Spoor of the elusive ‘wild editor’
∴
Since it is July, I find myself taking on a new project. Is it because of some crazy, NaNoWriMo thing? Is it peer pressure? Is it the fact that my life is spiraling out of control and the one measurable thing I can cling to in this life is my work? A little of all of that, I guess. Like many writers, I do this because I cannot stop doing it. Neither words of advice nor reproachful looks can keep me away. Something, something, a fool to his folly…
I read. A lot, but in fits and starts. It is as if I forget that I’m addicted to words and fall into healthful habits, only to fall off the wagon and hang out with the wrong crowd again. And again. I’m omnivorous when it comes to my written media. I won’t turn my nose up at comic books, graphic novels, magazines, or even those free local papers. Fiction, non-fiction, anti-fiction, weird religious tracts – I’ll check it out, thanks. It is supposed to make you a better writer, after all. Even if you’re like me and write like your brain is on fire. Yeah, other people’s words are like fuel into the furnace.
I was reading through Donald Westlake’s ‘Thieve’s Dozen‘ – a lighthearted collection of short stories, all about his hapless thief, Dortmunder. I love Westlake’s work – especially his more hard-edged Parker books – and these stories make me happy. But my pleasant foray into the humorous criminal underbelly of NYC was sabotaged by the evidence of a previous reader. Take a look at the embedded picture, above. I highlighted the areas in red, but the marks should be clear: EDITS.
What kind of maniacal, workaholic editor would do such a thing? The chutzpah! The brass! The unmitigated, tenacious gall! You can add your own outraged comments below, if you like. I just can’t understand this. Now, I’ve seen lots of marks in books before. People make notes in the margins, or highlight a passage, and it never bothers me. But THIS? This is the literary equivalent to shouting warnings at the screen during a movie. (TIP: the people in the movie can’t hear you) And this wasn’t a galley copy or advanced proof. It was just a run of the mill used book. I want to track down this wild editor and shake ‘em by their lapels. I want to roar at them, berate, and belittle them. “It’s too late to edit it now! The ship has sailed, my friend! It is in the hands of the public now! Let it go! Let. It. Go.”
But I know I will never find them. Even if I could, my words would not win them over. That editor is on a dark, dangerous path – mark my words. When you run out of your own material to work on – when you lack the common sense of restraint to stay your hand – the work of others is not safe. It gives me chills, just thinking about it.
And of course it’s made worse because those edits don’t make any sense! You fool! Westlake knew what the hell he was doing! Argh! The temerity! The jejune impudence! (did I use impudence yet?) The meretricious and sloppy patchwork of artless nudges! BAH! I say again, BAH.
<> <> <>
Have you ever encountered this kind of thing? A sort of unsolicited, ‘wild edit’ in the real world? My curiosity is piqued – almost as much as my ire is raised.
