Photo by Janek Mann
Do you ever start to show someone how to do something and then realize you aren’t exactly sure how you do it, that you do it differently every time, and that ultimately it’s as much a matter of intuition and experience as it is of following instructions? Like making pie crust? Or juggling? Or explaining to a writer everything you’d like to change in her manuscript?
Me too.
After all, each work is unique in the amount and depth of editing, the degree to which it’s negotiable, the amount of time the writer will have to respond, and (the chainsaw in this juggling act) whether the writer is thick-skinned or touchy. What’s the recipe for dealing with all that?
Well, I don’t have a recipe, but I have some ingredients. And don’t worry—this is not some pukey “start with a cup of care” conceit. (Although care with chainsaws is something that, as a mom, I always recommend.) Rather, here are some of the ingredients I keep in the air while editing, so that when I’m finished, I can incorporate them to the degree I sense is needed.
—My style sheet, where I note spelling or style questions I want the author to resolve.
—Again my style sheet, where I keep a separate list called Issues that I might or might not draw attention to in a cover letter (e.g., overuse of a word or phrase or construction; capitalization of items in a category like art movements or job titles; decisions to run in or set off quotations; odd use of “ibid.” in notes; misplacement of note superscripts; renumbering of figures or tables).
—The editing I show by tracking in the manuscript. If I find myself tracking the same change repeatedly, I might decide to stop tracking it. I’ll either note it in a comment (“Hereafter changed silently”) or add it to my issues list for mention in the letter.
—The comments I add to the manuscript. When I finish editing, I review my comments in the first chunk of the MS in light of what I’ve learned since I wrote them. They always need revising, sometimes for accuracy, sometimes for tone. I delete a good number of them; others I might transfer to the editorial letter.
—My correspondence with the writer. If it has been constant or lengthy, I’ll have a sense of the writer’s personality. I sometimes review the correspondence to get a feel for what tone is appropriate in my letter. If contact has been minimal, my letter will be more polite and restrained.
In writing the letter, I start with a template that includes some boilerplate, and from there I incorporate my ingredients. Issues might go into a bulleted list. A larger issue might go up front in a paragraph of its own. A comment from the MS might get pulled out and into a bullet point. Finally, when it’s time to stir in the chainsaw, I read the letter objectively and remove any hints of impatience, pedantry, condescension, or snark. If I can be honest about it, I convey enthusiasm for the project; if I can’t, I find something kind to say.
Knowing when to stop is key. Too much water, and the crust is soggy. Not enough, and the chainsaw, well . . . I had a feeling the chainsaw was a bad idea. (It usually is.) The point is, learning how to summarize and explain and persuade with a tone of respect and maybe also a little charm is a skill that, like any other, takes practice.
And just like good pie crust, it’s worth the effort. br>
The older I get, the more forgiving I am with unskilled writers. But I do find that when I reassure the author that if he or she doesn't like my changes, the original can easily and cheerfully be restored, I get better responses. (Though in truth, I do grumble to myself about stets, but I have resignedly written an "undo" keyboard macro so that the task isn't too reprehensible for me.) I too always go back through my comments, many of which get deleted or modified. Sometimes, I'm just so taken with a sentence or two that I want just to write a non-editorial comment (such as a compliment or my own observation that backs up the author's point). Most of the time in these situations, though, I refrain, or relegate this to the author letter. I know what you mean about sometimes having a hard time finding something to compliment in the author letter. But being a mother does help. Remember how we'd encourage our nonathletic kids after a soccer game? "You really ran hard [albeit away from the ball]!" I make similar comments: "Your passion for milky spore grub control really shines through in this manuscript!"
Posted by: Patricia Boyd | 07/13/2011 at 09:23 PM
One of my book publisher clients is really good about giving me background information about an author before I start an edit. I can find out what the history of the project is, what the author's goals are, where the sticky bits are, what delicate sensibilities I need to be aware of. I also google the author for information. Is the author respected among peers, egotistical, insecure, strictly business? Does the author have a sense of humor? After that I initiate my first contact and set the tone based on what I've found out. This approach has helped me to successfully deal with the person, who happens to be an author. Each author I've worked with in this way has been happy with the editorial process, even if I was able to get the author to soften on a previously hard-line stance. Sometimes editing is as much about finesse as anything else.
Posted by: me.yahoo.com/a/nwAukqA2o_Hmigiz4glMOxqbOJ7SbzHa | 07/14/2011 at 07:20 AM
Oh, for crying out loud. What an ugly link. I need to fix that. You can reach me at [email protected]. Thanks, Jeanne Hansen
Posted by: me.yahoo.com/a/nwAukqA2o_Hmigiz4glMOxqbOJ7SbzHa | 07/14/2011 at 07:21 AM