So I'm in a garage, underneath a car and working on an engine. I reach for a torque wrench, can't find it. I ask you for one. You give me a regular old wrench because the torque wrench isn't what I need. I rush out from beneath the car and bellow at you for patronising me. How dare you tell me what tools to use?
You blink at me, wonder why I’m all upset, know for a fact that a torque wrench will likely bust the nut I’m intending to tighten, because a torque wrench isn’t what is needed for that nut. It’s a basic fact of car fix-it. Why am I all hyped up when all you did was help me out?
What has this to do with writing?
I’ll tell you. Words are tools. They are governed by their own laws, physics for syntax. Grammar, in other words. The better sorts of word engineers know their shortcuts, know when a rule can bend, but there are these other engineers, the ones who think they know, the ones that pull a snit when they are shown they don't.
The ones that think they know give you hell when you discuss basics. The building is about to collapse or the car is about to drop the engine out the bottom, but this sort of person isn’t interested in that “minor” detail. He’s insulted because you didn’t hand him the fancy torque wrench. He’s insulted because you told him the nails in his building are missing or rusted. He’s pissed because a gaping hole in one side of the ship is letting in water. Doesn’t the rest of the ship look perfect enough to cover the gap?
The story, if it were a boat, is about to sink. The car won’t run. The building will be a crumbling ruin after the first reviewer stomps through on inspection.
If an editor isn’t going to tell you how it is, who will? Why do writers think that because they are a form of artist, the tools of the trade don’t require the same amount of thoughtful discussion as a building plan?
Hey, are you wondering why I’m blogging this in particular? Because I’ve been stupid. Yep. Stupid. I pulled a snit three years or more back. I apologized after, but some people hold grudges. I learned from that.
Don’t pull a snit. Don’t hold a grudge. I decided, after learning from my snit, I definitely didn’t want to be like the people that hold a grudge. Grudge people, they must think they’re perfect, never made a mistake in the past, never will make one in the future.
Poor things. Recipe for miserable. Think you’re perfect, screw up and try to cover your tracks. Easier to apologize, toss your grudges, stop pulling snits. Tracks can't be covered. Not really, not on the internet. Get accustomed to being permanently embarrased, or learn from it, shrug it off, move on.
Back to writing. Treat the tools of the trade as what they are: tools. Logical discussion works. Ranting won’t.
But what’s this have to do with now? I’m an editor now. And I’ve seen snits. Boy, I’ve seen snits. Whoppers. Designed to make a person feel really miserable. Designed to drill a hole straight to the core and tear out the soul of the miserable evil, stupid editor that said the truth. Stupid editor. No editor should say the truth. Words are not tools. They’re purely art and subject to the fancies of the artist, and plot holes exist to make a reader appreciate nuances of…
Hell, no.
Sorry, but this editor will tell the truth. If the plot hole sinks the boat, it sinks the boat. If the grammar rules were bent such that the craftsmanship failed, then the craftsmanship failed. The building is collapsing, I intend to tell the author, because you know what? I care how it turns out. I care, and this means I have to be honest. I’m not interested in the author’s short-term gratification. It’s the long haul that interests me. Will the boat float for years? Will it? If a reviewer can destroy the structure with a few paragraphs of scoffing, then I haven’t done my job. And I care that I’ve done my job.
What should you expect from a decent editor?
The truth. Logical discussion of plot and grammatical structure. If you aren’t prepared for that, you shouldn’t be submitting your story to a publisher yet. Go back to the crit group and get massacred until you can tell the difference between fawning, destructive criticism, or real help.
I don't care how long you've been writing. I don't. I care about what I see in the manuscript before me. The manuscript is the only proof you can give me that you know anything about the tools of the trade. If you understand I've been assigned to assist with the craftsmanship, then we'll get on fine. You're still the keeper of the overall design; I'm just there to make certain all the support structures are in place. Building inspection is a must. No decent engineer would go without a building inspector, so don't think you should do the same for a manuscript. Whatever the craft, an inspector is a must for longterm success. |
