Editors on Editing: What Writers Need to Know About What Editors Do (29 page)

Once I edited a draft manuscript that carefully described, step by step, how to build a deck and a patio and never defined either or told the difference between the two. Recently an article on the front page of the
New York Times
was headlined 10
OF
12 [
SOVIET REPUBLICS] PLEDGE SUPPORT [FOR AN ECONOMIC UNION
] but did not mention the names of either the ten supporting republics or the two opposing ones. Again these are examples writ small. The manuscript editor can be faced with similar omissions spread over the course of a 150,000-word book and must train himself to ask, as he turns each page, “Has anything necessary or important been left out? Has the author covered the most recent developments in the field?”

There is, of course, the other side of the coin—too
much
information. Writing is a selective process in which the author chooses from a mass of material that which best creates the story, whether fiction or nonfiction. However, in gathering material, the author sometimes gets too close to it and cannot part with a scrap. At this point the editor must step in and gently prune so that the reader will not be lost in a thicket of information. This is not to advocate a Bauhaus severity. Obviously there is room for an aside, for a bit of colorful if not vital information, for a graceful description or a humorous allusion, but the reader should not have to track through all the writer’s undigested thoughts and research. One editor tells of a striking set piece in a novel he was working on, a jewel that sparkled but distracted rather than illuminated. In the original draft it appeared in the opening chapter. Out of place there, it was moved, at the editor’s suggestion, to a later chapter. With each draft the scene shifted to a yet later chapter, until at last both editor and author decided to save it for the next book. What is important in every book is the information needed to complete it or the narrative thrust to keep it moving, not every piece of information, no matter how fascinating, or every beautifully crafted passage.

Two other factors have to be taken into consideration in considering the content of a book: accuracy and balance. The editor must continually test and question what he is reading. Is it complete? Up-to-date? Correct? Does it make sense? Depending on the type of book the editor is working on—textbook, novel, biography, gardening manual, scientific survey—he will have to decide whether he has sufficient knowledge of the subject or whether the book should be vetted by an expert reader. Accuracy is important for fiction as well as nonfiction. Editors of gritty mysteries keep city maps on hand to be sure the detective can zip from one street to another without bogging down in one-way traffic.

Balance also requires concentration, again because imbalance is more likely to be caused by omission than by commission. In a recent collection of firsthand accounts of the Civil War, the anthologist selected memorable pieces that caught the editor up in their power. However, once the editor
separated himself from the emotional impact of the proposed selections, he saw that the book heavily favored Southern writers, that there was no mention of black troops, that there was scant attention paid to the home front. Thus the book did not truly portray the impact of the war on the United States, as it purported to; it was necessary to add new entries and delete some repetitious ones to achieve that.

Not only does the editor need to check for complete, accurate, and balanced information, he must also ensure that the information is presented in a way that can be followed.

As he reads through the manuscript, the editor must be certain that he can always follow the author’s train of thought and that he has been told everything he needs to know to be where he is or do what he is doing. An editor tells of working on a gardening manual with detailed instructions for fertilizing and for killing weeds. The last sentence of the lengthy section read: “Be extremely careful in handling these chemicals, for they are poisonous; in fact, it is wise to wear gloves when fertilizing or weeding.” As the editor pointed out, it might be a little late for the careless gardener by the time he or she found this out.

There are two helpful tools for reorganizing mixed-up manuscripts: the signpost sentence and the outline.

The editor should always be on the lookout for signpost sentences, sentences that clearly state or reveal the author’s intent or direction. Frequently these sentences appear toward the end of sections, as summaries, rather than near the beginning, where they could function as topic sentences that shape the material that follows. When the editor comes across such a sentence, he should use it to the fullest advantage, moving it to where it orders a disorderly passage and guides the reader through the text. Here is an example:

Working together is hard. An assistant once remarked that until he worked at a publishing house, he had no idea of how badly authors were treated, almost as if they were pests that had to be tolerated if a house had to publish books. It is the editor’s primary job, in the demanding process of publishing a book, to maintain a good working relationship.

This is a paragraph that, reworked, appears on page 161 in what I hope is much clearer form. Note that in the original draft, the main idea of the paragraph came at the end, leaving the reader to wonder about the meaning of the paragraph until he came to the end of it.

Another good way to get at poor organization is to strip away the words and go straight to the structure: Outline the material, whether it is an entire book whose chapters follow one another willy-nilly or a single muddled chapter. Occasionally I have had to go through a chapter paragraph by paragraph, noting the subject of each one in the margin; once that was done, I photocopied the original and cut the copy apart, clipping all the paragraphs on the same subject together and then reorganizing the paragraphs. This method is for extreme cases, however, and should not be necessary in the normal course of manuscript editing. A simple outline usually reveals repetition, omission, and poor organization and is an excellent base from which the author can rework the material.

Bad organization can sometimes be fixed with a bold stroke. An editor was working on a rather well-written history of the Vatican. The book opened with an excellent guided tour through the buildings, then it stalled in the second chapter, which was a chronology of popes. The editor fiddled and diddled, trying to make the chapter readable, to no avail. Whatever he did, the chapter remained a catalog, a barrier to the progress of the book. The information was clearly necessary to the book as reference material, but there was no need for it to interrupt the unfolding of Vatican history. The editor picked up the entire chapter and made it an appendix, where a list of factual biographies posed no problem.

Very few books, despite what their authors hope and believe, will interest everyone. The editor must help the author recognize the readers who will be most interested in the book and address them, whether they are the author’s fellow professionals, readers coming to the subject for the first time, or highly knowledgeable amateurs.

Recently a psychiatrist who had usually addressed herself to a professional readership wrote a book for a general audience. Her editor pointed out several ways in which the text had to be reworked. First, the author was warned that general readers might not be familiar with all the terms and concepts that professionals would readily understand; this meant eliminating jargon and glossing necessary technical language. Second, the editor suggested grouping most of the research data and discussion of source material in appendixes at the back of the book where they could provide the scholarly foundation necessary for the book’s arguments but not weigh them down; readers could consult the appendixes if they wanted to. Footnotes were used only for direct quotations. Third, the editor lightened the character of the book, making it more informal by eliminating summaries at the end of chapters and illustrating points with a few striking examples
rather than numerous case studies couched in psychiatric terminology.

Most authors do not have to shift gears so dramatically from book to book, but editors and authors should always be aware of the reader at the other side of the book and know his level of sophistication. This is brought home to me very clearly whenever I use a relatively straightforward recipe for brownies as a teaching exercise. Any student with some kitchen experience goes right through the recipe, but there are always a few kitchen-shy students who stumble over the opening instruction: “In a medium saucepan…”

Thus far we have covered what I would call the editor’s first reading, or assessment, of the manuscript, which by and large takes place before the editor puts pencil to paper. This does not mean that editors read all manuscripts through twice. I do think, however, that editors read all manuscripts at two levels. The first reading is this assessment, in which the editor views the manuscript from some distance, scanning it for the large-scale issues of clarity and so on. The second reading is the working level, in which the editor gets down to the manuscript and frames the work he will draw out of the author.

In this demanding process it is the editor’s job to maintain a good working relationship with the author. An editorial assistant once remarked that until he worked at a publishing house, he had no idea how badly authors were treated; it was almost as if they were mere pests who had to be tolerated if the house were to continue publishing books. But if the editor keeps the author informed, analyzes the editorial issues considerately, and queries the author with care, it is possible to avoid an adversarial situation in which the author or the editor or both see themselves as losers in a contest for the book. It is, after all, the goal of both to publish the best book possible, and with this in mind the editor works gently but firmly.

A meeting just before you begin editing is one of the best ways to let the author know how the editing will proceed, especially if you have not already met. Obviously, a meeting is not always possible, and a letter or phone call may have to substitute, but the effort should be made.

The purpose of the meeting—and it can be lunch if you want a relaxed atmosphere—is to explain to the author what to expect from you as an editor and from your publishing house. You should explain the difference
between editing and copy editing and tell the author at what stage the manuscript will be sent back to her; how much editing you think the manuscript will need; whether any additions are necessary—bibliography, list of sources, glossary. You can also give the author some idea of schedule—how long each stage will take and how much time she will have to turn the material around. The author will get good basic working information, and you will have a chance to judge how the author will respond to editing, valuable knowledge when you are about to spend a good deal of time on the manuscript.

Even after laying out the basics, you should proceed with some caution. Unless you are absolutely confident that the author will agree to all your suggestions, it is wise to edit the first chapter, or perhaps two, and send it to the author, complete with a cover letter. Then put the manuscript aside and give the author two to three weeks to go over the edited chapter and send it back. When the author returns the manuscript, you will see immediately how much editing the author is open to. This will be your guide not only to further editing but also to ranking by order of importance.

A few preliminaries about editorial marking are in order before the editor goes to work on the manuscript. Some of these notes sound like a kindergarten lesson, but the editor will be writing all over the manuscript and should keep in mind how this will look to the author. Messiness in these basics can get the editorial process off to a bad start.

In general the manuscript editor uses a black lead pencil, typically a No. 2, and queries in the margins. Stick-on flags are usually reserved for copy editors. Write clearly and firmly; many editors make tentative squiggles, so it is hard for the author to read their comments and queries. If you are editing, do it; do not underscore your doubts with lightly penciled jottings. Edit concisely, using the margin for your notes. The fewer marks you make, the easier it is for the author to follow your comments and, as a corollary, sympathize with and understand them. If a comment is too long for a marginal notation, save it for the cover letter.

If you want to try an exercise in editor-author relations, mail a marked-up manuscript, preferably one that has been edited in red pencil, to yourself to see how it would look to an author anticipating his first batch of manuscript from his publisher. “A bloody rag” was one editor’s reaction.

Never paste over the author’s original. If you must substantially revise a paragraph or two, type them on a separate sheet for the author’s consideration.

Always retain a file copy of the manuscript. By contract the author is
required to submit two copies, so the second becomes the file copy. Sometimes someone in the house needs this; keep track of it or copy it. By the same token, most houses copy the edited manuscript before it goes to the author; not only does this offer insurance against loss, it also provides a copy for both editor and author should there be a phone consultation.

Preliminaries covered, we can move on to substantive editing. As should be clear by now, the issues that the editor addresses, his suggestions for changes and revision, are necessary for the success of the book; “sounds better” is rarely justification for an editorial change. Because the author has the final say on all changes that are not actual errors—facts, grammar, spelling—the editor must state the case for his suggestions convincingly. This requires analysis of the editorial issues as well as of the author’s willingness to accept editing.