They say you should never look back. I think maybe they’re right.
A couple of days ago I was between books: just finished a Reginald Hill, hadn’t quite decided whether to save the new Mark Billingham for holiday reading, and if so, which of the other dozen on the pile to embark on next.
So I idly reached for one of the early titles from my publishing career; they’re all lined up on some bookshelves right by my favourite armchair, the one I stretch out on to immerse myself in the current reading matter, so I only had to put out a hand.
If I was into self-flagellation I’d be counting the bruises.
Don’t get me wrong: I have absolutely no regrets about a single title I published. At least, not about the content. Thirteen brilliant authors; thirty-four brilliant novels. Absolutely none of what follows reflects in any way badly on what they produced.
But oh, what a learning curve I followed.
My excuse is that I went into publishing from a point of no knowledge whatsoever. Well, OK, I knew you took a pile of manuscript, got someone to make a cover for it, sent it to a printer and hoped people would buy it. But the rookiest of rookie authors knows that, and one thing I learned very quickly it was how little authors know about publishing. (And before any passing author jumps on my head, remember that’s where I came from – aspiring author crosses to the dark side sums up the early days quite neatly.)
Flicking the pages of this early title, which shall remain nameless lest I embarrass the author with my admission of incompetence, I discovered how little I knew about the process I was most closely involved in: editing. Not the major stuff, the to-and-fro, give-and-take which pares away the bits that slow the pace and stitches up the occasional hole in the plot; I like to think I was always OK at that. I’m talking about the fine detail: the copy-editing which now forms a large part of my working week. The making sure spellings are consistent, that house style is adhered to, that punctuation hasn’t gone missing, that the hero’s eyes don’t change from blue to brown, and aren’t green at all.
I settled down to read the early title (well, it was a great read, and seven years on I’d almost forgotten how it ended), and found myself wincing, at my own incompetence you understand, about twice per page for the first fifty pages.
I remembered a conversation with two experienced editors who took on the titles I didn’t have time for. We need some ground rules, they said; s or z spelling for words ending in –ize/ise; OK or okay; double or single quote marks around dialogue; that kind of thing. Do what you think best, I replied insouciantly. No, they insisted; you have to decide.
They were right, of course. House style needs to be consistent.
I decided. OK, not okay; –ise endings to keep it simple. Double quote marks. A long list of other possibly insignificant details.
And what did I find in those first fifty pages? Okay on every page. Civilized, and several other
–izes.
The quote marks were fine. I suppose one out of three isn’t bad for a beginner, and I promise I got better. These days I even copy-edit MSN conversations with my daughter; and I once offended one reviewer who thought jail should be spelled gaol in an 18th century mystery – but by then we’d spelled it jail in a couple of dozen books, and your friendly neighbourhood copy-editor (moi, I’m afraid, as I’m sure you gathered, for all thirty-four) had got the hang of consistency.
Now, where was I going with this rambling diatribe, apart from a bit of belated self-flagellation? Oh yes, I remember. The trouble with becoming ever more meticulous about consistent copy-editing is you start to notice it in other people’s books. At least, you notice when it’s less than meticulous. And there’s a lot of it about in these straitened times when the final polish has fallen victim to sinking sales figures. Favourite is a mix of –ise and –ize – and I don’t just mean the borderline words. I recently found realise spelled both ways within a couple of chapters. Most people probably wouldn’t even notice. Unfortunately for me, I do.
And the moral of today’s sad tale is this: don’t take up copy-editing if you don’t want to be picky about what you read.
At least you DID get better!
This made me smile 'don’t take up copy-editing if you don’t want to be picky about what you read.' Much the same could be said of writing :)
Posted by: Sarah | April 20, 2011 at 09:45 AM