Okay, the Tale of Two Editors:

It was the best of times, it was the worst of times….

Well, not the best of times really, but definitely the worst.  Maybe even the worstest. 

To begin with, you must understand that I am a whiner.  This is not a good thing (though it can certainly be cathartic), especially given that I am not being completely facetious.  I knew going in to the editing process that, as an author, I needed to try to bring three things to the table to make myself particularly attractive to publishers: 1) Be able to write good content on the suggestions of others; 2) Make deadlines; and 3) Be easy to work with.  I hereby declare that I have two of these down pat.  As for the other… well, I aspire to have two and a half of these down pat.

I learned quite quickly in the editing process on GDC that I am not inherently easy to work with during revision.  When I’m asked to make changes I disagree with, it bothers me.  A lot.  I’m not proud of it and not comfortable with it; I know that, in terms of my career goals, it is substantially counterproductive.  But I’m also realistic enough to know that something that bothers me this much isn’t going to change overnight–nor did it change over the course of a single book, at least not enough to become anything approaching a non-issue.

So, you can imagine my reaction when I met with Stacy Whitman and she started giving me this thoughtful, apt list of hateful ways it would be wise for me to change my story.  We were having lunch, and I was about ready to bite down on the table in agony when she told me the really bad news: she was leaving Mirrorstone.  Like the rest of the publishing world, economic (and other) factors had Wizards of the Coast restructuring, the result of which was the suspension, or whatever the proper term is, of one of their two children’s imprints.  Luckily, my book wasn’t with the half on the cutting block.  Very unluckily, Stacy straddled both imprints, and rather than lose a limb she decided to move on. 

Yup, the editor who had read and loved my book enough to champion it was leaving the publisher and, by necessity, me with it.  The rest of the editing process was to be handled by Stacy’s boss, Head Editor for Mirrorstone, Nina Hess, who at that point was nothing more to me than a total stranger with a vaguely Nazish name.  (Please, no hate mail, as I mean no insult to those with names of Germanic origin.  Or to tender hearted Nazis.  It was just me being petulant, which if you’re going to visit this blog with any degree of frequency you’d better get used to.)

So having lost the great advocate of my book, I was thrust upon poor Nina, who was now handling Stacy’s load of work on top of her already substantial duties.  When we first talked via email she had not even had a chance to read my book, and final revisions were due in about two weeks  (and no, I am not exaggerating).  Though Nina kindly extended the deadline, it was not a pleasant experience.

So we started to feel out a way to get the book done in a timely fashion.  To my profound irritation, Nina agreed with all the recommendations for change Stacy had made, but on some issues where Stacy and I agreed, Nina wanted more changes.  So I ended up compromising in two complete rounds, which given my previously stated disposition felt a lot like being trodden upon by a pee wee soccer team all shod in spikes only to roll over and yell, “Hey, let’s go again!”

I kicked and screamed a bit, perhaps more than was called for, if I’m honest.  Some times Nina gave in; others she didn’t.  When she held her ground, I’m proud to say, I walked a trench in my floor rather than carry on the debate.  The only exception is when I insisted on changing the name of the wyrmling in GDC–after I’d read it in the galley proof.  Now, for those who don’t know this, making compositional changes at the galley stage is not a good idea.  It makes everyone cross at you, and deservingly so.  These types of changes should have been addressed earlier.  But I just couldn’t bear the name, and so Nina very generously worked with me to find a compromise that, I believe, we both like quite well.  As for the appelation about which I threw the hissy fit, it shall remain unspoken for eternity to eternity.  (Though, oddly enough, it had a bit of the Bismarck flavor about it as well.  Despite the purely coincidental nature of this post, really, I don’t have anything against Germanic culture! In fact, in Monty Python’s Philosophers’ World Cup, I always cheer for the Germans. How can you not if you want to win? You always pull for the side that will cheat, and with Nietzsche and Kant, it’s a total no brainer. If you haven’t seen the game, watch one of the truly great sporting events in human history by clicking above.)  

So, after all that I’m just waiting for my release day, when I know one of you out there is going to contact me–that day mind you–and say, “What do you mean of coarse I will?  Of coarse?  What moron edited this?”

To you, Sir or Ma’am, I reply with pride: I am said moron what did edit thus!  Unless you’re referring to coarse rather than course or hollowed in place of hallowed.  Then it was certainly Stacy or Nina.  Definitely.

Next time: A Way Not to Start a Writing Career (L.T., this one’s for you).