editors

How should a writer deal with editors?

(Originally published on my LiveJournal.)

I was indulging in a spot of elephant-boxing* with an editor chum about writing, and he said, "You think writers get all the garbage? Let me tell you..."

Well, no, I don't think writers get the messy end of the brush every time. Not at all. I've edited non-fiction, so I know how irksome writers can be. So, in the interests of balance, I knocked up a list of dos and don'ts when dealing with editors. They were compiled with the help of Editor Chum, my own bitter memories and a few anonymous contributors.

None of this is rocket science - nothing in writing is - but as it gets ignored every day perhaps it looks too simplistic. Trust me: it's true. I pass it on for what it's worth, and if it seems brutal in places, my apologies. (And remember it applies as much to non-fiction as it does to fiction.)

* Elephant boxing - no pachyderms were harmed in this activity. It's competitive anecdotes - if you've got an elephant, the elephant boxer will have a box to put it in. The police equivalent of the navy's black-catting.

I'm told that being editor-centred is all very well as long as you have a good editor. As in any other walk of life, some editors will not be saints or geniuses, and some will even flout the rules of engagement they expect writers to obey. But most are nice, competent, normal human beings who are drawing their salaries because they have a pretty shrewd idea of what works. And - let's be pragmatic - they're in front of you and they're paid for. As Voltaire said, this is no time to make new enemies. And even if one failing won't trash your career, being a writer that editors like to work with pays dividends in the long run.

So, how not to be the Writer from Hell. Hint: number 4 really is the big one.

1. Get their name right.

This is just good manners. It doesn't take much effort to find out who you ought to be submitting your work to, and how they spell their name, but people still don't do it. Everyone likes their name spelled right. And if you're not capable of finding out basic information, it says bad things about your competence and commitment at a subconscious level.

From an editor: "I don't bat an eye when I reject something addressed to Dear Editor, or To Whom It May Concern. If they can't figure out who I am - my name and title is on the web site - then they're not smart enough to survive."

Ouch. That editor rejects 99 out of every 100 manuscripts. It's not an unusual rate.

2. Learn to use your tools.

I don't want to put copyeditors out of a job, but let's try to meet them halfway - learn to spell and punctuate to a reasonable standard, or use a spellchecker (virtual or human) that can. Personally, this one infuriates me: only five year olds can get away with being charmingly creative and badly-spelled. If you've come through the education system and you don't have genuine literacy problems - and some authors have been best-sellers despite those - then you don't have an excuse.

There will always be small detail and debates over whether this word or that is acceptable in the Chicago Manual of Style or Webster's Collegiate. But general gross sloppiness is never a gray area. You tie up editing time and you're sending out a signal that you're unprofessional.

3. Turn in a mansucript that's easy to read.

Editors see a lot of manuscripts. They also do most of their MS reading in their spare time, bless them, and they're not paid a lot in the first place. If you had to tackle a pile of MSS that were high enough to be a table, what would you want them to look like? Nice and clean and legible, in the standard style, or in 8pt ornate font, single spaced, and generally a pain to read?

Make the editor's life easier and turn in clean-looking, physically readable copy. Put an editor in the right frame of mind before they start reading what you've written. It's just good manners. You might think your work is so good that editors will overlook font and clarity, but why risk it? The vast majority of MSS end up rejected, so remove as many reasons to dump your work as you can.

4. Deadlines matter. And this carries 50% of the marks - maybe 75% - so if you only follow one piece of advice, make it this one.

Fiction editors might not rip your head off if you miss deadlines (unlike news editors) but whatever your excuse or genuine reason, you're a pain in the arse if your work is late. Other people are waiting on your work to show up so they can get on with the production process, and that might also impact other writers, and it might even cost serious money.

It's basic courtesy and professionalism to turn in work on time. If you want to write for money, then accept the disciplines and don't commit to deadlines you can't meet. Nobody held a gun to your head and made you submit a novel (or short, or feature, or whatever): so it's up to you to behave like a pro.

Okay, stuff happens that conspires against you. That's unfortunate, but it's your problem. Journalists who miss deadlines end up unemployed, so we tend to treat them as sacred, and - as one editor chum put it - if our house was on fire, we'd meet a deadline before we put that fire out. So don't get a reputation as a flakey, disorganised writer: it might cost you dearly one day.

Missing deadlines without warning is even worse, because it's rude and unforgivably sloppy. If you have a crisis you simply can't work around, then let your editor know as soon as you have the first inkling that the schedule might slip.

5. When an editor asks you for a response, do it now.

Now that the majority of editor-writer interaction can take place by e-mail, there's no reason why you can't answer right away. Okay, some editors spring things on you, but there's no harm at the outset in asking them when they anticipate getting revisions/ comments/ copyedits back to you and letting them know about constraints on your schedule.

But there's no excuse for sitting on approvals or questions for a few days, and certainly not a few weeks. You're not the only person in this process. You're holding things up. Turn round stuff fast, and editors (and everyone else in the production process) will love you for it.

Oh, and be easy to contact. Nothing is more annoying than someone who contacts you and then you can't get back to them because they've set up or defaulted their spam filter or whatever to bounce you. I know of at least one would-be author who now won't be one any time soon because an editor couldn't contact him.

6. Don't hassle them - especially about things they don't have control over.

Editors aren't sitting around filing their nails or perfecting their golf swing. They're busy. A polite enquiry is one thing, but getting on their case won't help you - even if you're in the right and they really have held on to something a lot longer than they said they would. Of course, if you're someone who makes sure you get stuff done on time, then you at least have some moral high ground, even though it would be churlish to exploit that.

Now, this next bit really grips my editor chum something chronic. By all means suggest - once - what might be a great image for the cover, but then shut up about it: and don't get into fights about titles. The purpose of both cover and title is packaging - to sell the book. And don't ask for a lot of PR support and book tours, because you won't get it. Have realistic expectations: your editor can't change the economic reality of publishing, and bleating to them about it just puts pressure on someone who can't yield. None of us enjoys being put in that position.

7. Be courteous.

Please and thank you go a long way. Publishing is always a buyers' market, so don't cut your own throat by being an ill-mannered jerk. A couple of tips from the world of public relations: they might not remember what you said, but they'll always remember how you made them feel - and never demand as a right what you can ask for as a favour. (The latter was a wonderful insight from Maggie Burton, an excellent production assistant who I worked with in my TV days.)

A herogram to the editor's boss - via you or your agent - when you're particularly happy is nice. They have career aspirations too, remember. But don't overdo the chummy bit: bombarding your editor with non-work mail is more than they have time for. If you develop a social friendship with them in time, all well and good, but they're your editor, not your best mate.

8. Listen to an editor's advice.

No writer knows it all, even though some really do believe they need no editor. Wood and trees, folks: you can be too close to a book. (And if you're writing for the hard old non-fiction world of newspapers and magazines, the editor isn't even going to ask you - they'll edit, full stop. Get over it.) If you care about writing exactly what you want more than selling books - and I admit there's a valid case for this - then commercial fiction might not be the best outlet for your writing.

Fiction editors know their field and they see your book cold. If something strikes them as being worth a comment, listen to it, because the chances are that they'll spot what readers will spot. You can always decline the suggestion, but they're not saying it to keep themselves busy: they have a point, and their motive is to get the best possible book on the shelves and sell it by the shitload. They're not trying to crimp your literary genius or dumb you down.

I know there are people who think their editor's judgement is flawed. I don't know how to advise on that, other than to stet the bits they suggest you change and see what happens. All I know is that the fiction editors I work with are very sparing in their comments and I bloody well listen.

There. My karma feels better already.