[Note: Crossposted from Defiled Curator]
Seeing as how my Facebook feed is comprised mainly of fellow authors, many of them small-press or self-published (and who are, by and large, absolutely phenomenal; I could devote an entire post to just listing the excellent works of friends and associates I’ve been exposed to over the last few years, but that would be nepotic as all get out), I need to word this very carefully so that the wrong people don’t find themselves offended over what I’m about to say and that the people I am talking about don’t recognize themselves in their entirety here. I’m delivering a message, one I feel is extremely important for everyone with literary tendencies, not attempting to spark yet another boring and pointless author fight. I’ve seen them, I’ve been in the margins for a few, and they don’t interest me.
Some authors need to both act like adults and administer, to themselves, a massive reality check.
As I am Little Miss Perpetually Late to the Party, I’m fairly certain this issue has been addressed at least a hundred times by now, but seeing as how most of the flak has come from fellow authors, I’d like to toss my perspective out as well.
Most people are already familiar, I’m sure, with Jacqueline Howett, her book The Greek Seaman (oh hai, amusing multiple signifieds! [Knock it off with the Theory jokes already, nerd girl. -- DC]), the review that triggered a massive temper tantrum and the aftermath that reverberated around the internet.
If you’re not familiar, this is where it began. Read it and come back. I’ll still be here, mostly because I have no life.
As I said before, several others have already covered her unprofessional behavior. I’m annoyed about something completely different. If one author nobody knows anything about shoots herself in the foot before the public has a chance to read and enjoy her work, does anyone hear it?
I don’t.
This is what has me highly annoyed:
Besides if you want to throw crap at authors you should first ask their permission if they want it stuck up on the internet via e-mail. That debate is high among authors.
Your the target not me!
Now get this review off here!
I’d like to know where this debate is going on, actually. I wonder if there are any real writers involved.
Yes, I am a writer. However, I am (and will always be) predominantly an editor and critic. It’s what I’ve been academically trained for, and what I’m pursuing advanced degrees in. I take my freelance editing jobs very seriously, and my critique work is done painstakingly at the cost of everything else I could be doing with my free time.
Apparently Jacqueline Howett believes that I do not have the right to stand in judgement of a text should my judgement be negative, or that I do not have the right to call out typographical mistakes. I do not have the right to point out where a text is weak just as thoroughly as I do where it is strong. Critics owe the authors, if not for bestowing them with free books to read but for writing in the first place.
That is absolute bullshit.
It has been said before that everyone’s a critic, and largely this is true. It may seem as if I’m copping an elitist attitude when I say this, but an untrained critic is actually a reviewer, which doesn’t negate their opinion. It just means that they automatically default to a pared-down version of reader-response theory as their lens, which is entirely acceptable. Are the people I found both annoyingly inaccurate and immensely amusing in their interpretations of Kafka reviewers?
Unfortunately, yes.
It’s always a bit painful to read reviews wherein the reader doesn’t get it, but the best thing about dealing with reviewers is that the approach they almost always take is both incredibly easy to accept and incredibly easy to reject. They don’t generally go that deep into the text, they rely heavily on their own experiences and preferences, the author and the author’s intent are irrelevant and the only thing that matters is the reviewer themselves.
Like what they have to say, or appreciate the way in which they point out flaws or areas needing improvement in the text? Fine. Accept it.
Think they’re full of shit, don’t know what they’re talking about, or have missed the point of the work entirely? Stop paying attention. Bam. Done.
What you don’t do, whether dealing with a critic, a reviewer who knows what they’re talking about or a reviewer who doesn’t, is sacrifice your dignity, betray your ethics and (more than likely, in Howett’s case) tank your career over a negative review, especially an honest one.
Dramatic temper tantrums over negative responses to artistic work is not new. It’s an age-old, incredibly annoying and mind-blowingly counterproductive practice that some authors, playwrights, visual artists and musicians employ with almost clockwork regularity. Vincent Gallo did not react well at all to Roger Ebert’s critique of his film The Brown Bunny. It’s the reason John Simon wound up with steak tartare thrown in his face, and why I anticipate my own food-related assault at some point in the future. It’s the reason why Alice Hoffman vented her anger on Twitter instead of walking away from her computer and doing something productive instead of fuming.
It’s unprofessional, egotistic and reduces the author to an elementary school child screaming and rolling on the floor, attempting to extort the adults into caving, and in a professional setting absolutely does not work.
A critic owes an author nothing. A critic’s responsibility is to the public, the work being critiqued, and to the truth. The author, once the text/album/film/play/etc is let loose into the world, relinquishes control over the work, who sees it and the responses it garners. To insist that a critic should feel the need to ask permission from the author to speak freely is ridiculous.
Not going to happen, Howett. If you can’t deal with it, pack it up and go home, and leave your manuscripts on your hard drive where nobody else has access to them and cannot hurt your feelings by pointing out your weak spots.
I think I’ve said enough about the roles of the critic and author. Now I’d like to lay out my opinion on the role (or lack thereof) of the editor, which is equally important and equally misunderstood.
I’m uncertain as to where and when this practice began, but being a writer does not automatically imbue one with the skill set necessary for editorship. This is something that annoys me to absolutely no end, this Oh, well, I wrote a story and it was okay so naturally I can edit my friends’ stories and slap the label of editor onto my resume.
An author is not by default an editor. Editors by and large are writers, but the reverse is absolutely not true.
I have lost track at this point of the number of poorly-edited books I’ve read, declined to read due to noticing the lack of quality prior to purchasing or have been asked to review. This both angers and depresses me a great deal, for a number of reasons.
I don’t approach a text hoping to hate it. Even when the author is someone I do not find personally appealing, or their work seems obnoxious, or I really want to hate it, I end up reminding myself that this is unprofessional behavior. I begin reading with as purely objective an approach as possible, and I do not want to be let down. That would be a waste of my time, which is almost nonexistent these days. When I find a typographical error, the first time it is a momentary distraction from the text; if it’s the only one I find, no big deal. When I find a second one, it’s somewhat irritating, and I begin to entertain suspicions as to the quality of the text as a whole. Third, fourth, fifth typos and beyond are extremely annoying, and I find myself either abandoning the work or forcing my way through just to get it over with.
Authors, you do not want to inflict this kind of irritation on critics, reviewers or anyone else.
Just as a critic has an obligation to the truth and to the work, so too does the author. It never fails to confuse and annoy me when authors, most of whom are still struggling to establish themselves, spend a great deal of time working on a manuscript and then rush through revisions because they’re so desperate for people to read them. The revisions process is, by and large, harder than writing the first draft — not only do typos need to be weeded out, but the whole work has to be tracked as if it were one large organism made up of smaller, complex organ systems. There’s spelling to consider, syntax to scrutinize, continuity to track and a host of other details that can easily derail a text when placed into the wrong hands.
Make no mistake here, either — taking the attitude of Well, she has a BA in Political Science and probably writes a lot for her job, so I think she’d make a great editor is indeed placing a work into the wrong hands.
I think one of the reasons this happens so often is that small-press and self-publishing authors tend to run in circles. We like our fellow writers, collaborate with them, appear in the same anthologies and literary magazines and, for the most part, see ourselves as equals with one another. There’s a great deal of camaraderie, and often these social circles feel more like families than anything else.
Just because you like another author, or feel comfortable with them, or enjoy their work doesn’t automatically make them worthy of being an editor, and doing so is actually damaging the credibility of everyone in this field.
Editors have what I like to generically refer to as the “editorial eye.” Not a very impressive or creative description, I know. Editors must be able to spot errors of all kinds while reading through a manuscript, at the same time keeping track of continuity, characters and setting. This involves note-taking and memorization of a great deal of small details. An editor needs to be able to recognize not only the difference between “its” and “it’s” (which I have spotted the misuse of in a large number of books, from small and large presses, and media outlet websites as of late) but instances where a character’s words don’t match their personality, contradictions in the text and a host of other issues.
A writer writes; an editor edits. If a writer hasn’t studied or doesn’t understand grammar or linguistics, they’re not an editor. Period.
An editor is in a support position to the author, goes largely unnoticed and, except for some publishers’ copyright pages and authors’ acknowledgements sections, isn’t mentioned by name. It’s an analytical position, not to be taken lightly or for some sort of glamour agenda. There’s a reason everyone remembers Franz Kafka but not Max Brod. Editors are, for the most part, hidden; they exist to remove flaws and apply polish to a work, not to draw attention to themselves.
There’s nothing wrong with wanting to be an author and not possessing the required editorial skills to go it a hundred percent alone. I do both and still rely on a few trusted associates to read over my work just to allow a set of fresh eyes the opportunity to pick up what I may have missed. Editors are absolutely necessary.
That said, make sure your editor really is an editor before you choose someone to go over your manuscript, don’t confuse friendly feelings with professional ability, and for the love of all that is good in the world don’t go on the offensive when your mistakes are pointed out to you. If you fail to address them before the work goes public, it’s your fault, and nobody owes you anything.
In short, don’t do a damn thing Jacqueline Howett did.
May 29th, 2011 
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