Editing: Taking criticism

As a writer, it is absolutely necessary to seek out and accept criticism. Damn, it’s hard, though. It’s not easy to find people in general you trust that implicitly. It’s almost impossibly rare, though, to discover an especially talented editor you trust. What you generally end up with is a normally talented editor you trust only to a point.

Why only to a point? Because she changes stuff! Stuff that was good! It obviously was, you clearly liked it, because you wrote it! Why, to change it would be blasphemous!

Damn *@&^$ editor! What in the hell did she think she was doing?

You paid her to edit it, though. Editing means changing. She did her job, moron.

But she changed things that didn’t need changing!

Are you so all-fired sure about that? Why don’t you just sit for a while with an ice-cold San Pellegrino from Italy, or if you’re really angry, a Gerolsteiner, the fine German alternative?

Ooh, bubbly! How long do I have to sit?

Until you’re ready to do something else.

I can’t go back to editing?

Not until you can see it objectively.

Yeah, but that’ll be, like, never.

So go for a hike. Climb a mountain. Get some clarity.

A hike?

For a week or more.

That’s camping.

Oh, you’re a bright one.

I know.

So I work on something else for a week or two. Yes, I am embarrassed to say that’s generally how long it takes before I can reread the editor’s report and not be miffed. Even then, though, I’m not willing to accept everything. I think I know better. After all, it’s my story. But except where I’m exceptionally resistant, I end up making changes. Truth be told, I’m not some sort of genius writer—ever. Hell, I’m not even good all the time. I am original. I don’t think I’ll ever have to defend myself against charges of plagiarism. But it’s a run-of-the-mill sort of originality. No genius stuff.

Damn.

But she’s no genius either!

She never said she was.

But that’s what I need!

Because you’re so close to genius level that nothing more pedestrian will help?

Well . . . no.

Then get off your high horse and make the story better.

Fine. But what do I do when the editor’s simply wrong? Ignore her? (I’ll finally admit it’s not something to get angry about.)

Even better is to understand why she said it. The proposed change may be bonkers, but that doesn’t mean there’s no problem to deal with.

Yeah.

You know you’re going to appreciate the changes in the end.

Yeah, and that bugs me.

Why?

Because I wanted to be better from the start.

Welcome to real life, human.