Words, words, words. That's what we're made of. Herewith some of my thoughts on what we're doing with them.

The other week, I got a bit of reading done at the doctor's office. I don't get too much reading done there – my doctor, bless his heart, is too efficient. He seldom makes me wait long enough to read more than a short story. For that reason, I haven't got back to that novel I started yet. The idea was interesting, but the prose in the first chapter was making me wince more than the thought of the upcoming medical encounter.

I'm not going to say the name of the novel I picked up on the remainder pile, for reasons which will become obvious. It looked intriguing, dealing as it does with short-term time travel and causality. The premise is that a man is accused of the murder of his wife, gets to go back in time, and has a day to save her. Cool plot.

The writer's first task here is to convince us that the main character loves his wife dearly and wouldn't want to hurt her. This is made more difficult by the fact that the last time he saw her, they quarreled. To show his love, the author schedules a hot sex scene early on. In third-person narration, he puts admiring thoughts in his character's head: the guy notices that her breasts are 'firm', her 'long legs tan and lithe', and 'her belly tight with just a hint of a six-pack'.

This, to me, constitutes Too Much Information. When he gets to their 'preternatural lust' for one another, I have only one question in mind:

Where in blazes was his editor?

Editors exist to protect us from ourselves. A good editor would have queried this sort of stuff (even in California). A good editor should also have stopped this writer from the crime he committed a few pages later, when the main character finds his wife's corpse, 'her foot in its yellow Tory Burch shoe sticking out by the back stairs. . . '

No wonder the cops think he killed her. Any man who could remember a ladies' shoe brand (I'm assuming 'Tory Burch' is a shoe brand and not the name of an unindicted co-respondent) at a moment like that is either a) in the fashion business, b) gay (so why is he married to the wrong gender?), or c) nutty as a fruitcake. Someone should have raised this issue before the book went to print.

Editing is a dying art.

I'm not very happy with your paragraphs about the Gregorian and Julian Dates. I get the impression that (a) you don't really understand that bit yourself or (b) even if you do, you don't explain it very clearly.   – Gnomon to Dmitri, 12 July 2011

Why am I quoting Gnomon? Because I doubt he'll try to sue me, and he's one of the most gifted editors I know. His question was absolutely on point. My reply was:

Hi, Gnomon. All praise to you for undertaking the subbing of that particular Rube Goldberg device. That entry grew like kudzu. As with kudzu, there's a shape under there somewhere that may or may not be a house.

I think I understand the calendar business, but I may be completely wrong, as I get confused by Daylight Saving Time. (My misunderstanding may be compounded by my long-time acquaintance with some Russian Orthodox clergy people who lived by the old calendar, and who were forever telling me I didn't know what day it was.)

I would be ever so grateful if you'd try to explain it. Just let me know when you've done it, and I'll take a peek and see if I understand it after that.   – Dmitri to Gnomon, 12 July 2011

I doubt I'll sue me, either. Gnomon proceeded to sort out my problem with explaining the Gregorian Calendar, and we got another Guide Entry. See, that's what a good editor does: serves as an extra pair of eyes for unfinished material. By asking good questions, a good editor helps you make your writing better.

Another editor of mine, a professional, once sent me a note about an exercise I wrote in an online history lesson. She said, 'This exercise is too hard for me to do. When I get the answers wrong, I feel dissed. I don't want to learn.'

I replied, 'Gulp. We don't want teenagers to feel dissed. I will redesign the activity.'

Good editing involves putting yourself in the place of the target reader, figuring out what's going on in that reader's mind, and giving the writer feedback. It might sound like complaining, but it's useful complaining.

What good editing is not:

• Good editing is not mere proofreading. (Although proofreading is always welcome.)
• Good editing is not insisting the writer do it your way. Suggestions welcome, 'my way or the highway', not so much.
• Good editing is not comparing every piece of writing to some imaginary standard. 'This is not up to your usual standard' is not productive criticism, nor is the assumption that there's only one right approach to a subject.
• Good editing is not denigrating to the writer. The idea that it gives the editor a headache trying to think down to the writer's level, if conveyed, is counterproductive to the point of futility. At that point, you simply say, 'Okay, this isn't working. Give me my kill fee, and let's move on.'

What good editing is:

• Good editing is collaborative. Notice how sub-editors get their names on Guide Entries? There's a reason. They're collaborators.
• Good editing is open-ended. Suggestions are helpful. 'Why don't you add a paragraph about X? That topic is interesting.'
• Good editing is encouraging. What every writer loves to see in his 'Track Changes' column are comments like, 'Good point!', or 'Ha ha, that's a great story!' Even better, 'I found this part moving.'

What do we look for in an editor? Someone who encourages our efforts, helps us get where we wanted to go, and makes us feel appreciated. I knew the art was declining back in the late 1970s, when I read one of those door-stop novels by a famous author. The number of grammatical errors and dodgy phrases increased in the last 200 pages. From this I could tell that a) the writer probably didn't stick to his deadline, thus putting the publisher in a rush, and b) the editorial people were sloppy.

You can't pay good editors enough. Publishers probably don't try, and heck, h2g2 doesn't pay any of us. We do it for love. So if you find a good editor, remember to express your profound appreciation.

In case I forgot to say it recently. . . thanks, Gnomon.

PS If you think you have what it takes to be a good editor, contact Lanzababy or Gnomon, or drop by the Guide Editor page. Somebody will put you to work. Now, if you want to work for the Post, just tell me. Once I've recovered from the faint, I'll be glad to discuss the matter.

PPS An hour later: I finished that book. (Speed-reading.) Groan. What a waste of a perfectly wonderful plot idea. Friends don't let friends write sentences like 'Fate is a force of nature.' Seriously. Let's hear it for editors.

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Dmitri Gheorgheni

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