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Saturday, August 6, 2011

On Editors: An Apologia for Those Who Prepare Works for Publication

A few people have commented recently on how much I write: this blog, my forthcoming textbook,* regular articles for a healthcare association’s website, and editing projects undertaken for friends and family. On this last point they have a sense of wonder that I can take somebody’s garbled prose and make it read well. They seem to believe that writing and editing are gifts from the gods; that they’re genetic, like an ear for music; that you either have the language gene or you don’t.
 
But they’re wrong. Writing is simply a skill you can practice. You can tinker with your prose (or poetry), hone it, polish it; you can do it yourself or let an editor help, as I’m doing for a friend. He has written a 24-page book proposal, and I’m emending it (making suggestions for improvement). I prepared him for what is to come with the following commentary about the writing and editing process.  Perhaps this little essay will help salve some wounds when he sees his manuscript practically bleeding with my red-pen changes.
First, I love editors. Nothing I write is so good that it can’t be made better, so I always appreciate an editor’s suggestions. But they are suggestions only. Unless it’s a work done for hire, the final product is mine alone and I am free to accept or reject another’s opinion. Of course a publisher is free to accept or reject my MS too, so I give an editor’s or agent’s comments considerable weight.
Second, there is no such thing as good writing; there is only good rewriting. To make something an easy read involves a lot of rewriting. (“Easy reading is damned hard writing.” – Nathaniel Hawthorne.)
Third, it’s really, really hard to edit one’s own work—which is another reason I give serious consideration to the comments of others. When I am proofing and rewriting, I find it helpful to change the venue. If I composed the draft at my computer, I print it out and take the document to the living room or the pool or somewhere else. A change of scene helps me see the work with “new eyes.” So does setting the thing aside for a few days and returning to it afresh. Even changing the font or screen size on the computer helps.
Fourth, I never rely solely on the grammar checker on the word processing application. (Mine thinks "unforgiveable" is a correct spelling, for example.)
Fifth, I read my stuff aurally, so to speak. By that I mean: how something sounds to my “mind’s ear” is important. I “listen” to the words as I read them, and I often read out loud when editing to get the rhythm and emphasis correct. If it sounds awkward to my ear, it likely will be awkward to the reader’s eye as well.
Finally, and perhaps most importantly, we speak to be understood; but we write to make it impossible to be misunderstood. So I always write, edit, and rewrite with attention to how the reader will understand the words, not merely how I intend them. This is especially important for my friend's book. It is based on material he presents in a classroom: he lectures, students discuss, they ask questions, and he clarifies. Before class is over, he makes sure they understand. But with the written word an author has just one bite at the apple. The work has to be perfect from the get-go.  
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Perhaps these thoughts will help those of you who think you have no aptitude for writing.  Like trying to get to Carnegie Hall, all it takes is "practice, practice, practice."

And a good editor. :-)

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*My book will make a great Christmas gift, by the way!  LOL