Let’s Talk Process: Listening to Your Editor

I’ve been writing for some time now, with intent to publish for the last five to seven years.  I did not have an editor on Shaman.  Beta readers yes, friends and relatives yes, but not a formal, paid editor.  There were reasons I could enumerate here but regardless, as proud as I am of my first publication, it definitely could have used that extra-critical, extra-fastidious eye.

image via savagechicken.com

Hero Handlers is a much stronger book for having been in Jenny Melzer’s hands twice prior being paraded before the world in all its very minimal glory.  As will all my future books because I will never put something out without an editor ever, ever again and I intend for Jenny to be that editor as long as she will have me.

Needless to say, there was no way my sample chapters for the Nerdist novel contest were going anywhere near anyone else’s eyes without her discerning gaze having first ripped them to shreds and her recommendations as to how I might stitch them back together in some semblance of decent.

image via offthemark.com

Said chapters are from my second (we’re going to, henceforth, leave Shaman out of the count) novel Chaos, which I intend (fingers, toes, and all other noodly appendages crossed) to release on Halloween in a joint event with R.J. Keith’s Into The Oven.  Jenny did a first past edit a couple of weeks ago in which she picked up on everything (literally.  It’s like she has a boom tube into my brain) that was irking, worrying, or otherwise gut-roiling me about that first draft plus some other things I hadn’t considered but should have.  She made some excellent suggestions on how I might correct said glaring monstrosities.  Because I listen to her (as everyone should their editor – if for no other reason than you are paying her to do this thing but also because it is highly likely she is correct) I tried to incorporate her suggestions into the two chapters I was polishing (read: rewriting completely from first word to last) to submit as samples for the contest.  The contest everyone was telling me I should enter.  The contest I had finally psyched myself up to enter.  The contest of the sort I have previously decided not to enter because there is no possible way I could win (side note: I still don’t think I can win but that, in my minimally developed ego-verse, is no longer the point).  I was excited.  I was proud.  I was a bunch of other things that I’m usually not as regards my own work.

I sent the chapters to Jenny.

She sent back great notes.  Excellent notes and suggestions and some very legit concerns.

And reality intruded on my cute, sparkly little bubble.

image via cartoonstock.com

Technically, the contest doesn’t close until September 30th but the winners will be chosen based on number of pre-orders between August 15th and September 30th, thus, entering late is a major disadvantage.

If I was going to do the thing, I needed to do it post-haste.  Post-haste being two weeks ago but by Monday at the latest.

I can do this, I thought.  I have the rest of this week and the weekend.  Even though we have company and I work a 12 hour shift on Friday and a late 8 on Saturday and we have a baseball game Sunday afternoon with the kids, I can totally do this.

Right??!!

There would be some major sacrifices of sleep, time with children, sleep, reading, and sleep.

Have I mentioned the sleep?  With which I have a tenuous relationship to begin?

So I messaged Jenny and I asked, straight up, “Is there enough here to do the thing by Monday?”

Her honest, unbiased, and professional opinion, and she said this as not only my editor, but as one of my life-Musketeers, “No.”

Ouch.

image via savagechicken.com

It didn’t hurt because she thinks the chapters need work.  It’s her job to tell me that.  It didn’t hurt because she’s my friend and I want her to like what I’ve written; my work is vastly improved since we began both our informal, and professional partnership.  It hurt because I was finally going to do the thing and now I am not going to do the thing.

The chapters aren’t ready and they won’t be ready in a timely enough fashion to balance out the difficulties in making it so.  I sacrifice plenty for my art (have I mentioned the sleep) but there is a limit.  There has to be.  There would be even if writing was my full-time job.

I don’t like limits.  They’re annoying and they get stuck in my teeth.

My inherent dislike of limits doesn’t make Jenny any less right, however.

And lo, my editor has saved my ass.  Again.

Moral of the story: listen to your editor.

You may not always agree.  If you don’t, open a dialogue and find out why she thinks what she does.  You may still not agree.  That is your prerogative as creator.

But if you’re going to be a pig-headed, ego-driven buttmunch, don’t waste her time.

Listen to your editor.  The ratio of times you should do what she says: 9/10 in favor.

The ratio of times you should listen well and consider carefully: 10/10

The ratio of times you should crawl up your own ass and ignore what she says: 0/10.

Listen to your editor.

Thus endeth the lesson.

image via inklygirl.com