For more than a dozen years now, I have worked as a non fiction editor and now and then dipped into fiction editing. Although there are obvious differences – non-fiction editing is generally concerned with conventional structures and language – both areas draw on similar analytical skills. My views on editing, however, have been formed mainly from my experiences and observations as a fiction writer and reader, and these views have been borne out through my professional editing.

My most recent experience of editing from a writer’s perspective was had through the evolution of my novel Apartment C, to be published in the UK by a small Oxford-based press, Kings Hart Books, in April 2008. Over the years of its development, the MS was read by a number of well-respected writers, a handful of Joe Public readers, at least two professional editors, and a British based assessment service. This exercise produced a kind of Rashomon effect, whereby each person viewed the story differently, and consequently had different concerns. The pick ups ranged from grammatical through to structural, but no one person seemed able to view the book in its entirety. The closest anybody came to a rigorous edit was a film producer/dramaturge, whose editing skills come from years of editing film scripts. Perhaps the rigour required in translating scripts onto film gives such practitioners the extra sight needed to see a novel’s structure clearly and to help resolve any weaknesses.

Most interesting was that even after supposedly forensic readings of Apartment C, everybody missed at least two logical errors and a scattering of language problems, which I picked up before the final FINAL submission. What is evident from my experience is how complex good editing is or, looked at another way, how skilful really good editors need to be. Ultimately, I was able from the various readings to piece together a more or less whole view of the novel, and apply a stringent editorial process… and by then enough time had passed to give me an objective view.

During this process, I still encountered the odd idea that editing is about the misuse or otherwise of the English language. The rules of grammar can always be broken, as long as they are broken consistently and within the parameters set by the writer. Cormac McCarthy’s hit novel The Road is a great example of rule breaking. His seamless and consistent non use of commas helps the bleak nihilistic narrative become even more urgent and compelling like an out of control train. Put a few commas in and the train stops and we all get off. 

The notion that the English language is up for misuse fails to appreciate the transient nature of language, the ingenuity of writers, and the contextual nature of all stories. Of course editing can and should address tone and voice and tense, and other language related matters. But the skill that was so patently lacking in the editors I used was to see the manuscript as a whole form – from the detail of the language to the plausibility of the characters through to the structure of the story. Ultimately, I suggest there are both technical and intuitive facets to editing, and there are few working editors I have met who seem to grasp these wholistic and, at times, abstract sides.

The other interesting point raised by this experience was my relationship (the writer) with the editors/readers. Clearly, for an editor to do even an average job, she needs to be able to empathise with the writing. The more successful the work, the more readily an editor or any reader should be able to identify with it. The editor’s job is firstly to recognise the parameters set by the writer and then to facilitate the writer to make the most creative use of the writing within those parameters (of course there may be exceptional times when an editor suggests shifting the boundaries of a story). Neither of the professional editors I used got anywhere near this goal. No matter how much I begged for feedback, criticism, anything that might help improve the novel, I got little more than a thorough proofread with a smattering of good copy editing thrown in – and it didn’t come cheap. Now that the novel is as ready as it will ever be, I can see how much was missed. Why? Firstly, one of the editors was a freelancer who was not answerable to a publisher. This shouldn’t be a factor as she was very experienced, but I wonder if ‘free ranging’ writers are taken less seriously. Perhaps there is even an unconscious pandering to the client, a desire not to get him offside. Secondly, I suspect it is simply a case of the general lack of vision in the world of fiction. Experienced editors tend to be in demand; they get approached by many writers looking for encouragement where perhaps none can genuinely be given. This would be enough to make any editor both wary and weary. There is a much bigger issue here though and it is about the state of publishing. 

The rise of profit-based publishing has seen the art of editing generally confined to literary magazines and the smaller and independent publishers. Of course, the multinationals use editors as well, but small budgets and tight schedules has seen their role diminished to a kind of high level proofreading (for a really slackly edited novel see Zadie Smith’s White Teeth). As margins become tighter, budgets for editing shrink further. This shift has meant that any notion of nurturing talent is antiquated; it is now about producing writers.

It is academic to argue that there is plenty of good writing but few good editors or conversely that there isn’t enough good work for the editors to practise their art on. There are no more or less good writers in existence now than in the past, what has changed is the avenues for their work. Until recently, every few years, small press experienced a renaissance, usually in reaction to a spate of mergers. Obviously, the more publishers that were swallowed up by conglomerates, the greater the need created for small press. That cycle though is no longer reliable—partly because most of the multinationals have merged, and partly because small press, no longer confined to a traditional print base, has splintered into a variety of forms. As the gap between small publishing, including vanity and hybrid publishers, and electronic publishing, and the medium to larger publishers widens, the two worlds are converging less, and real talent – writers and editors – is falling into the chasm.

Out of all of this a new paradigm has risen, entirely focused on the marketplace. This is not about genre versus literary or even about commercial versus art; it’s often got very little to do with writing at all. It is about celebrity, about creating hype, about the art of selling. And so let’s come back to the art of editing. It is difficult to see how the current landscape of publishing will have a place for high calibre editors of the past like Gordon Lish – famous (or infamous) for his severe editing of Raymond Carver’s work – , or Sonya Orwell, who was the editor of the literary and art review Horizon, or Robert McCrum, ex editor-in-Chief with Faber & Faber and now literary editor of the Observer. Similarly, it is almost unheard of to find high calibre writers running the fiction houses in the vein of TS Eliot and his years with Faber & Faber (when would they find the time?). Informally, writers continue to edit the work of other writers, but these relationships are often anonymous and rarely sanctified by publishers.

Of course, the best freelance and in-house editors will have a passion for writing, may have dabbled in writing or may even be fully fledged writers. Many editors though come up the ranks, having completed one of the demanding courses dedicated to its practice. These editors may also have a passion for writing and, if they work for one of the larger publishers, they may have a degree in marketing. Their reading eye may be more disposed to the culture of their employer publishers. In the world of commercial publishing, editors like everyone else need to know the book’s market and to facilitate the shaping and promoting of the material accordingly. What’s important here though isn’t the culture of the colossal publishers; it’s whether there is still a place for great editors. Of course there is. And that is because just as people need a talent for writing fiction before they can be taught fiction writing, the same applies to editing. It is more than just a job; it’s a calling.

I am confident that some time in the future I will have the pleasure of finding an editor who can help bring out my best creative work without compromising my vision. I can see our relationship as being comparable to that of a film director and a cinematographer– one having the technical ability to make the most of the vision and direction of the other, and together producing a work of art.

Ruth Learner is a Melbourne-based writer and editor. She has written many feature articles, reviews and art catalogue essays. She has also had a couple of non-fiction books and a few short stories published. Her debut novel Apartment C is due out in the UK in April 2008. Her website www.ruthlearner.com, which will feature Strong Opinions, a platform for debate on all things, is due to be launched in December. Contact: This e-mail address is being protected from spam bots, you need JavaScript enabled to view it