Naomi Dawn Musch

I have huge respect for editors.  Editors play the roles of sharpener, wordsmith, and even psychologist. They work against deadlines. They've their own reputations to consider in this ever-tightening industry, so they don't want to present a writer's work that's less than gleaming.

Ever since becoming an editor for a shiny new publishing house myself, my respect for what they've been doing all these years has deepened. Editors bear a weight of responsibility that's, well, trepidatious anyway. That's how I feel when approaching a manuscript. I know that author is hoping for insight, ideas, and also a pretty good dose of mercy.

As an editor, and especially as an editor who is also a struggling writer, I'm acquainted with the heart and soul going into the stories I'm asked to supervise. The last thing I want to do is offend my authors by making any light or caustic remarks about a line or a scene that they've likely sweated over for days. Yet, at the same time, I need to be firm when I sense a misstep or wrong direction for the manuscript. I need to offer critique that is necessary, even if it may be hard to take (as well as to give). I need to hold high standards on behalf of my publisher, even if the author quails.

All that said, the same is true for the author who diligently self-edits. We cannot be so in love with our words that we aren't willing to let them go. We have to be able to look at our manuscripts with the objective point of view of a reader who doesn't know what's coming, and ask ourselves, "If I were them, would I care?"

We need to sharpen our grammar. We need to be willing to take advice. We need to be widely read. We need to develop thick skins, or at least rub a little oil on our backs so that criticism runs off like water and puddles at our feet where we can look down into it and see if its reflection is true.

Editing, self or otherwise, isn't for the cowardly. It's for those who are willing to boldly go forth with red pens poised, and to face off with characters, scene, and structure in such a way that only the fittest survive.