Suggest, Edit, Vanish.
I am currently half way through the latest non-fiction work by Pulitzer Prize winning author Annie Jacobsen, Surprise, Kill, Vanish. The book details the shadowy history of United States espionage and CIA covert operations, the title drawn from the agency’s unofficial motto. Reading Surprise, Kill, Vanish while concurrently working as an editor of a photobook, I began to notice similarities between the hidden figures behind CIA-sponsored black ops and those of us working as (and aspiring to be) editors. It’s a bit of a long bow to draw, but stay with me.
Black Ops (Black Operations) are missions whose objectives are not presented to US Congress for a vote of approval, nor are they presented to American citizens in any fashion. These missions are deemed critically important to the safety of the US, its government and its citizens but cannot be disclosed for varying reasons. The men and women who undertake these vital but secret missions do so in the shadows, knowing they will never be acknowledged, thanked or rewarded by their country.
While some of these missions are dubious at best, it would be hard to argue that countless innocent lives have been saved, wars averted and disasters contained. Not all espionage and black ops personnel make it home safe and many never return at all. Those that do return disappear back into the shadows to await the next crucial mission, aware that nobody will ever know their name or what they did. History will never acknowledge them, let alone forget them … welcome to the world of editing!
In no way am I proposing that the role of the editor is quite as important to world affairs (or as risky) as anything detailed above, but there are parallels to be sure. For instance, no one enters the world of editing believing that it is going to put their name in lights or that they are going to be lauded by the (literary) masses.
In fact, during the introductory editing class of the PWE (Professional Writing and Editing) program at RMIT, it was drilled into our heads that the editor often remains anonymous and sometimes receives very little thanks (or none at all). Those of us that desire to be editors do so because we have not only a passion for literature but also a strong desire to help others achieve the best possible outcome in their creative endeavours (from photobooks to non-fiction and fiction novels).
Suggest
While our aim is to guide the author to the best possible outcome for their project, it is rarely a simple task. Just like the employment of Black ops measures, or really any kind of espionage tactics, the author/editor relationship walks a fine line between diplomacy and aggression.
As an editor it is our duty to understand that an author is handing over an incredibly personal creation to be put under a microscope, picked at and critiqued. Any kind of criticism of a personal creative work is likely to sting, especially for an author who has never been edited before. There is a certain push and pull between editor and author that is both necessary and fragile. One overly aggressive move on the editor’s part could bring the entire mission to a disastrous conclusion.
On occasion an editor’s suggestions are taken on board straight away. The author can instantly see the merit in the suggestion and is happy to implement it. Other times, more assertive measures are needed. In these cases, an aversion of conflict and an openness to your suggestions ultimately comes down to one thing: trust.
Just as if you were to find yourself on a covert mission deep within a South American jungle or in a sand-blasted patch of nowhere in the Syrian desert, you would want to have an unwavering trust in your fellow operatives. Without trust, the entire relationship can easily fall apart. Trust is earned by the way you approach the author and their project. Being prepared, and listening to the author’s ideas and goals, coupled with a degree of friendliness, is a good start. However, being confident in your abilities, knowing what is best for the project without forcing your opinions and knowing when to be assertive and when to back off will ultimately make or break the relationship.
Edit
The job we undertake (though not exactly a matter of national security) is incredibly important and, while we may not be thanked for it, the end result has our fingerprints all over it. Actually, our fingerprints are nowhere to be seen and therein lies the true skill of the editor.
Once we have gained the author’s trust, our next objective is to make sure that the author’s work remains the author’s work. While we may share (and sometimes match) the angst and passion of the authors themselves, we as the editor must never once try to gain authority over the work. The author’s voice should be theirs alone. Once it is all said and done, if the desirable outcome has been achieved, it is like we were never there.
If the mission is successful, the finished product presents a seamless reading experience. There are no spelling errors, no grammar missteps, there is no unnecessary or confusing content. The artist’s vision is crystal clear and, to the reader at least, was never in doubt. The author marches out into the world a competent and conquering hero. The finished piece works its way onto the book shelves of the world and into the hands of the readers. Our job is done, our mission is complete.
Vanish
For weeks (and sometimes months) we work hand in hand with the author, exchanging emails, texts, phone calls and even meeting up face to face to brainstorm and discuss ideas. We are allowed into their creative world, their passions and their hopes. A relationship is formed and then one day, just as quickly as it began, it’s over. Just like that, the project has been achieved and our goal is accomplished. There is a void within us that springs from the sudden disappearance of a close connection to both the work and the person behind it. Such is the role of the editor. Our mission is now over. We disappear back into the shadows and await the next assignment.
