Hopelessly devoted: on commitment in editing relationships
Allow me to immediately tell on myself—I’ve been completely sucked in to Netflix’s latest “reality” tv offering. For the past two weeks, while my partner has been away, The Ultimatum: Queer Love has had me in a chokehold. Performative and cringeworthy? Check. Probably scripted? Most definitely.
But there’s something about the threat of unrequited love that glues me to the screen. That, and the promise of a big reveal after the participants (and the producers) have put each other through the ringer for three weeks straight.
Much like the eager ultimatum-givers on the show, I have my own views about commitment. More specifically—how any good editing relationship requires lots of it, even in the face of apathy or confusion.
‘Even if authors have great control over their manuscripts, a good editor is one who is committed and engaged: when publishing, you’re getting married, not dating. It’s a long, interactive relationship’ — Amy Einhorn, President and Publisher, Henry Holt & Company.
While working on a recent editing project, I was struck by how much I was trying to sell myself in the first meeting with the author. It was like a first date: there were sweaty palms, pressured speech, and I remember apologising for rambling at least three times.
I wanted to be liked, sure. I also wanted the project to go well for the both of us, to prove my skills as an emerging editor. But mostly I wanted them to feel that they could trust me with their work.
After the initial meeting, there were plans to catch up again soon. I’d offered some suggestions on how I could help with the project, thoughts on developing the narrative, and how the editing process usually worked. We were both smiling as we ended the Zoom call; I felt confident we were going to dive right into edits in the coming days. The draft copy would be done in no time.
It was a surprise, then, when the wheels on the partnership started to buckle. They didn’t fall off entirely, but a wave of rescheduled meetings and last-minute cancellations made it hard to feel the momentum.
Was it something I said? Did I go too hard with suggestions, seem like I was taking over the story? Was I doing a Vanessa and coming on too strong?
In another life I might’ve taken the change in engagement personally. Thankfully, in our university editing classes we’d spoken about boundaries and communication:
‘So perhaps the best thing you can learn here is how to invest without over investing, or under investing…keep on checking in with yourself and with other people. Change your expectations through the project, depending on the progress — recalibrate along the way. Maintain your cool and your focus’ -Melissa Cranenburgh, Professional Writing and Editing teacher at RMIT.
Right. Maintain cool and focus. It’s normal for motivation to wax and wane throughout a project—I’d definitely been known to procrasti-clean my entire house instead of working on a deadline, or to avoid responding to emails thanks to panic paralysis. We’re also human, and life can get in the way.
This wasn’t a reality show or Tinder session; I couldn’t unmatch my author or throw a tantrum. Instead, I could do as Amy Einhorn suggests and treat the situation as a marriage.
I could keep showing up even when the other person was having trouble engaging. I could choose to remain committed, while adjusting my expectations of what we could achieve in the time we had left together.
Putting ego aside meant I could get on with the work I’d been excited about in that first meeting, while adapting to the author’s pace. There were opportunities to do ghostwriting, be bold with developmental edits, and learn about using image captions to deepen a narrative.
Adjusting my expectations also meant letting go of visions of a perfect copyedit with beautifully-executed Track Changes. Full disclosure: we ran out of time. Instead, there was just enough time to perfect the introduction and nail some really nice captions for the gorgeous images my project partner had produced.
Did the editing journey look like I had originally thought it was supposed to? No, not really. But did it feel meaningful and worthwhile? Absolutely.
Despite differing levels of devotion at times, we still got our big reveal: the piece of art we made together.
