Editors Aren’t Always Write

This article originally appeared in the Fall 2024 issue of Write, the official magazine of The Writers’ Union of Canada

I’VE A CONFESSION TO MAKE — sometimes I don’t understand the assignment. I’m specifically referring to the time I edited a manuscript without paying attention to the voice of the author. They had invited me to read their book, which had been already edited, and I asked if I should flag anything that might have been overlooked. When the author said yes, I went deeper than just typos and commas. And after sending back the first chapter, the author told me I hadn’t respected the cadence of their storytelling at all. This “Yikes!” moment woke me right up. I had never done anything like that before with a client, and because of this author’s comment, I haven’t since. So, even with my 25 years of experience in the technical writing and CanLit realms, it was helpful to realize I still had important lessons to learn.

I’m so grateful for that feedback because here’s a secret, writer folks: it’s okay to redline the redlines! Editors can make mistakes or misjudgments, and your comments help us improve.

The thing about us is that we just love words. Arranging the alphabet is our passion. When an editor reviews your manuscript, they give you a tailored analysis of your work. It’s feedback by an actual human with a practised skill set in that profession.

Unfortunately, tensions can exist in writer-editor interactions. Authors may feel overwhelmed by what could happen during the editing process, and how their words will be treated. Perhaps they’re concerned they won’t have a choice but to accept every proposed change without further discussion. They could even have had past negative or toxic experiences that tarnish the desire to go forward with another editor. And truthfully, some editors, even those with the best intentions (like I had), can overstep. So, how can we make authors feel more comfortable with us during this phase of production?

In a healthy relationship with our clients, we strive to bring out the best in the work while maintaining the author’s style and goals for their project. Vivian Li, editor of Augur Magazine and author of Someday I Promise, I’ll Love You (845 Press) says this well: “I’d love for authors to understand that the majority of editors want to help you with your intentions for the story — to make it shine according to your vision. When working with an editor, the suggestions and edits are to help you approach the material in a different way or a unique angle. We aren’t trying to impose our views on the writing.”

Sadly, even though the editors I know subscribe to the practice of working with authors, I am also aware of other experiences where there seems to be a power imbalance. There is an imposed hierarchy instead of a team-based effort toward a common objective. This implication that an editor is always right might intimidate some authors who don’t realize they can and should question the comments they receive.

“I wish more authors knew that editing was a collaboration — that we’re working together, not separate,” says A.G.A. Wilmot, editor and author of Withered (ECW Press). “No worthwhile editor is trying to damage or undo the work you’ve done as an author.”

Wilmot also wants fellow editors to take note of our role in this working relationship. “I wish more [editors] knew that ours is not edict but suggestion, and that when it comes to fiction especially, there are no rules that can’t be broken providing the author has a reason for breaking them.”

Sometimes breaking those rules can be fun, especially when it lends itself to the work. I’m still smiling about a client’s use of “wankatude” to describe the attitude of a real… jerk. I allowed this adjective past the goalie because it fit perfectly with the storytelling, and frankly, needed to exist as a word.

While I know the benefits an editor can offer to a project, I can’t stress enough how vital it is for authors to understand not only when they should be flexible about accepting suggested changes but also when to hold firm. There are some things one can’t negotiate away.

In a post on the social media app Threads, Canadian speculative fiction author Krista Wallace wrote, “The most common criticism I received about Gatekeeper’s Key from agents and editors was, ‘Your dialogue is too colloquial.’ I thought, ‘For what? This is my world. Not someone else’s. Each character has their own voice, and you are seeing them as you meet each one.’ I am glad I held firm on my voice and my style.”

The author in me shouts an enthusiastic, “Yes!” at this. I have also had to reject an editor’s comments about how dialogue was delivered because the way I worded and punctuated it was unique to how that character spoke. Sometimes editors are right about this, but sometimes standard rules just don’t apply.

Another point to note — pardon me while I don my advocate hat — is that not all authors are neurotypical. I am autistic and can confirm there are ways of relaying information or creating characters that can be outside the norm but extremely valid. During a writing competition, an editor of short fiction told Talia C. Johnson, an author (and award-winning editor) who is autistic that their autistic character “needs to get over themself.” That callous remark tarnished the entire experience for her, and she never bothered writing for that event again.

It can be infuriating when characters who reflect one’s lived experiences are diminished or deemed unrelatable. And this dismissal of our voices can severely impact the quality of the edited manuscript, sometimes making it unrecognizable to ourselves. “An editor who strips the humanity and voice from your writing, especially when writing neurodivergent characters, isn’t worth the energy it takes to get that voice back in,” says C.L. Carey, author of Spaced! (Renaissance Press). “Find someone who cares and understands about disabled or neurodivergent voices.”

This should apply to all marginalized voices. An editor who doesn’t honour you, your lived experiences, or your work isn’t worth your time or money.

In the late ’80s, as a brand-new technical writer, I laughed aloud in the editing department because of a sign that read, “Editors are always write.” I loved the message behind it. Even though we can be greatly valuable in our role, we aren’t always right. Calling us out on that can add to our growth in this field. It will help us understand you and your work, and it will make us better when it comes to our future working relationships.

A lot of effort — and second-guessing and imposter syndrome-ing — goes into putting a book together, so I encourage you to team up with a professional who has your back, who you feel comfortable with, and who respects your opinion. Having an editor who is really on your side can take a lot of pressure off your brain during production. So, don’t settle until you find someone who is the best fit.

You and your writing deserve it.

Cait Gordon is an award-winning Canadian speculative fiction writer and anthology editor who advocates for disability, mental health, and neurodiversity representation in written works. She is the author of Season One: Iris and the Crew Tear Through Space! and the co-editor (with Talia C. Johnson) of the Nothing Without Us and Nothing Without Us Too disability fiction anthologies. Cait is autistic, disabled, and queer, and really loves cake.

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