How Other People Edited My Novel
From author Lydia Netzer, whose first novel, Shine Shine Shine, is forthcoming from St. Martin’s Press in summer of 2012:
I spent over ten years writing my novel. There was a lot of self-editing that happened during those ten years. From tweaking sentences to throwing out chapters and even whole drafts, I edited pretty constantly as I went along. I edited based on my own opinions, and based on suggestions from my critique group. I edited when Susannah told me on an early draft, “No, this isn’t right. You haven’t got it yet.”
. . . .
Lots of people have asked me how much influence my agent and editor had on my book, and if that bothered or upset me. The answer is that they had a lot of influence, and all of it was good in the end, and none of it ultimately bothered me. There were changes that made me hesitate, and some that I thought might be impossible. I had decided that I was not going to be some sort of annoying prima donna. I told myself that I was going to be a good girl and not argue, and that I would take every suggestion and try and make it work in the book. There was only one suggestion that I could not find a way to do. All the rest of them made the book better, I strongly feel. So when I look at the book I don’t see my darling book underneath the mean changes and ugly edits forced on me by other people. I see a book that’s so much better than it was a year ago, I hardly recognize it.
. . . .
Beautiful agent wrote the pitch letter (It’s like Eat, Pray, Love, but in SPACE!!!) and compiled a list of editors. On April 26, she started pitching it, and in a couple of weeks we had a deal. And an editor. You may notice that the word “edit” is prominently featured in the title “editor.” Unsurprisingly, my adorable editor had a list of things she wanted tweaked and twirled in the book. One character was to have a much larger role. One subplot was to get a much more complete treatment. We talked about the edits on the phone, and I pondered and toiled over them in the manuscript.
. . . .
No novel falls perfectly from a writer’s head. Mine has maybe been through more changes and permutations than most. But when the cover goes on and the pages get numbered and the release date finally comes, there aren’t going to be any more chances to fix it. This is my chance to make the book as perfect as possible, and I’m taking every opportunity I get.
Link to the rest at Lydia Netzer
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I guess, after reading her article, my question is this – Is this still her novel? Or is it the result of a group think-tank sort of effort for which the author provided the original concept?
“So when I look at the book I don’t see my darling book underneath the mean changes and ugly edits forced on me by other people. I see a book that’s so much better than it was a year ago, I hardly recognize it.”
Mean and ugly changes or excellent changes – either – is it still her book? That’s the heart of the matter. Is it awful to ask that question? The answer is important.
The implication being that one can spend ten years on a book and still not recognize the final product as one’s own. In addition, if the book required so many edits that it is no longer recognizable, how is it that St. Martin’s bought it? What attracted the publisher to the book in the first place?
I’m not trying to be rude, no malice intended. I’m trying to understand.
When I read my books – the final products – they are uniquely my own. I recognize the stories as mine. Which begs the question – is this why I haven’t sold to St. Martin’s?
Julia – I had some of the same responses.
Along with writing, I also edit. One of the most difficult things about editing is to keep in mind first and foremost, this is not my book. It is not my job to rewrite or to guide a writer into doing things my way. I might point out stylistic quirks I feel detract from a story, but unless they are truly obnoxious, I don’t insist they be changed. Usually I’ll say, “This is the impression I’m getting, is that the impression you meant to give?” Sometimes the answer is yes and that’s my cue to back off. When I’m working with a “young” writer, especially if they don’t have much confidence, I have to be especially careful they don’t start writing to please me. I feel for the writer in the blog post. Nobody should end up with a book they don’t recognize. Certainly nobody should feel grateful for it.
I don’t think she means “I don’t recognize it” in a bad way. At least that’s not what I’m getting from the tone of the piece. More like what you’d say to your son or daughter after they get all dressed up for the prom.
I had the same questions as Julia and PG. Making alterations to better a story, make it more polished, is one thing. Changing the overall product of your voice and your unique storytelling until it is no longer recognizable to you as your original work, is another. I recently learned that, for me, doing so is the surest way to send my muse into exile. The first and only time I let others evaluations mean more than my own, I lost my belief in myself and my writing (they’re the same, after all), and it took me more than three years to get my muse back. Never going there again, and if that makes me less successful financially, so be it. When I look in the mirror at the end of my life I want to know that the writing I did measured up in to my own standards, and that I was true to myself, regardless of what anyone else thought. If others enjoyed it too, wonderful.
No malice of any kind intended, and congrats to the writer for getting her book out, but 10 years is a really long time. Like 4 books a year times 10 years = 40 books long. Unless your last name is Martin, I guess.
I’m a bit surprised that the reactions thus far have been so negative. There are certainly instances in traditional publishing in which the publisher changes the book in a way the author didn’t want to, but to me at least, this doesn’t seem like the case in this blog entry. The author said at several points that she was very happy with the way the changes turned out, and that the book, although different, is stronger, in her opinion. I sense an underlying assumption from most commenters here that the author is either lying about her final opinion or brainwashed. Personally, I’m more inclined to give the author the benefit of the doubt and read this as an example of a successful editing process. *shrug*
Livia – We won’t really know how the edits worked out until the book is published.
I heard the voice of experience in some of the comments reflecting disastrous changes publishers had forced into prior books.
PG — Even when the book is published, we still probably won’t know. It’s a subjective business. There are runaway bestsellers that get ripped apart for their writing and editing, and other books that the author feels is written very well, but never gain an audience. The judgment of success will depend on how you define it.
I’m all for the voice of experience, although I do wonder how applicable one writer’s revision experience would be to that of another, especially if the writers in question don’t know each other, have never read each other’s work, and have never worked with the same editor. I’m not denying that there are horror stories in traditional publishing. I think what bothers me here is that I perceive people projecting the stereotype of “poor, traditional, house-slave writer who obviously can’t decide what’s best for her own writing.” Which may indeed be true — who knows? But it seems to me at least that automatically assuming that a writer isn’t smart enough to tell which changes are good or bad is just as dangerous as the “writers are too stupid to worry their pretty little head about business” attitude that indie authors accuse publishers and agents of having.
Hmm, I see this comment has gone rather longer than I intended. I don’t mean to make a big deal out of a small thing, and you know of course, PG, that I’m actualy rather pro indie myself. Please forgive my rambling.
Good point, as usual, Livia. We don’t really have enough data to know and probably never will unless the author shares after a few years of perspective.
I pondered Livia’s comments because she made good points and made me question whether I suffered a gut reaction to the original post and spouted without thinking. Her saying, “Even when the book is published, we still probably won’t know…” jumped out at me. Because, yes, quite often I do know. Genre fiction is my passion. Writing it and reading it. I read a lot of it. I see a lot of fiction that’s been heavily processed to the point where it has all the flavor and texture of processed American cheese. The author’s voice disappears. The style is homogenized to fit with the editor’s idea of what the readers want.
Can I tell when a book’s been over-edited? Yes. The prose is flat, technically perfect, but bland. The plot is formulaic and predictable. It’s politically correct and designed to never offend. It’s forgettable. There is nothing to zoom in on and say, “That is what’s wrong,” because all the “problems” have been fixed. There’s nothing that sticks with the readers except the vague sense they’ve read something and it was okay while it lasted, but meh, whatever.
What got to me in reading the original post was the writer’s utter lack of confidence. How does one build confidence in a writer? It’s not by doing for them. It’s not by “fixing” their stuff. It’s by leaving them alone to write a few million words until they find their voice and rhythm. It’s by letting them fall on their faces a few thousand times, and saying, “Good job. You won’t make that mistake again.” You wait for them to get to the point where they are fighting back and coming up with damned good reasons for doing what they do. Then their goal becomes not for you to love them and think of them approvingly as a good child worthy of a gold star, but because they know where they want to go with their writing and can you cough up a few pointers to help them to get there?
The original poster spent ten years writing her novel, clutching the hands of critique partners all the way. When she found an editor, she latched on there. She sounds so grateful for the attention, it’s heart-breaking to read. The real question is, okay, her book is being published — Yay hooray — but how long is it going to take her to write the next? Can she do it without someone holding her hand and assuring her all the way? Does she have the confidence to spill the good stuff, the true stuff onto the page?
When my kids were young, and my hubby was being too protective, too helpful in fixing all their mistakes, I’d remind him, “We’re not trying to raise good children, dear. We’re trying to raise functioning adults.”
I knew many editors who see themselves as parents and writers as children. They are very proud when their “children” are doing everything just the way mommy likes it.
JW — It sounds like you have a healthy idea of what editing should and should not be. Your writers are in good hands
Livia and JW, let me quote from a blog post I just wrote regarding a contest and an unpublished author I judged:
“So, on to Blue Jeans and Stilettos! A baby bird has flown the nest. I first met Jordyn Meryl, author of When Dreams Change, when I judged her work in a writing contest. Honest to god, I don’t know the outcome of the contest, I was more interested in the entries I judged. Jordyn’s submission stood out. It really stuck to me – not because I found her story ready for publication, it wasn’t quite ready yet, but because she’s a dang good storyteller.
If I remember correctly, I judged six entries. Of the six, five were pretty close to perfect – perfect spelling, punctuation and grammar. Each theme was the perfect theme of the moment, and yet none of those close to perfect five held my interest. Jordyn’s simple jewel of a story about a widowed teacher, hurting and alone, dipping her lukewarm feet back into the dating pool and meeting somebody completely unexpected, captured my interest and stole my heart. I was so enamored of her little romance that I emailed her.”
Jordyn’s romance was far from perfect, but I heard her voice loud and clear. Every other voice sounded generic. I don’t remember a word they wrote, but I remember Jordyn’s entire story.
I read in all genres, not so much now in the genre I write because I don’t want to be derivative, but should you happen to stumble upon my paranormal, Incorporeal, I’ve included a conversation I had with a real life publisher under real life circumstances who told me flat out that successful authors must become like McDonald’s – they must make the same cheeseburger over and over again. I cannot imagine, let me repeat, cannot imagine doing that.
Authors who do make that same cheeseburger over and over again, bore me to tears after one book. Are readers really that into formulaic romance, where the only differences are character names?
My original comment was not meant to be negative. I really want answers to those questions. You’re right, we may never know the extent to which the original submission differs from the final product. But I’d still like to know this – if a submission needs a complete makeover, why was the book picked up in the first place? Did the publisher fall in love with the concept and sign the author on the dotted line before realizing how many edits would be necessary? Or did the publisher want a cheeseburger?
Ten years is an awful long time to work on one book – unless you are George R.R. Martin. An awful long time. Her book, Shine Shine Shine, appears to be a work of literary fiction.
Ten years is a long time even if you are George R.R. Martin– there are now websites devoted to flaming him for being slow and arrogant to his readers.
If I were to spend ten years crafting my masterpiece, I’d do it in private. That’s called a hobby, and there’s nothing wrong with it. Once I submit it to an editor, though, it’s a declaration that my book is READY, and I want it to go to press and make money. I can’t figure out why an editor would get excited enough about a book to offer a contract without confidence that it was even close to being fit for print, and that would require massive reworking before shipping.
I would expect that if an editor can’t get an author’s work prepped for shipping within ONE year and with minimal edits, they’re goofing off or yanking your chain. I’m no expert, and I’m mainly basing this off common sense and my experience with time-to-market economics in other areas, but I’d want a contract with a minimum-time-to-market-or-the-rights-revert clause.
For some context, Tolkien published The Hobbit in 1938, was surprised at its popularity, spent about fifteen years writing the trilogy in relative solitude, and published all three of them between 1954-1956.
I think the 10 years includes the time she was writing it off and on, before she got a deal. If you look at the post, it gives a timeline of agent and editor revisions, and it looks to be less than a year