A Meerkat's Bolthole

I was so bored and so in need of distraction last night, I actually watched a Batman movie. The second one, I think. With DeVito as the Penguin. And Pfeiffer as Catwoman. They got the noir down right, anyway.

"Normal guys always let you down. Sickos don't scare me. At least they're committed"

Middlin' horrible movie. Great lines.
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Woke up this morning to not one but two felines staring me in the face and uttering very definite "mom we're huuuuuuuungry" noises. Boomer always claims that, but when Pandora gets that way, it's time to feed her or risk getting chunks taken out of my leg while she circles...
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Today, once my wordage is out of the way, is All About the Client. I have a pile of pages begging to be marked-up and abused for its own good.

I haven't done any hardcore editing for a while. It's both a pleasure (I'm good at this, it's a familiar skin to wear) and a pain (but I wanna wriiiiiiiiite!). I used to think that the ideal mix would be 50/50, then I went to 75/25 in favor of the writing. Now I'm not so sure. They're dissimilar skills overlapping a common product, and a good writer is not guaranteed to be a good editor, and versa vice. So using them both is good for me, not only to keep both sides of my brain in working shape, but because it keeps me honest.

Y'see, I can't tell myself something crappy is brilliant, if my editor-brain is awake and alert. But -- more importantly for me - I also can't get down on myself and say that it sucks if it doesn't. The editor-brain is my sanity: it keeps me from going to either writer-extreme of euphoria or dismals over anything I've written. That keeps me sommat balanced, and allows the writing a chance to escape to other readers for an impartial evaluation.

So the editor-brain is useful, and to be cultivated, maybe closer to 60/40 if I can swing it. It's also a right pain in the arse. But that's sort of in the definition of 'editor' -- right next to "not always right, but enough so to be annoying."


And now there is coffee, and a manuscript, and sharpened pencils cooing my name....

This is not a rant, or a lecture, or anything other than me, thinking out loud. Except with fewer parenthetical asides than I usually use when thinking out loud (yes, I really do asides to myself, doesn't everyone?)


The manuscript I am currently editing is a perfectly workable book. It is well-written, if not brilliant, with a sense of verve and joy that is essential (to me) in genre work, no matter what the genre (this happens to be romantic suspense).

What it also has, I regret to say, is obvious roots, in the "you weren't always a blonde, were you?" way.

In fact, without much thought or effort, I was able to determine exactly what media basis the characters and plot-line were lifted from inspired by (and no, I'm not going to tell you.).

Now, there is no shame in filing off serial numbers and reusing something. Shakespeare did it, fer chrissake. I bet the second storyteller in the world did it. Hell, we all do it on a daily basis, when we retell something that we heard from someone else, if we put our own spin on it (instead of Jews, the punchline becomes Baptists, etc). And gods above, below and the devils in Hollywood know that media tie-in writers do it all the time, when a proposal is rejected for one show or another.

But there is a fine art to filing. You can't just scratch a quarter inch off the surface and assume everything's hunky dory. It may be enough to keep you from being sued, but it doesn't make the story yours.

And really, if the story's not yours, why are you telling it?

Example. I had a proposal in for the now deader-than-dead "Serenity" books. It was a good, fun proposal, tailored specifically for Jayne and Kaylee to have their chance in the spotlight.

It will never, now, see the light of day. Starring Jayne and Kaylee and the rest of the crew, anyway.

But the main story? The caper itself, featuring a wide-eyed naif and a crook with a heart of tin and the morals of a sieve? The planet, with its particular alien life forms and criminal code? That's still got a chance. Someday. If I can find not only the right file to remove all traces of Joss Whedon from the characters, but the right enamel and paint to redress the new vehicle in.

Because 'filing' isn't just about taking away. It's about adding something special, something distinctly your own, to the material. Enough so that nobody except those who are looking really hard can see those roots showing through.


Interestingly enough, this is something that often trips up fanficcers when they try to go pro: they're so used to mimicking an existing voice (and doing it damned well, oftimes) that they never learn how to create their own characters (the reason why OCs are so reviled in fanfic. Not because the idea is a bad one, but because it's not done well, see: 'Mary Sue'). Anyone reading this who wants to go pro from fan, LEARN WHO IS IN YOUR OWN HEAD, and how to let them out. Essential. Yes.


That's all I got.

*sigh* I just hit a whopper of a SftSoP in the line edit. One of the major characters knows something -- something that's very important to the storyline. His job requires him to share his fact. He doesn't.

Okay, there are ways of handling that. He's not sure it's a valid fact (distrusts the source). He is obsessed with a theory that this evidence contradicts. He is trying to keep it from being known, in order to set a trap. Any of those would work -- but the author doesn't do any of those things. Instead, we simply see him thinking 'fact A doesn't fit with the theory.' The opportunity to establish character motivation and plot complexity bypassed, and instead we have a weakness in the book.

*peels post-it off pad, tags it onto page in question, moves on*

As many of you know, I also do some freelance editorial work. Some of it's directly for publishers. Some of it's directly for authors who are under contract but don't feel they're getting the proper ass-kicking they need in-house. Some of it's directly for unpublished writers who feel they need another, more experienced eye to help them get in the door.

The first kind of project is, well, work. I have no emotional investment in the project, as a rule, and no financial interest beyond the paycheck. They get my full professional attention, and then they go back in-house. Refreshing, really, and I quite enjoy it.

The second kind is, honestly, my favorite -- emotional involvement, because the writer came to me and said "I need your specific skills, I respect you, I know you can make me better." I give them everything I've got, same as I did when I was acquiring and editing. And, yes, I get paid.

The third kind... can be wonderful. I have some clients who were a joy to work with, who -- even if in the end they didn't reach their goal of nabbing a contract, took something more than a polished manuscript away with them: they learned and knew they had learned, and were willing to build on that, to go forward. And some clients have gotten agency representation, or nibbles on the book, and that's a real joy, too.

Some of them have been... in a word, nightmares. I've been treated like a servant, I've been stiffed fees, and I've been told, flat-out, that it was MY fault the book didn't get an immediate offer from the next editor they sent it to. And every time I get one of those clients I say -- that's it, no more. Life's too short and why am I putting myself through this, anyway?

But then I get an e-mail query, and I think "maybe this one will be one of the good ones..."


So when, after spending time reading over a sample of work, and making notes to discuss with a potential client (about 45 minutes of prep work, unpaid) I then spend half an hour on the phone with that potential client, only to get a very clear message that said P.C. is merely pumping me for everything s/he can get, and has no intention of hiring me, or paying me for the work already done...

I'm annoyed. Bigtime. Not every client I talk to hires me, no. And some I send on their way, because I wouldn't be able to help them. But the time was still spent, the effort made, at the expense of other things I might have been doing.

Sure enough, time goes by after "thanks, I'll get back to you" and there's nothing. Not a thank-you for taking the time, but no-thanks e-mail, even.



So here's a hint, to everyone who writes, who wants to write, who is beloved by or related to anyone who writes: courtesy won't win you any book deals. But it clears a lot of debris out of the way as you slog forward. Use people if you must, but compensate them for that use, even if it's just to say 'thank you, I appreciated your time and effort.' Books have acknowledgement pages for exactly that purpose.

Cookies and/or drinks at the next conference you're both at are also acceptable and long-established IOU payments.