Some Editors’ Accoutrements of War

by

Charlotte Firbank-King

 



Editors are there to guide and help writers hone their skills and write the best story they can. But is there such a thing as over-editing or bad editing? I think there might be. It’s possible to buckle under the weight of rules and lose heart. This is often how it goes:
First shot fired across the bows—show, don’t tell.

Really? How are newbies supposed to know that and then still grasp the concept? This is followed by a barrage of cannon fire that leaves the newbie’s sweat and blood, ah manuscript, littered with bullet holes—ah, comments and deletions, much like this list:

      These are misplaced modifiers.

      Hey! Put the comma in a compound sentence.

      Use emotions, actions, be creative—don’t constantly use, he said/she said.

      Slow the pace.

      Keep the pace going.

      No shopping lists.

      Watch that POV breach.

      This is a gawking narrator.

      Add more atmosphere.

      Stop with telling the reader every last detail from the sand on a pair of shoes to each painting on a wall.

      Too many adjectives and adverbs, cut ‘em out or at least down to one, maybe two.

      The scenes aren’t rich enough—Flesh them out.

      No passive sentences allowed.

      Stop with all the gerunds.

      Enough already with the clichés.

      Oi! Watch those intensifiers.

      Stop with the redundancies.

The list is long and daunting. It’s like putting running shoes on a baby after their first step, then shoving them on a track and hollering, “Now show me what ya got!” Or a kid writes their first word at school. Time to throw the thesaurus at them. “Right, now sharpen up your prose!”

And the broadside shot, most loved by some editors—toe the line if you want to be published or be a bestseller, usually couched in polite, but veiled threatening terms. It may be a terse: fine, if that’s how you want to write. I’m only here to guide you. But it really means—you will never succeed if you don’t follow the rules!
None of this is bad advice—well, except this last salvo. In fact, rules need to be pointed out (not fired like a volley of bullets) or it wouldn’t be editing.

After the battle, the newbie is a crippled, gibbering wreck, ready to wave the white flag, and their characters are collateral damage in this war to forge a newbie into a James Patterson. The newbie is ready to give up dreams of becoming a writer, never mind the next NY Times bestseller. Has the editor crushed the newbie's fresh, albeit naïve prose? Maybe. But hell, the editor is pleased to see nice crisp writing with not an error in sight and every word, every sentence perfect—or soulless? Maybe even a clone of the editor’s style.

It would behoove editors to remember when they first started writing. I know I was lousy. But like all newbies, my eyes sparkled with enthusiasm and my fingers itched to write one of the million stories churning about in my creative head. The only thing I had was a love of words, but I went forth to conquer with blind gusto.

Then I crashed and burned. Maybe I was delusional and couldn’t write at all. My manuscript was littered with red and comments and deletions crawled over themselves like worms in a can.

Copious tears and rants later—the dog, cat, and parrot have all fled to safety—I pick myself up, dust myself off, wipe my bloodied nose, and forge ahead with grit and determination—I will learn—I will succeed! Despite the editor beating up on me.

First rejection letter. Second and on to the twentieth and then some more rejection letters.

Crash and burn again. This writing gig really hurts.

I think editors often edit their own work into a blubber heap of perfect writing without a pulse.

My own personal rule: write as it comes—usually badly, then cut out the glaring tumors and breathe life into it. I know many editors approach their work like this. They should look at newbies in the same way, and avoid killing the newbie's naïve approach to their story. I mean, it will need major surgery and a full face lift or ten for sure, but take care the story doesn’t morph into the cat-lady with excessive surgery—ah, editing.

On the flipside, I understand the frustrations and obsessive desire to whip a newbie into shape, but stop!

The art of writing well doesn’t happen in a day or even a year—it takes thousand and tens of thousands of words and years, and editors know this.

Maybe it’s time to cut ourselves and the newbies some slack.

Does this mean one shouldn't hire an editor? No! It means a writer should hire a good editor who is sensitive to the writer's voice and doesn't trample on it, and who doesn't overwhelm a new writer with a barrage of rules without giving examples. A good editor will build a relationship with writers, new and seasoned, and they’ll encourage when one is too despondent to continue.

Think Mount Everest and the Sherpas that guide one to the summit. That is what you need in an editor—a Sherpa. Inspiration for Writers will help you find your Sherpa to get you to the top of your Mount Everest. Just give us a call.

The Home Worker's What-Do-I-Do-with-My-Children Blues: A Mini-Guide

by

Debora Holmes

Since my twin boys turned a year old, I’ve been a self-employed writer and editor, except when I’m getting a “normal” paycheck for regularly playing the organ at church. And technically, I’m a single parent, albeit one surrounded by a small but supportive community who is there for me in most pinches (and often in the absence of pinches, yay). Of all the holidays, Mother’s Day is perhaps the most meaningful for me. And this, in turn, reminds me of the cards I received from my then-6-year-old twin boys a couple of Mother’s Days ago.

After sneaking around most of that weekend with their school-made cards behind their backs, Mother’s Day arrived, and Tristan and Tennyson presented me with their works of art. So exciting! Turns out, their first-grade teacher’s card-for-Mom template includes a brief section, “Facts about my Mom,” where the kids fill in the blanks something like this:

What color are your mother’s eyes?  

Both of them have written green. Yep! Correct.

What is your mother’s age?

50, writes one. The other says 25. Ha, dudes. I am neither.

What is your mother’s favorite color?

On this one, I get a pink and I get a blue. So cute.

What does your mother like to do most?

And then, my smile wants very much to fade. The answer they have both given? Work.

Oooh, ouch.

So. In the spirit of love, which one may more freely give when one has MORE TIME to give it, I humbly offer my Mother’s Day gift to you, the reader: tips on how to handle this whole work–family balancing thing, especially if you work from home, and just in time for summer vacation.

Most of these constitute practical tips that also strive to address the emotional turmoil you face every day as you balance work and family in a space that encompasses both.

1.      First off, earplugs are essential. Get a pack of at least a dozen (I like the orange memory-foamish ones made by Mack’s, and they’re cheap). Warn your children that you may unintentionally ignore them and not to take it personally. Also be sure to let them know that you can still hear any fights, whines, and thuds.

2.      Actually consider inviting a (well-mannered) child over so the kid(s) can entertain themselves to some degree (and then you can hopefully get the neighbors to take your children in return). To aid in the self-entertainment part, consider becoming a Legos household, but then of course you must buy thicker slippers.

3.      Yes, the television/Netflix can babysit to some degree. Limit their hours as needed, but don’t punish yourself for allowing a TV marathon to unfold here and there. Personally, in those necessary times, I urge/foist PBS upon them early and often. NOTE: We don’t have an iPad or such, but I understand they can come in handy; however, remember those hours also count as “screen time.”

4.      Provide blankets and boxes for forts that may be built in your children’s bedroom(s) or another place that’s reasonably far from your workspace. On a slightly different note, I have one child who likes paint-by-numbers projects, which can keep him occupied for days. If you have one of those kids who is patient with such things, visit your local hobby store (in all your free time) and discover what wonderful new pastime will a) make her happy PLUS b) keep her occupied.

5.      Regarding constantly asking for milk/other drinks: Learn to live with open cups; your refrigerator air is not full of toxins (and if it is, that’s a whole ‘nother issue). Teach your children how to pour their own milk and juice, preferably out of containers a half-gallon size or less (and over a sink). Remember that, as much as you love your kids, you do them no good by being their waitress.

6.      If your deadlines are absolutely killing you, consider setting out food sources in or out of the fridge (bologna, cheese slices, fruit, crackers, bread, peanut butter, jelly). Grazing is actually good for blood sugar, and six small meals a day may be better for many than three large ones [disclaimer: I’m not a physician].

7.      Answer all “I’m bored” statements with “Okay, I’ll find some work for you to do, then.” Child(ren) will run away; problem will be solved.

8.      Set alarms for yourself on your cell phone or portable clock/watch thingy to ensure that you don’t concentrate so much as to forget to pick your children up from school, etc. (Thanks to our illustrious editor Sandy T. for reminding me of this one, after personal experience taught her well.)

9.      Walk your dog (cat?) once every hour or two. This will provide a needed break for you (experts recommend hourly breaks for workers) and you’ll both be happier and feel more connected. BUT… this blog is about your children, isn’t it? … so see #10.

10.  Of course depending on the size and nature of the dog, if you haven’t already trained your children to do so, get the kids to walk—and feed and water—the pup/cat/lizard/etc. I give my children $1.00 per week to do this, and I add a quarter tip if they don’t complain. (Yes, I know I’m cheap. But whatever.)

11.  Sports or music/drama/dance/etc. practices in your schedule? Me, too. I invested in a new, light laptop with a great battery so I can open and shut the thing on the go. You’ll be surprised at how much you can get done while waiting for practices to end. If you possess an older laptop, go get yourself a new battery; that $100 you spend will pay itself back within a tiny time period.

12.  Ask for help, and always accept offers for help, from anyone (assuming you trust them). My parents are in their eighties, but they will sometimes spontaneously offer to drive or babysit. I say “yes,” except for the days when I scream “yes.”

13.  Forget about your house looking great (yeah, well, even “good” has been out of the question here for years). They won’t be around forever, and when one day they’re out the door, they’ll likely remember the household as a combination of loving and “relaxed,” and you certainly could do worse.

14.  Because it’s the right thing to do, read to your children at least 20 minutes a day. Of course, when they learn to read on their own, it will benefit you timewise (in spades) … as well as them in a thousand ways.

Always, always remember that the best thing you can offer your children is—LOVE. Most of us work because we have to, and even if we love our work, it’s tough to have to choose between paying the mortgage/rent and snuggling/laughing with the babies. Strive for balance. In the nuttiest of times, simply fling out a silly joke on the way to filling up your coffee cup, or locate them quickly for a big hug on one of your many coffee-driven trips to the bathroom.

Tell them you love them, and blow them kiss after kiss … even if across the room.