Category Archives: Editing

Nice Job! Not.

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sumi-e

The other day, I was chatting with a new resident at my mother’s retirement community. When I told her (solicited) that I was a writer and editor, her response was nearly explosive—about how ill-suited she would be to such a line of work, due to an auditory learning challenge she shares with her son. I maintain a running, mental list of jobs I would be terrible at myself. Here is a sampling, accompanied by the reason(s) for my inadequacy:

  1. Taxi driver. I get nervous with people in my car, have a terrible sense of direction, and would probably decline to “step on it” if asked. I do, however, drive my husband to and from the airport frequently. His name for this service begins with B and rhymes with Uber.
  2. Roofer. I would look down, get dizzy, and fall off—the first day. Years ago, the twin boys across the street, about six at the time, would play on top of their house—as I watched in horror, wondering if I should call Child Protective Services. Incredibly, they are still alive.
  3. Alaskan king crab fisherperson. I have an intense aversion to drowning, hypothermia, and crippling injuries. The hours are long, cold, wet, and dangerous, whereas I prefer short, mild, dry, and safe.
  4. Restaurant server. I lack the upper-body strength to carry a bunch of plates at once. When I was a girl, I saw a waitress pour a tureen of scalding soup down a patron’s neck. I went on to enjoy my own (delicious split pea) soup, but the incident stayed with me.

This month, I have considered adding a profession to the list: nurse. With my mother in the hospital for four days and in a skilled nursing facility for sixteen (and counting), I have witnessed the dedication of nurses, certified nursing assistants, and nurse’s aides up close. These men and women possess all sorts of demeanors—friendly, businesslike, sweet, funny, comforting, cheerful, encouraging, serious. But universally, they are patient. And hard-working. And flexible, moving ceaselessly from patient to patient, wherever and whenever they are needed.

Thank you to Adam, Alex, Daisy, Feybe, Franklin, Marion, Nicole, Sandra, and Vic, who represent many others.

Write What You Know, Edit What You Don’t

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International Space Station

Earlier this week, I prepared a writing sample for a potential client. To expand a scene involving the International Space Station, I researched the ISS and studied photographs of its interior and exterior. I learned a number of interesting things about it, some of which I incorporated into the text: it’s about food on the ISSas long and wide as a football field, its maximum occupancy is six, the astronauts don’t wear shoes (except when tethered to a treadmill), and food has to be secured to the table so it doesn’t float up.

Speaking of microgravity, an editor can be thought of as hovering above a manuscript, at a distance that allows objectivity. From this perspective, the editor ensures that the content is logical, accurate, and—most importantly—clear to the reader. But what if this Track Changes whiz has no prior knowledge of the subject matter? This scenario is often the case. Otherwise, an editor might wait a long time for a project in his or her wheelhouse—or even general interest—to come along. I have yet to edit a book on cupcakes, romantic comedies, or the eccentricities of Basenjis.

People have asked me how I am able to comment intelligently on an unfamiliar topic. Based on my experience, such ignorance can actually be an asset. Unhampered by what I don’t know, I can easily put myself in the position of the reader. If I encounter material that doesn’t make sense, I know it will probably confuse the reader, as well. Then I educate myself sufficiently to suggest a reworking. In recent years, I have become a temporary expert in such areas as business, history, psychology, self-help, yoga, and surfing.

Here are some basic steps an editor can take to demonstrate ephemeral expertise:

  1. Forget what you know and what you think you know.
  2. Question everything.
  3. Check all facts against multiple reliable sources.
  4. Suggest appropriate changes.
  5. Forget what you learned, to make room for the next topic.

Don’t ask me how editors became temporary experts before Google!