At least in the science fiction community, there’s a lot of false community wisdom floating around about the editorial process. Some of them may have been true once. Some were probably invented to mess with the heads of noobs. Some of them are carefully nutured lies, like Santa Claus and the Easter Bunny. Well, no longer. I’m here to tell you the truth, no matter how ugly it may be.
LIE #1: Editors give every story fair consideration. OR: Editors reject stories without reading them at all.
The truth is, the slush is deep, and it’s rarely an editor’s favorite part of the job. Why do you think so many places have slush readers?
Every story doesn’t get fair consideration. Not every story deserves it. If you can’t be bothered to read the submission guidelines and follow them, it’s an easy rejection. If you have five grammar and spelling mistakes in the first two paragraphs, it’s an easy rejection. If it’s a story about vampires, and I hate vampire stories, it’s mostly an easy rejection.
Most stories get at least a page out of me. Then I skip to the last 3 paragraphs, if I’m feeling generous. Some get less. Some work is so obviously bad that it’s startlingly easy to know it’s not going to work. But every story gets looked at. Nothing ever gets rejected without being partially read. Honest.
LIE #2: Editors never reject a good story.
I rejected plenty of really good stories at the Fortean Bureau. I’ve even rejected a couple at Escape Pod. The reason is pretty simple: editorial vision or scope. The Fortean Bureau was looking for a particular kind of story. Your space opera, no matter how good, was never going to appear there. Likewise, we don’t accept horror or fantasy at Escape Pod. If the story is good, and sucks me in, I will recommend sending it over to the other editors.
Stories get rejected for being too long, too short, too similiar to another story the editor has already bought… there are as many reasons for rejection as there are stories. And not all of them involve you making mistakes. There are aspects of the process that a writer cannot control. Best to just relax about it.
LIE #3: Editors don’t foster new writers like they did in the old days, and don’t care about new talent.
John W. Campbell was a meddlesome bastard who sent his writers specific ideas for stories. He was not what you call a “hands off” kind of editor. He wrote his fair share of stories, and some of the tales I’ve heard about him make me think that he was often thinking as a writer as much as he was an editor. He wasn’t afraid to rewrite someone else’s story.
For whatever bizzare reason, some people wish editors would take that level of interest in their work, and they lament that editors no longer foster new writers, giving them the kind of constructive criticism that leads to their personal growth. Everything for writers was just wonderful back then but these editors today are jerks!
Not true. Campbell may have had time to do this with a larger percentage of his submissions, but the field was smaller then. Today, there are tens of thousands of writers all trying to break in to the same publications. We simply don’t have time to give personal feedback to each submission. These days, sometimes the best you get is an encouraging rejection. My first came from Stanley Schmidt: “I like your writing, so I hope you will send more in the future.” Not very specific, but it does the trick. It tells you that you’re on the right track.
As much as I give Gordon van Gelder a hard time for his opposition to online media, the man writes a very succinct and helpful rejection letter. Even the form letters have a system to them to help you figure out why the story was rejected. I always simultaneously feared and looked forward to his short notes.
Editors do build a stable of writers. The reason most people don’t see it is because by the time you come along, the editor has already established a group of authors he or she can count on. But short story writers in particular are always going on to write novels, so openings do occur from time to time.
If you really want feedback on your work, join a workshop or critique circle. It’s not the editor’s job to help you become a better writer. Sometimes, we’re helpful, but we can’t do it for everyone.
LIE #4: Editors are people too.
“Editors are just like us.” No, we’re not. You don’t have a neverending stream of bad writing coming at you day in, day out. You get to read for pleasure, selecting material that has been through at least one filter. Whereas you turn on the tap and get a stream of nice drinkable water, we put our mouths to a sewer pipe and hope to get at least one swallow that won’t give us raging diarrhea.
I know the sentiment of the phrase is meant to imply that we’re not godlike arbiters of taste, making and breaking careers on a whim. But editors do wield power. And it changes us. Generally it makes us ill-tempered and easily distracted by shiny objects. I’ve yet to feel godlike, but I’m not ruling out the possibility. Maybe when something I’ve published wins a Hugo, I will ascend to Asgard.
LIE #5: Editors (and critics) are failed writers.
As a rule, no. A lot of us are moderately successful writers. Some of us have never wanted to write and never will. There are a few who have started out as writers and given it up for the editing/publishing game (Gordon, I think), but not all of us have.
We’re not driven to become editors out of bitterness. We all come to the position for different reasons, but I think most of us start out as optimistic and hopeful. We think that maybe we have a vision for a type of story that nobody else has seen before. We day dream about finding writers that amaze us and publishing them before anyone else.
It takes a peculiar sort of ego to take up editing. And thank god. If it wasn’t for editors, we’d all have to sort through the kind of self-published garbage that made it possible for Geocities to stay in business for so long. I shudder to think of a world without editors.
And finally, a well-known truth:
You can bribe an editor.
Most of us are broke and driven to drink copious amounts of alcohol. See the sewer pipe analogy above. That gives us a weakness you can exploit. Next time you’re at a convention, go to the bar, and buy a drink for your favorite editor. Make sure you do it early on, because seven or eight drinks in, we’ll never remember your name. We’ll be lucky to wake up in the right hotel room, or even the right state. Who bought the drinks on a night like that will be the least of our concerns when we wake up naked atop a desert mesa covered from head to toe in blue paint.
Putting a name to a face, along with a mental database note of “bought me a beer” doesn’t hurt. One of the things that makes editing easier is pretending that the stories aren’t all written by human beings with heart. Sometimes, we have to put that out of our minds. And if you find a way to politely shatter that illusion, well, it can be good for you. But only if you are likely to start selling stories anyway.
There are no great secrets to being published. Read lots. Write stories. Lots and lots of stories. Submit the work until the stories are either accepted or rejected by every market you could bear to see your name associated with. That’s pretty much all there is to it. Everything else is basically unimportant.
*applauds*
That was the best metaphor ever.
Ever.
It’s perfect on so many levels. Except the literal one. That one’s just icky.
Fantastic.
re: well-known truth
*sigh* it is true. That’s where you’ll find me at a convention: the bar.
Sewer pipe?
Raging diarrhea?
You flatterer!
Yvette, of course I’m not talking about your writing. Someone else’s truly awful crap.
Great stuff!
“Most of us are broke and driven to drink copious amounts of alcohol. See the sewer pipe analogy above. That gives us a weakness you can exploit.”
Now I know what I’ve been doing wrong all these years… It’s sad, because I’m a serious pro at the bar. lol
Lie #4 was amazing. I actually laughed.
> As a rule, no. A lot of us are moderately
> successful writers. Some of us have never
> wanted to write and never will. There are a few
> who have started out as writers and given it up
> for the editing/publishing game (Gordon, I
> think), but not all of us have.
So far as I can tell, most of everyone in this business was at least thinking about being a writer when they fell into it. But most editors don’t have the talent to write. (Check out the odd bits they leave behind, or even try reading one of their letters! It’s plain to observe.) And most of everyone, these days, can’t make a living as a writer.
Hilarious!!!
#4 needs to be framed.
Ok, what about this? I submitted a partial to an agent and it was sent to his associate junior agent, unbeknown to me, and she passed on it. Her rejection letter, which I had to ask about twice since she lost the SASE(accusing me of not sending one in the first place), was full of grammatical errors, and when I called her on it, she admitted she was a writer too, and judging from her lack of writing skill both grammatically and in general, a failed one. So remember it goes both ways, not just from your high and mighty point of view.
You’re complaining to the wrong guy, Lorna. I know it sucks to be rejected, and it sounds like their editorial process wasn’t great, but it happens. Take your bitterness and put it into your work and not into comments on my blog. Bitching about agents here isn’t going to get you anywhere.
i’ve shared this on Twitter. really fun. thanks for posting your thoughts. :)
The information in this post is not that surprising but it is very useful at the same time. I think editorial vision and scope can be easy for an aspiring writer to overlook, often to their detriment.
Thanks for sharing the anecdote about John Campbell.
Very true, even outside the SF/F world.
I HATE having to reject a good story, and yes sometimes I have to. Because of that, yes, I would like a drink, thx.
Everyone’s picking on #4 and i have to agree. How refreshing! I’m retweeting this. ;0)
Editors make a living from writing but not many writers do.
“I am not an editor, and shall always try to do right and be good so that God will not make me one.” Mark Twain.
This is excellent! Very funny!
I think many critics are indeed “failed” or “aspiring” or hopeful writers. I do agree that editing is a profession, separate from writing. But as to many critics? I know for a fact that several critics also double-duty by being slush denizens. We also have some critics who are also writers, not failed at all. I heard a couple of years ago about one critic who was a near-weekly denizen of a very well-known slush pile. Considering the craptastic comments this individual has made for years about not only myself, but the majority of my female friends, I loved hearing this info from the “horse’s mouth” — i.e. the editor to whom he had directed his loving slush attentions. No, I won’t disclose, but if you have a problem with any critic, go ahead and thinks that it’s them. It might as well be.
I can see the problems editors must go through nowadays, especially since in my uni alone im probably competing with 100 people to be the best. Let alone those older and more experienced, those on forums, on blogs, etc…yeah. It’s alot of crap perfectly demonstrated by writing forums every day. (Yeah. That includes me)
One thing that does gripe is sometimes not hearing back at all from an editor. A rejection slip would be nice, without it almost feels like Im floating in the dark.
But yeah, not a big gripe.
I feel so lucky to have my editor, especially as a debut author. She has brought my first novel to a whole new level and I can only pray I get to work with her again! I have learned so much.
Great Post!
xoxo — Hilary
I see your Mark Twain, and raise you a T. S. Eliot:
“Some editors are failed writers–but so are most writers.“
–T. S. Eliot
Ah, you gave away the “buy an editor a drink” secret.… And just btw, most authors drink copious amounts of alcohol, too. So for those of you who can’t find an editor in a bar, find an author.
So true!!
I started out as a news writer almost ten years ago and love it. About four years in, I was promoted(?) to editor of the paper I worked for. After three very very long excruciating years of editing, I am now happily writing again. You are absolutely correct when you say that being an editor requires a certain level of ego. As far as #4, you are also correct, being an editor does change us and it does make us ill-tempered. I can honestly say that having taken what the rest of the world would view as a demotion, I could not be happier to be out of that position.
On the other hand, editors are a necessary evil that writers must deal with, and a world without editors would be a frightening place. I am thankful for my editor even more after reading this, and I must remember to thank him for all he puts up with. I must also remember to ask how it is that he manages to smile so often.
Heather, it’s interesting to hear your experience as it gives us both sides AND the middle, as it were. My own only try at editing was on a local newsletter, wholly volunteer-based, and while i took the product seriously, nothing got turned down as we were grateful for any contribution — which must be why it didn’t turn me grumpy. ;) I thoroughly enjoyed my stint and would love to do something similar again. I can see i was spoilt, having only the artistic decisions to make and none of the unpopular ones.
The hardest part of that job was chivvying people to write for the next issue; the most creative part was making the various, very unprofessional reports worth reading, and each issue feel like a satisfying whole instead of a random pile of reader’s letters. I’m a long way from changing my mind about wishing to do it again in future, but perhaps i’m more realistic now about needing to be picky if a role of that kind comes along.
I especially enjoyed #5. I’m a film editor and no, I don’t want to be a director or producer. I want to be an editor.