How to Deal With a Nightmare Edit
There’s an adage that a camel is a horse designed by a committee. And, well, you might say that a magazine article is literature designed by a committee. Usually, the collaboration between editor and writer works out just fine. But every so often, you wind up with the camel.
After 15 years of freelancing and working smoothly with dozens and dozens of editors, it was finally the day of the dromedary. I pitched an article to a great outlet I wanted to write for … and my luck ran out.
Now, I should add up front that having worked as both a writer and magazine editor, I love the editorial process and the value of a solid collaboration. If anything, I let too much slide. I hate conflict and am largely a wimp. I’m overly polite. I’ve been mistaken for being a kindly Canadian.
But as a career writer, your byline is all you’ve got—and so you better defend its honor when you’re chosen for trial by editorial combat.
What do you do when an editor takes your piece and nukes it, rewrites chunks of it in a different voice, introduces facts that are incorrect, makes use of personal pronouns on your behalf, and publishes it without giving you a glimpse?
After trying (and failing) to convince yourself that “you’ll laugh about this someday!” you get to work.
Here’s a guide—for both nonfiction and fiction writers—to corralling that fateful camel, should it ever come marauding into your literary livelihood.
1. Process the Process
First things first: It’s key to understand the essential editorial process so you can discern between basic edits and their more vexing counterparts. In a nutshell, for a print or website article, after you flesh out the idea with your editor and turn in a draft, the editor will assess the copy and offer suggestions, questions readers may be wondering, and so on, which they’ll then kick back to you. After you address the revisions, you’ll send it back to the editor, who may do additional rounds of said back and forth until you both arrive at the final copy, with the editor cleaning up routine surface-level things like grammatical errors, awkward phrasing, and similar items in the process. Book publishers can vary in their approach but tend to follow a similar method.
The heavy-handedness of any given editor varies by person. I’ve known editors who put on a butcher’s apron, turn Track Changes and heavy metal on, and leave words screaming in horror-movie fashion. I’ve known others who prefer not to touch anything outside of objective grammatical fixes, leaving it to the writer to make any requested tweaks (even the comically minute). If an editor does any substantial overhauling, rearranging, or rephrasing, they’ll usually give the writer a look at the result to avoid factual errors.
Usually, the process is symbiotic. After all, the writer and editor have the same goal: a great story. When I was a full-time editor, I was asked on a panel at a writing conference if I had an editorial philosophy, a guiding principle. I went full Hippocrates: Do no harm. Most editors would agree.
2. Watch for the Warning Signs
If my guard had been up, I’d have heard the camels grunting in the distance as they made a beeline for my Google Doc. First, the editor proposed a completely different concept than I had pitched. Which is fine! I’ve asked countless writers to adjust their pitches to fit a particular audience or thematic issue. Problem was, the editor wanted this entire article to be based on a one-sentence headline he had written and I had slightly tweaked … which leaves room for a gulf of miscommunication and misinterpretation. Next, the examples he sent were all over the map … and didn’t seem to provide a logical guide for what the piece should be. Third, responses to emails were days, and sometimes weeks, apart—not uncommon for a busy editor. But also indicative of an editor who doesn’t have a wealth of time to spend on any given article, and maybe hasn’t truly thought this piece through.
Do what I didn’t: Solidify and clarify everything up front in writing. Ask every question. And don’t be afraid to take the piece elsewhere if you don’t like the answers you’re getting back—or if you’re not getting answers. Mind your intuition—and don’t throw caution to the wind simply because you want a new byline in your bio (guilty as charged!).
3. Melt Down
I waited for further communiques from my editor … and then I noticed a Google Alert for my name. A surprise: The piece was live! Confused but excited, I hopped online … and discovered the issues mentioned above, and then some.
This exact scenario likely won’t ever happen to you, but this advice applies to any edit at any stage of the process: This is the part where you’re allowed to spiral. Belt out a few expletives. Have a day drink! If you have the luxury of doing so, indulge in some retail therapy or blow off work for the rest of the afternoon and go for an expansive dog walk. It’s cathartic—and it’s also critical to getting to the next step. The most important thing: Do not impulsively reach out to your editor at this moment. The key is to first drain the emotion from the conversation.
4. Write It Out
We’re all writers here. So, write it out! Deconstruct what’s wrong with the piece. Write down every single thing that bothers you about it, without paying attention to the veracity or egregiousness of any given item—yet. When you have your list compiled, ranging from grammatical errors that have accidentally been introduced to verbiage that simply does not align with your voice, begin to organize your grievances. I structured mine into four buckets: Factual Errors, Stylistic/Phrasing Issues, Personal Preference Quirks, Me Being a Diva—with the level of urgency following those tiers. Since there was an array of issues in the first two columns, I decided to focus on addressing those and let the more nitpicky items go. Seeing everything laid out on paper will give you objectivity and perspective.
5. Pencil in Another Writer
As you’re going about this process (especially if you have an infusion of Catholic guilt and the Midwestern people-pleasing gene, as I do), you’ll likely begin to wonder if the edit is really as bad as you think it is, or if you’ve just gotten too far into your own head. It’s a fair question—so confidentially consult a trusted writer friend. If they want to help you out, give them a recap of the correspondence, the comments and notes on the draft of the piece, and the final result. Ask them to be candid with you and provide a reality check.
Most importantly: As you’re going through all of this, do not feel bad. You’re advocating for yourself and your work. Our words live forever on the web—and we must empower ourselves to fight for them.
6. Choose Your Adventure
As a writer, I absolutely hate talking on the phone—but freely acknowledge that most people are better at it than me. On the page is where I feel most in control, and that is a huge asset here (you also have the boon of a paper trail). So, select the communication method that will allow you to be your most effective, then draft the talking points or your email. Be explicit and clear about what changes you’re requesting.
Before hitting send or making the call, think through different scenarios. Again: You don’t want to be reactionary. When it comes down to it, the editing world is a small place, and most editors are well-connected. I thought through my reaction for: a) a measured response; b) an angry response; and c) a nonresponse.
I’d decided that if he would make the targeted tweaks I had requested to make the piece factually correct and better overall, I could live with it. If he wouldn’t, I’d move on to more aggressive options (more on that in a moment).
“Solidify and clarify everything up front in writing. Ask every question. And don’t be afraid to take the piece elsewhere if you don’t like the answers you’re getting back—or if you’re not getting answers.” —Zachary Petit
Writer’s Digest
7. Don’t Get Greedy
When I sent my email requesting tweaks, I got an immediate reply … though it was one I had not prepped for: a vacation out-of-office. After I collected the pieces of my exploded head from various points around the house, I regrouped and again recentered.
Ultimately, to my immense relief, the publication was open to the tweaks. I considered getting greedy and venturing into more changes … but decided to stop while I was ahead. As a former editor, I know how writers can take a thread and keep pulling and pulling until it spins into a living document. So with the goals I’d outlined fulfilled, I called it a day.
8. Consider the Nuclear Option (Carefully)
Had things not worked out, I was prepared for the nuclear option: asking them to either take my name off the piece, or to take it down. I’ve never had to go to such an extreme in my career. The most important thing to consider: Can you live with a prospective future editor discovering the piece and judging your work based on it? Had I pursued the nuclear option, I’d have done so as professionally as any other interaction. And that’s key: It’s business. Edits are rarely malicious. In all likelihood, my editor was probably rushing to get pieces scheduled before he headed out on vacation.
9. Foolproof Yourself for the Future
The biggest takeaway: As writers, we shouldn’t take any part of the editorial process for granted. For example: If I really ripped into someone’s piece at a magazine (and I have, many times!), I’d send them a galley for review—mainly because I didn’t want to blindside them, but also to make sure I hadn’t damaged anything. Going forward, I’m going to ask, in writing, for a cursory glimpse of the piece before publication—which would have prevented this entire episode from happening.
*****
Editing is a painfully subjective game, and there is no Standardized Operating Procedure or code of conduct. My editor likely believed he was making the piece better. In an ideal world, the key to solving a clash of opinions with an editor is often a matter of mindset—calmly working with them to split the difference, and knowing when to shake hands and call it a day. Some editors you’ll get along with marvelously. Others, the best thing you can do is bid thanks and well-wishes, hop on your camel, and go your separate way (deploying your middle finger only if it’s part of a peace sign).
In the end, I may have only been able to iron out the humps of my camel a tiny bit—but hey, I’ve been chuckling the whole time I’ve been writing this. As it turns out, I would indeed laugh about it someday.
Do you remember the difference between the 8 parts of speech and how to use them? Are you comfortable with punctuation and mechanics? No matter what type of writing you do, mastering the fundamentals of grammar and mechanics is an important first step to having a successful writing career.
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