Every author has a story to tell. Every author has a burning
desire to tell it. Not every author tells the story very well. The author
could, I’m sure. But in the frantic, fast-paced, hectic, and frenzied world of
indie publishing, authors are far too eager to see their well-chosen words
birthed alive and well on a Kindle somewhere.
Too often, they collect assorted words and assemble them in
no particular order. They create sentences, then paragraphs, and finally
chapters. They tack three hundred pages together, more or less. They slap on
that final period.
And off the manuscript goes to some company who will format
anything they receive, with a fee attached, and stick it on Amazon. The author has a book. But is it a good book? Maybe.
The author may have crafted a dynamic story line, created a
tantalizing plot, interwoven a series of brilliantly conceived subplots, and
hammered together an ending that might well be talked about for a long time.
But still, I ask, is it a good book? A really good book?
In their haste, the author may have overlooked, ignored, or
bypassed his or her most important and valuable asset: the editor. A good
editor can turn trash into gold. Editors are magicians. Editors correct your
mistakes. Editors make sure your words are spelled correctly, that commas are
where they belong, that tenses are accurate and consistent. Editors can turn a
bad book into a good book. In the old days, a year or so ago, authors were frustrated
because they believed that agents and publishers in the publishing maven of New
York were conspiring against them and preventing their novels from ever seeing
the light of day. And they might have been right.
New York was a barrier they could not break down. Then came
digital publishing. Then came the eBook revolution. And the publishing mavens
of New York were no longer needed. Then again, maybe they were.
Sure the big boys with access to the big presses in New York
had their faults. They published a few books. They didn’t really market any of
them unless the author had a name like Tom Clancy, John Grisham, Danielle
Steele, or James Patterson. There was little or no money left to build the
reputations of new authors. I once read that a typical New York Publisher
produced 300 titles a year and hoped seven of them would sell enough copies to
earn the company a profit and pay off the losses on the other two hundred and
ninety-three books.
In reality, unknown authors were running solo then. They
still are.
In reality, indie authors still have to handle their own
marketing. But then, even if they do find a publisher – in New York or anywhere
else – they are responsible for being in charge of their own marketing.
It’s just that New York Publishers sent every manuscript across
the desk of an editor or team of editors. The book, the story line, the plot, the
pacing the spelling, and the punctuation, was scrutinized, changed, revised,
and polished until it was viewed, if nothing else, as quality literature. It
might not sell. But it was done right.
So many new indie books are missing the handiwork and
craftsmanship of a good, strong editor, someone who knows a good story and,
more importantly, knows how it should be told. For some reason, I was always been infatuated with Thomas
Wolfe, who, I know, wrote long, convoluted sentences and would have never
passed muster in today’s style of brief, concise, high impact writing.
I loved his style. I loved his passion. I loved the emotion
he could embed into every sentence. Then, not long ago, I found out that Thomas
Wolfe wrote wonderful fragments but very few novels. Not on his own anyway.
He was a genius. Thomas Wolfe could have easily been ignored
as a tarnished genius. But Thomas Wolfe had an editor. Wolfe had been writing
for a few years on a novel and believed he was still a year away from
completing the manuscript when death struck him down. His editor, Edward
Aswell, sat down and began thumbing through the two bundles of paper.
Wolfe had left him a few chapters that had been completed.
Some were in rough draft, some in partial draft. Many of the sections had not
yet been typed. They had been merely handwritten in Wolfe’s typical scrawl, and
Aswell had to guess at some of the penciled words. He discovered that the leading character in the
book had at least six different names. Some chapters were written in first
person, some in third person. In part of the book, the protagonist had several
brothers and sisters. In other sections, he was an only child.
There were stories. There were fragment of stories. There
were fragments of sentences. In addition, Aswell was concerned because the
manuscript was far too large, containing at least ten times more pages than the
traditional novel. No one, he reasoned would ever wade through so much gray type.
So the editor made a command decision. There was no one left or around to
debate him. Aswell, being the word magi, turned the manuscript into two
novels: The Web and the Rock and You Can’t Go Home Again.
Both would be remembered as part of Thomas Wolfe’s lasting
legacy. Through the years, there have been whispered rumors that after You Can’t Go Home Again had been
published, Wolfe was never again welcomed into his hometown of Asheville, North
Carolina. Maybe not. He didn’t need to
be welcomed back. He was already buried there.
We would not have had these two classic Thomas Wolfe novels
at all. Or if we did, they would have no doubt been unreadable.
But Thomas Wolfe had an editor.
Every author needs one.
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CategoriesGuest BlogsShooting Star The Carnival In My Mind THE CRIMINAL MIND |
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