Missing Will.

Not long ago, I was traveling far from home. Being away somewhat isolates you from what’s going on back home—but not altogether.

While away, we heard the tragic news of the death of Will Bagley. I counted Will among my friends, respected his research and writing, admired his wide-ranging intellect, marveled at the reaches of his memory, and listened to his infectious laughter. I will miss all that, and more.

Will had no reason to befriend me. He did not need to answer my questions, correct my misconceptions, or share his knowledge with me, whether in conversation or in the many writings—his own and those of others—he shared with me.

There will never be another historian like Will Bagley. Few will ever approach his many accomplishments. And no one will do so with his curmudgeonly good humor.

I will miss Will. Thank goodness I have a long line of his books on my shelves, and will hear his voice again whenever I open one of them.

Lies They Tell Writers, Part 44: Editors Love Enthusiasm.

Once upon a time I wrote a short essay about passion—being passionate, following your passion, lack of passion being a fatal flaw, that sort of thing—rendering my opinion that the whole notion is overblown.

It caused something of a stir. Some agreed with my ruminations, others did not. One reader (and fine writer) opined that passion was a prerequisite and that fire and enthusiasm for the work were important considerations for editors.

Perhaps. And there’s certainly nothing wrong with being passionate about your writing if that’s what butters your biscuit.

But it ain’t necessarily so.

A reliable—but not precise—accounting of editors I have worked with includes some 15 or so with magazines and periodicals, at least two dozen on anthologies of short fiction or poetry, and somewhere north of 20 in the process of getting books, both fiction and nonfiction, into print. Some editors I have worked with on only one or a few occasions; several of them many, many times.

None ever asked about, commented on, or required enthusiasm—passion—on my part.

But I have absorbed a few notions about what seems to be widely regarded among the red pencil set. Here’s some of it.

Good ideas are valuable. Not just ideas that are good on their own, but good ideas that fit the nature of the editor’s requirements. It should go without saying that they expect quality writing—well-structured and readable and all that, with a certain amount of flair. Research—when applicable—should be thorough and your facts should be straight; even fiction should feel credible. Your manuscripts should be clean; as free of typos as possible with proper grammar and punctuation and spelling and such.

Finally, and probably most important, editors like reliability. If you meet deadlines, keep your promises, and do what you say you will—and are asked to—do, you’ll be doing everyone a favor. Including yourself and your career.

If you’re passionate on top of all that, fine. But don’t plan on enthusiasm alone getting you through.

Woody Allen is credited with this little bit of wisdom: “Eighty percent of success is showing up.” In the broader sense, that advice certainly applies to writing.

Lies They Tell Writers, Part 41: Plan on Rejection.

You hear the stories all the time: How famous author so-and-so’s first novel, which went on to become a best seller and a classic, received forty-eleven-hundred rejection letters from publishers before finally getting published.

Don’t plan on it happening to you.

Your book may go on to be a classic, but it’s unlikely you’ll get many rejection letters along the way.

That’s because what once was true is seldom the case anymore. In days gone by, publishers routinely sent rejection letters to aspiring authors. Some were boilerplate one-size-fits-all form letters, others offered actual criticism of the book, reasons why it was not a good fit for that publisher, even encouragement and advice.

But, except on rare occasions, those days are gone.

Queries and submissions today are met, more often than not, with silence.

Most large publishing houses are staffed by a fraction of the number of people they were in the past, and those still on the job don’t have—or won’t take—the time to respond to—reject—your work. Smaller publishers are often shoestring operations and the owner-publisher-editor-designer-distributor-chief cook and bottle washer has too many pies and not enough fingers to reject every (or any) submission that comes along.

This is true for unsolicited queries and submissions, but also, in many cases, applies when you’ve been invited during an interview at a conference or workshop to submit. You’ll get much the same treatment from literary agents. Unanswered queries are also the norm nowadays at periodicals.

Still, if you don’t submit or query, you’ll never get anywhere so you’ve got to do it. Just don’t bother steeling yourself for the heartbreak of being rejected. More likely, you’ll simply be ignored. Which I find even more disheartening.

Lies They Tell Writers, Part 27: Editors are Idiots

We’ve all heard horror stories about editors. Complaints range from “She just doesn’t get it” to “He totally ruined the book” to anything and everything in between.

Some of those tales might be true. It’s unlikely that editors, on average, are more capable at their chosen craft than other folks are at theirs—so, odds are there are some idiot editors out there. On the other hand, it’s equally unlikely that the ratio of dumb editors exceeds the human average, either.

Most editors, in my experience, are smart folks. Perhaps I’ve been lucky. But none of the editors I’ve worked with has ever done anything other than help make a book (or article or story) better. And their “touch” has tended to be light, and deft. The same holds true with copy editors. Their assistance has been valuable and, on occasion, they’ve kept me from making a fool of myself.

On the other hand, I have heard a few editors at writers’ conferences say that once they’ve accepted your book it’s no longer “your” book, but “our” book, and you can expect wholesale changes to suit their fancy.  

As a writer, I’m afraid I would have to edit that attitude. Because, despite the important contributions editors can make, it’s still my book, not theirs.

And any editor who doesn’t recognize that basic fact is, at best, a frustrated writer. And, quite possibly, an idiot.

Lies They Tell Writers, Part 8: Don’t Worry About Grammar and Spelling.

On more than a few occasions, I have heard people say before an audience of aspiring, and even accomplished, writers, “Don’t worry about grammar and spelling. The editors will fix that. Just tell your story. Get it out there.”

It could be that will work with some editors, sometimes. But I am more in keeping with Baxter Black’s view that an editor’s job is to keep you from getting published. And, to further that notion, the first thing editors look for when they pick up a manuscript is a reason to toss it in the trash and get on to the next submission.

It’s not that editors are mean. But they are busy and overworked and haven’t the time to wade through a lot of amateurish writing—whether it be poor spelling, bad grammar, awkward syntax, a lousy plot, awful characters, dumb dialogue, or whatever.

They haven’t the time to waste.

But writers do. And, in our case, that time isn’t wasted. We ought to be concerned enough about our work that we want to get it right. And getting the little things right is often an indication that the big things will fall into place as well. Not always. But often enough to make it worth the effort.

Sew, sea that you’re spelling and stuff is rite wen your righting.