On Editing Anthologies of Writing
I don’t think of myself of an editor, but I am one: My new book just came out, and I am thrilled. Fast Fallen Women: 75 Essays of Flash Nonfiction (Woodhall Press, 2023) and included in the volume are new and original works by Amy Tan, Jane Smiley, Caroline Leavitt, Bobbie Ann Mason, Honor Moore, Darien Hsu Gee, Lynn Peril, Angela Bonavoglia, Ilene Beckerman, and other ground-breaking journalists, poets, novelists, and emerging writers from 20-81, many of whom have never seen their work in a book with an ISBN.
I also edited The Penguin Book of Women’s Humor, The Signet Book of American Humor, Don’t Tell Mama: The Penguin Book of Italian American Writing, A Sit-Down with the Sopranos, Make Mine a Double, and many more.
In fact, the first books I ever published were works I edited. The third Sex and Death in Victorian Literature, which I initially wanted to title Coming and Going: Sex and Death in Victorian Literature came out in 1990. The too-obvious title was initially nixed by MacMillan of London, which agreed to publish the collection, and their reluctance was echoed by the University Press of Indiana which agreed to publish the American edition.
I was, however, able to use “Coming and Going” for the title of my introduction.
The first two books, Last Laughs: Perspectives on Women and Comedy (1988) and New Perspectives on Women and Comedy (1992)—both reprinted and newly released by Routledge in 2022—helped establish my academic reputation because they included brilliant essays written by some of the most distinguished scholars in the field of feminist studies, 20th-century literature, 19th-century literature, and cultural criticism.
As the editor of these collections, I could also exercise my privilege of including several emerging scholars of my own generation—and include in each one an essay of my own. I earned a seat at the grown-up’s table.
More significantly, I learned three valuable lessons before age 35 with those early volumes:
Authors and editors are wise to accept the advice of their publishers; The editor has the luxury of inviting a range of contributors to participate in the project, and can help form intriguing and provocative conversations that will continue long after the publication of the volume, some of them lasting more than 30 years; There are ways to sneak what you really want to say into the work you’re doing, even if it means using methods either slightly unconventional or decidedly slight-of-hand (a la “Coming and Going” as the introduction’s title).
As I’ve written my own books, both trade and academic, I’ve kept up my passion for editing new collections—it becomes a luxury as well as a habit, like throwing dinner parties. Approached in 2019 by one of the founders of Woodhall Press, David LeGere (who just happens to be one of my former creative writing students) and asked whether I might consider doing a book gathering together women’s humorous flash nonfiction, I couldn’t resist.
Inviting writers to contribute was like inviting friends to a literary potluck: I knew the women I invited would all bring something delicious, satisfying, and irresistible. Some guests I knew only through reputation and felt breathless even daring to send them the request for their presences. Some I knew well enough to insist that they bring their signature fare. A few had barely entered a kitchen before yet had talent enough to whip up a fine offering from the ingredients they had at hand.
Fast Funny Women was published in 2021, with a gorgeous cover drawn by cartoonist/artists Mimi Pond who also contributed a brilliant essay. Other women in that book included Marge Piercy, Dawn Lundy Martin, Susan Shapiro, Fay Weldon, “Judge Judy” Sheindlin, Jo-Ann Mapson, and Liza Donnelly.
The book did so well, it was followed by Fast Fierce Women in 2022 (including essays by Maureen Corrigan, Phillis Levin, Leslie Morgan Steiner, Leighann Lord) and now by Fast Fallen Women, with the manuscript for Fast Famous Women in preparation for 2024.
Check out Gina Barreca’s Fast Fallen Women here:
(WD uses affiliate links)
What advice did I give the contributors? What did I tell the writers who pitched ideas?
As the narrator, you have control over your story. You have a chance, especially in flash nonfiction, to make a playground of the thin overlay of social soil covering the minefields that are the emotional and intellectual landscape of our lives. That’s the fun part. Having to keep the pieces short—under 750 words—means seeing large subjects through small lenses. But a fanatical attention to detail mustn’t be mistaken for an appetite for minutiae when it is, in fact, a passion for sharply-focused observation.
All good writing reflects and illuminates life; the best short writing holds up a compact mirror.
To turn lived experience into a strong story, you must not only remember the details of experience but also dismantle them. You have to take apart the event, examine the pieces, and reassemble them in such a way that they retain the original shape of what happened but are now in better working condition for a reader. Your final piece might have a similar shape to how you imagined it initially, or you might discover that you created an entirely different narrative.
You must enthrall your readers, bring them into the experience themselves, make them feel as if they both have a sense of what is inevitable but still don’t know—until you tell them—exactly how it ends. And the ending must seem inevitable, even if it is surprising. Any excellent work lets us know not only when a piece is finished but also delivers us the genuine and palpable satisfaction of an ending.
Of course, you can also rely on a good editor to help you know when it’s time to stop.