 20 cards in before I realized that I was still in what I thought to be the introduction to my story. This was disastrous! Even though I continued to write about my doomed princess in the notebook I had recorded each card in for my own sake, I knew that I had once again failed to edit myself properly, had not done what should have been so simple and laid out at least the most basic of plans for what should happen. This is, I say again, a constant problem of mine. I get excited by an idea, start in on it full steam, and realize too late that in neglecting an outline or forethought into consequences, I have reached yet another dead end in my writing.

While writing a lot may not always be a problem, writing too much too soon without proper planning seems to be a prevalent one. Does it make sense to structure your work so rigidly? Does this block any real creative flow, or is some sort of guide necessary in order for any work of fiction to really happen? Just writing is always my go-to method, but clearly, it doesn’t always quite work. How do you resolve these issues?

(P.S. My friends, I think, liked the incomplete, introduction-heavy story anyhow.)

12

It’s a process

One thing that has always fascinated me is the writing process. Broad, I know, but what I mean is I find it very interesting to learn how different writers go about constructing and creating books in very different ways—I can tell you that no two writers seem to approach it the same way.

Some writers create meticulous outlines, breaking down each chapter to the last detail.  Sometimes these outlines can be so extensive, that the book is virtually complete before the actual writing has even begun.  Some writers simply sit down and write.  A stream of consciousness kind of thing, the words flow onto the page (or screen) in rapid succession, only to be followed by an extensive edit process after the book is completed.  And still some writers will lay out the entire book in their heads before composing even the first sentence.

These are just three of what I can only guess are a countless number of ways writers develop, create, and construct their stories. And it seems that with every new writer comes a new technique.  Which I think is fantastic, because at its core, writing is a creative process, and with something like that, the fact is there is no right answer to the way it should be done.

What’s your method? Do you find yourself looking to improve or modify it?

3

Writers dish about editors

I enjoyed reading this piece from The Awl written by five published authors who write candidly (sometimes very candidlycheck out Emily Gould’s piece) about their experiences with their editors. There’s so much great behind-the-scenes information in here about the publishing processhow agents work, how editors acquire books (or sometimes lose out to others), and how different each individual experience is. Even though it’s written from different points of view, this piece speaks to how unpredictable the publishing process can be. Each author makes some wise observations about what you can expect, what you might actually get, and how frustrating and/or refreshing that can be depending on where you fall on that curve! The idea that editors are overworked and that your book isn’t the only one on their list is something that authors and agents alike sometimes forget to take into consideration, so it’s a good point. It also illustrates to me how important perspective is, both in your publishing career and in anything else you do in life.

In this piece, you’re getting the scoop from those who have been through it. I hope you all find some good takeaway, or at the least an entertaining read, and ultimately see this a positive take on the publishing process. For me, even as an insider (or maybe because I’m an insider and know many of the players), there’s a lot of juicy stuff in here!

7

Say what you mean to say….

by Miriam

The thing about publishing people is that most of us make a living being all judgy about other people’s work. For some of us, that extends to other areas of our lives. I find myself editing my friends when they start telling me about their job woes, their relationship problems, their kids’ lack of interest in homework, you name it. “If she’d started out with that information,” goes the internal monologue, “I wouldn’t be making a mental list of what I need at Costco and now have no clue what she’s asking me.” Most of the time, the editing also takes place in my head and I don’t actually ask for a stronger opening and a more concise narration.

Given that a large part of our mission is to tell authors how to ply their trade better, I’m often struck by how hard it is to give truly helpful advice on how to (a) write well and (b) be a successful writer. These “Writing Aphorisms” in the Huffington Post remind me that while we’re all incredibly preoccupied with the subject, analyzing and communicating the essence of great writing is as difficult as deciphering Gertrude Stein’s meaning…ever.

Can you share five elements that make up great writing for you? I’ll try to come up with my five and we’ll compare notes.

12

It’s really just that I so very much like using rather superfluous words.

by Rachel S.

For my very-first-ever real blog entry, I thought I’d have to look hard to find something both relevant and personally interesting to write about. Surprisingly (to me), it took under 5 minutes before this Huffington Post article, written by Linda Silversten, came to my attention. I jumped on it immediately in a guilty rush to see what she had to say about writers who use too many unnecessary words in their prose. Noting that in recent years published writing has become more and more conversational, Silversten took it upon herself to pick two recent bestsellers and count the number of taboo “filler” words peppering the pages for comparison. While Elizabeth Gilbert and Seth Godin didn’t err too far to overuse, Silversten still found an overwhelming amount of ‘thats’ and ‘sos’ in the portions of text she chose to tally.

I’ve known ever since in-class essays became a normal testing method in grade school that I have a strong tendency to write far too much and use more words than are necessary to convey a point or image. While this was a point of pride in school (I was always a little bit smug, though I tried to hide it, when I asked the teacher for more paper during every exam), I’ve eventually come to understand that MORE writing doesn’t necessarily make for BETTER writing. I’m still working on the short sentences thing, though. I don’t think that these little filler words that this article brings up are as much of a problem in my own writing as are an overabundance of adverbs and split-infinitives (the phrase still sends me running to the dictionary every time someone tells me I have too many). Are Linda Silverton’s taboo words just as much a problem for you as they seem to be for most writers, or do you have words or tendencies of your own that you work to suppress?

10

The Austen question

by Stephanie

As a former college undergraduate who majored in English literature, I was never too far removed from the world of Jane Austen. Hers are novels that are firmly situated in the literary canon, and rightfully so. Her writing is more than well-known for its ability to weave elegant moral thought with comically ironic plot turns that prove to be not only witty but profound as well.

So I was interested to see this article at BBC News regarding a three-year-long study that suggests that someone else was heavily involved in the editing process of Austen’s manuscripts, namely an editor who worked for her publisher, John Murray II. This is a pretty big revelation, and indeed one that could incite both discussion and derision. Some could argue that the claim diminishes Austen’s prowess, making her writing not the product of her own talent, but rather something from an editor’s red pen. In other ways, as the article suggests, it could stand as an indicator of Austen’s openness to trying new things with her writing.

Either way, it’s interesting to think that new discoveries can still be made two hundred years after a book is published.

5

Editing for Eternity

By Rachel

Every Friday I sit down and I start to write my weekly DGLM blog, and after writing and revising, revising some more, and then perhaps one more edit, I’m ready to send it off to Lauren (who’ll look over it – sometimes suggest more edits – and then post to the blog). When I read my blog posts, I usually think I could’ve said something more interesting, or would rather have touched on an issue in a different way, so if it was up to me, I’d be revising my blog entries for hours before I turned in the final version (which is why I never start writing them until late Friday morning – so I’m forced to meet a deadline).


Blog posts are one thing, but thinking about the endless self-editing that goes with book writing exhausts me! If I ever had the guts to sit down and write a novel, I know I’d never be able to hand in a finished manuscript because I’d want to rewrite every page, and then make edits on the edits. Take a look at Jean Hannah Edelstein’s Guardian article on the dangers of “overcooking” books, and if you’re a compulsive self-editor, you’ll relate easily to this one.


So, how many times have you revised your manuscript? And, are you ever really satisfied with the end result?