Category Archives: editing

15

Which or that and other gripes about grammar

The question of “which” versus “that” came up when I drafted my last blog post and the person editing my post took a stab at which one she thought it should be but then suggested I double check. Here’s the sentence: Aimee Bender, the talented author of most recently The Particular Sadness of Lemon Cake, has this enlightening piece in the latest O Magazine that talks about her decision to create a writing contract with a friend that would allow for each of them to maintain certain very specific writing rules complete with confirmation e-mails that each had stuck to their previously agreed-to commitments.

What do you think it is? I was happy to come upon this article about the subject in a recent writersdigest.com piece, and I thought it was a useful topic to cover since it’s a common challenge to get right, and like the questioner, I think many people do feel the two words are interchangeable. The explanation given here by Brian Klems is clear and anecdotal, making it easy to digest. Based on his advice, I’d say we got it right in my blog post (thanks, Rachel!).

I started digging around to read more about common grammatical mistakes, and came across this fun and snarky piece from litreactor.com that highlights the 20 most common grammatical errors (or word usage mistakes, as many of them are, and happy to say Which and That is right at the top). And I’d like to add to the list “I” and “me” — how often do you hear someone say “Between you and I” which should be “Between you and me”?

What’s your biggest grammar pet peeve? Is there a grammatical faux pas that drives you crazy? Oh, there are so many. Please share with us some of your favorite grammar gripes.

6

Writing Work-Out

It’s important, in writing (and I suppose in life in general) to know what your weaknesses are. Deep down, we all know what those might be, whether or not we ever own up to them, in public at least. Right off the bat, I know that my biggest weakness in writing—and I mean all writing, whether it be text messages, this blog, notebooks, let alone anything creative I might ever try my hand at—is writing too. darn. much.

Sometimes flowery, elegant, heavily detailed prose is perfectly acceptable, even necessary. That’s true for sure, and that’s certainly the type of writing that comes to mind first when I hear the critique that I have overwritten anything. But stereotypical, stodgy overdone prose isn’t the only kind of writing that needs to be pared back. Extraneous explanation, overuse of adjectives, adverbs, nouns and even verbs can take power and coherency away from a paragraph, essay or book.

The other day, I happened upon this handy little internet application: The Writer’s Diet.

While not completely infallible, it’s a great tool for getting a sense of just how many unnecessary words are muddling up your message. As a test, I ran some query letters through and wouldn’t you know, the letters that I had originally found most effective, enticing and intriguing were the ones that passed the test of leanness. The letters that I had less interest in were the more “heart attack” prone of my queries. Obviously, this isn’t going to be true across the board, but for me, it’s helped. I restrain myself a lot on this blog, you know, and I still tend to go on and on at odd times. It’s a habit I’m trying to break, and I think my writing is improving because of it.

Is this something that’s helpful to you? Test it out! See where you fall. What sort of bandaids have you discovered for your own writing weaknesses?

 

P.S. I ran this blog entry through the Writer’s Diet Test, and it definitely came up a little flabby…I’m working on it, guys!

10

The long…and the long of it

For a literature major it’s somewhat shameful to have to confess that I find really long books  daunting.  From the Steve Jobs biography to the Game of Thrones series (both of which are on my “what I want to read next” list) page counts north of 400 pages give me pause.  So many words, so little time.

Inveterate bookworm that I’ve always been, I remember the days when nothing was as exciting as having a giant doorstop of a book at hand and a school vacation (or even a sick day) providing unfettered hours of reading.  Now, with manuscripts, proposals, blogs, articles, e-mails and all the other content fighting for attention, a really long book produces something akin to apprehension, maybe anxiety.  Which is why I found Marc Wortman’s piece in The Daily Beast so interesting.

Of course, I’ve always been aware of the economics of publishing long books—we have, on occasion, advised authors to trim unwieldy manuscripts with the warning that editors are sometimes scared of fat tomes and not just because they take so much time to edit but because they are more expensive to produce.  Wortman’s argument that e-book pricing is encouraging authors to write more and publishers to cut less is, therefore, intriguing and not altogether surprising.

Dickens and other serial writers of the 19th century got paid for content, so more was definitely more.  Now, according to Wortman, publishers want to charge more for e-books and feel they can justify doing so by offering longer books.    Interesting theory.   Not sure there’s sufficient evidence to support it, but I wouldn’t be shocked if there’s some truth to it.

How do you all feel about long books?  And, does it make a difference whether you’re reading them in print or on your e-reader?

11

An editor and publisher who gets the job done right.

Some of you might know Amy Einhorn by name, especially if you work in book publishing. But even if you don’t, you certainly know some of the books she’s helped to bring to market. Most notably and successfully The Help, a compelling but challenging first novel by Kathryn Stockett that was famously (and embarrassingly in retrospect) rejected by 60 agents and publishers. The book has gone on to sell over 10 million copies! It was the first novel ever published by Amy Einhorn Books.

This interview with Amy from a recent New York Observer gets to the heart of why she’s so good at what she does. And I think there’s something to be taken away from her approach to publishing. She doesn’t just tell her authors to market and promote their books. She does it too. She takes each of her books and pushes them gently into the market, overseeing all aspects of editorial, production, design, marketing and publicity.

While it’s an impossible business to master, and there is no question that luck and timing play a big role in an author’s success, there is definitely some strategy at work here too.

Amy’s imprint has more hits than misses, and reading about how she does it you can understand why. She has a small, eponymous imprint with the resources of a big house behind her. It’s that rare combination of little gal and big gun that has the potential turn books into bestsellers. That combined with her good instincts and loving touch makes for each book to get its share of support and attention. It’s like raising kids. You have to treat each one differently and play to their strengths. There is no one size fits all model for parenting, and that same can be said for selling books. It makes me think about how many good books are out there that don’t get the right kind of support to nurture them along and wind up selling poorly.

I love the anecdote in the piece about a manuscript full of Post-its — this is so old-school, and I also admire writer Emily Witt’s observation about Einhorn’s “commitment to thorough editing and a lot of exuberant salesmanship.” These are things that still matter. A lot.

I know Amy personally (we have 7 daughters between us!) and professionally (we had a book together when she was at Warner, and I would so love to sell her something for Amy Einhorn Books), and I like her very much. I think it would be hard to not like Amy. She’s got that kind of personality that just bubbles with positive enthusiasm and it’s infectious. She’s genuinely curious, interested, engaged, and she makes you feel like you could talk with her endlessly. Come to think of it, with her gift of the gab, she would have been a good agent too!

So, while there is a lot of talk about publishers getting things wrong, I think this piece about a really smart and savvy publisher is worth a read and offers a bit of inspiration to start the year. Good things can happen in book publishing, and with the help (just caught the pun!) of people like Amy Einhorn, sometimes they even do.

5

Time spent

Whenever I’m asked what I do for a living, invariably my response is followed by questions. For starters, most seem to be pretty unsure of exactly what it is I do. I’ve been called an editor more times than I care to admit, which…while sort of true, is only sort of true. But in my time as an agent, there are a few questions that I have heard repeatedly along the way. It always starts with: so what does an agent do? Then I usually get asked whether I’m nervous about the “new rumor” someone’s heard that publishing is all but extinct. The last question, and segue to my topic this week, is almost always: do you write your own material as well as sell books?

And it always throws me for a loop.

There are undoubtedly plenty of people who work in publishing who also write on the side, but I have to admit that writing was never something I felt I was good at—it was always the reading and editing that I enjoyed.  But that’s just me.

Regardless, it always made me think of my own situation, and now leads me to wonder about YOUR situation. What I want to know from you, our readers, is this: do you spend more time writing or do you spend more time reading?

1

Reining in the red pen.

Strangely, I’m thinking today about natural disasters. What with the baby earthquake of Tuesday afternoon and the impending hurricane disaster, it’s an odd choice, but such are the inner workings of my mind. In any case, destruction is on the brain. In between putting an extra pitcher of water in the fridge, and checking to make sure the flashlight has batteries and that there are matches for the candles (all while dubiously looking out at the blue skies and bright sun shining this morning), I remembered about the essay I told my friend I would read and edit for him over the weekend.

Destruction of another sort, editing an essay, manuscript or any other piece of writing (especially for a friend) is always a tricky balance, at least for me. Oftentimes, I’ll love an idea or angle, but the writing is just so muddled that while I understand it because it’s been explained to me verbally, the sentences themselves just don’t make sense. Or the eloquence isn’t there—there’s not enough personality or individualism to the words; they could have been written by anyone.  It’s taken a few years of practice to train myself not to get carried away just rewriting the whole darn thing. I would start out well, correcting punctuation and grammar, suggesting a subtle word change or elaboration, but once I became comfortable with a piece, the writing would start to look curiously like my own.

Of course, I had to stop myself, because it isn’t my work. If it was, I would probably have someone else look at it and value their opinion, but I’d want the actual narrative to be mine. Where to draw the line, though? When someone asks you to read a draft—whether it’s something academic or personal, how do you rein in your input? Suggesting a reworking of a paragraph, giving the hint of an idea; these are perfectly acceptable creative edits, but in college I had to learn to restrain myself from taking a friend’s muddled essay—with the kernel of a great idea!—and just tearing it apart and inserting paragraphs of my own.

Is this something you are guilty of? How have you learned to overcome it and what sort of techniques do you use to subtly suggest new and better (in your opinion) phrases and structure to a friend?

Luckily, with this new essay to edit, I’ll have plenty to do if this supposed hurricane barricades me inside this weekend and who knows, maybe inspiration will strike in the face of disaster.

9

A snark’s snark

I’m not sure it’s legal to work in publishing and not love Dorothy Parker.  The dame’s snarkiness has inspired millions of mean rejection letters from editors so ground under by their thankless jobs that the only joy they find in their dark, miserable lives is putting their rage (at incoherent prose, ill-formed thoughts, ridiculous storylines) on their publisher’s letterhead and sending it out to agents, who take the blow for their clients.

It’s not just editors.  Ms. Parker is also the patron saint of agents who have to sift through unreadable queries (see Jim’s blog posts on this topic), spend their evenings with manuscripts so flawed you literally don’t know where to begin pointing out problems, and stare agape at vicious e-mails from authors who did not take kindly to their form letter rejection or clients who took even less kindly to their attempts at righting their sinking ships.  I think all of us here at DGLM have at one time or another crafted bitingly sarcastic, splendidly caustic, unimaginably cruel letters in response to an offensive query or manuscript.  And, then, we’ve hit “delete” and taken the high, boring, inoffensive road.

In fact, I think all intelligent readers have a bit of Dorothy Parker in them.  How often have you wanted to throw a book across the room in bitter disappointment or indulged in homicidal fantasies about a bestselling author you’re convinced was taught to write by feral monkeys?  How about when, as Jane recently mused, you plod through a book everyone has touted as the best thing since Nutella only to find that you hate, hate, hate it (The Help, anyone)?

Unfortunately, in this era of political correctness and “everybody wins” thinking, Ms. Parker’s take-no-prisoners approach to criticism is becoming obsolete.  Which is why we should treasure every snarky word and phrase…like these.

C’mon, get mean.  Share some imaginary putdowns you’d throw out about a book or author you just can’t stand.

7

Deadlines

Yesterday was a doozie of a day: I’d scheduled meetings nearly back to back, allowing what I optimistically believed was just enough time to dash from one to another, pausing briefly at the office between my uptown morning and my downtown afternoon to attend to some administrative details. Alas, it was not to be. My train was late, which made me late for my first appointment, and each subsequent meeting ran later and longer and put me further in arrears.   In any event, Thursday is my day to post to the blog, a date shared with the always punctual Mike (sigh) and clearly, I missed my deadline. Worse yet, I’m now repurposing my dog-ate-my-homework tale as some sort of object lesson. Shameless.  Because much as it may not seem that way, trade publishing is, in fact, a deadline driven business.

Although books have a long incubation period, it’s a carefully mapped one. Delivery dates in contracts are taken seriously, and managing editors, the formidable people charged with keeping the trains running on time, are a zealous lot. Understandably so, and for a glimpse of what they do, have a look at this. http://youngtopublishing.com/2011/04/pub-perspectives-managing-ed/

Publication dates are planned, sometimes to the hour, and a finished book is built upon a vast array of deadlines, including but not limited to: the delivery date—the contractually agreed-upon day that the author must send a full manuscript to her editor;  the “transmittal” date, when a revised manuscript is handed over to the production department; plus deadlines for tip sheets (one page cheat sheets created for all upcoming titles for in-house use); author questionnaires; excerpts for  the“ reading notebooks” sent to sales reps;  galley copy;  catalog copy;  cover blurbs, etc. etc,  Few of the dates are soft targets, and meeting them is important. I exhort my clients to be punctual not only to appease managing editors, but because once a book is scheduled, it’s in the author’s best interests not to have it “fall of the list.”

This can be hard. Writing is not building widgets. Output is erratic. For every author who is brilliant with a deadline (here journalists really shine) there are authors for who find handing off their manuscript, proclaiming the book “Done,” is nearly impossible.  I have literally had to pry a flash drive from an author’s reluctant hands lest he give it “just one additional polish.”  Can anyone identify with this? Indeed, I wonder where you fall. Good with deadlines? Loath to let your baby go?  Don’t worry, your answers will not be held against you.

14

Do you ever get tired of reading?

I was on the phone with one of my sisters lately, talking about something or other I was reading, and she asked me a question that I just don’t think about that often: “Don’t you ever get tired of reading?”

My response? “Of course not! Well, I mean…sometimes. But only the bad stuff. I mean, not REALLY tired, but sometimes you need a break. But I pretty much love it.” Or something to that effect.

Let me try to answer slightly more eloquently now.

I don’t actually get tired of reading in general. That’s like getting tired of eating or watching reality television! Sometimes though, sure, reading can become a bit of a chore.

When it’s Thursday night, and you just want to eat Thai food and watch Project Runway, but you look at your Kindle and see 17 manuscripts waiting to be read, it can be kind of a bummer. And sometimes when you’re reading the third draft of something and still can’t put your finger on exactly how to direct an author to solve a problem, it can be frustrating.

As I’m sure everyone realizes, nothing about writing (or agenting or editing) is an exact science. When that unknowable factor starts to needle me, it’s usually time to put down the manuscript and refocus.

Over the past (mumble) years I’ve been here, I’ve found that the best way to keep a fresh eye on the manuscripts I’m reading is to make sure that I’m regularly reading published books. I try to read a book a week (some months go better than others) because when I don’t I find that I lose perspective a bit. Reading published books clears my mind and lets me go back to new material feeling a bit refreshed. It keeps me from always reading as though I’m looking to find problems in material which is often unproductive. I’d rather simply read, and then let problems uncover themselves if that makes any sense.

In the long run, I’ve always felt best about editing material when I’ve just finished something I loved.

Does the same hold true for you, dear readers? Do you write best when you make sure to read things you love regularly? Or is the flip side true that if you get stuck in the writing of something, the best thing to do is try to work on something different to clear your system a bit?

17

When three people tell you you’re drunk, sit down

So, I have been thinking about the art of listening, but not only listening – actually hearing what is “said” and acting on what you are hearing.

When I take on a project initially, I am 100 percent sure I can sell it.  I help my client make their proposal or manuscript (if it is a novel) the best it can be, and then I submit it.  I often think that editors turn down material just to do so—they dismiss it without reading it carefully or giving it their full consideration for a variety of reasons.  Needless to say, this pisses me off.  Then there are those projects which elicit rejections from a number of editors for the same reason. When this happens, I begin to listen to what is being said by my colleagues on the publishing side.  Most always,  I share these helpful and constructive comments with my clients who often choose to address them before we go back out to a second round of publishers.

Currently, I have a client who on my advice was more than happy to address those editors’ suggestions she agreed with and I am still hopeful that we will sell her project once the changes are made and the material is back out in the marketplace.

Then there are the clients who don’t listen to my advice or editors’ feedback at all.  They go to their friends and colleagues for opinions, argue with whatever suggestions I make and (sometimes) request that I respond to editors in ways that I think (and let them know) are not appropriate.  I wonder why people like this hire agents at all.  Really.  These authors are paying a commission for me to provide them with advice I have garnered after years of experience.  True, they don’t have to take my advice, but if they are just going to listen to everyone around them and disagree with their agent’s opinion, then why have an agent at all.  In fact, the inability to listen to one’s agent does not bode well for a good working relationship with an editor and publisher.

I have found, over the last many years, that listening and acting on what you hear is an art and something that is very important in moving forward in life and in one’s career.

I wonder if you agree.