I’m finalizing edits with the editor at EDGE Publishing (I won’t identify her in full here to preserve her privacy, but we’ll call her K for convenience) and the process has been whittled down to little changes or suggestions (in some cases, we’re literally talking about comma/conjunction or semicolon). K has been diligent and professional in her edits, and I hope I have responded in kind.
Many of the edits seem to be stylistic or syntactic: rearranging a sentence here, moving a prepositional phrase, etc. But I just ran into one that was more substantive and hadn’t been included in her earlier edits.
It would be nigh impossible to explain fully the nature of the suggestion K gave me without several pages of explanation (and, for that matter, some spoilers), so I will speak more generally about the editing process.
I found myself reacting very forcefully to her edit, because I thought it undermined one of the main character’s growth and strength. The change, as I say, was quite small–imagine a story about a person being blackmailed who initially agrees to the blackmailer’s demands but then reverses course and successfully double-crosses the blackmailers. In my original draft, our blackmailing victim only PRETENDED to go along with the blackmailers but ALWAYS had a plan to turn the tables on them. This isn’t what happens, but it is loosely analogous to my story. It may seem small and inconsequential–after all, the result was the same and was arrived at in a virtually identical manner–but in the original draft the so-called “victim” was unwavering in their position. There was never a doubt as to their state of mind, their strength, their resolve. Yes, the readers themselves were tricked, but the reveal that the victim always held the upper hand as opposed to found a way to get the upper hand is an important difference.
At least, it is to me.
The character has been developing more and more into a fully independent person who shows loyalty because they want to as opposed to being obligated to. In his relationship with the other main character, there is nothing transactional: they both love one another without regard to what they are owed in return. It seems to me that relationships built on mutual love and respect are the strongest–and when that love and respect comes from a sincere place, a very real desire to see one’s partner thrive…well. At the risk of being judgmental, I’d call that real love.
That’s why I find the scene from Citizen Kane to be so powerful. In case you don’t know to what I am referring, here you go:
LELAND: You talk about the people as though you own them. As though they belong to you…You just want to persuade people you love ‘em so much that they ought to love you back. Only you want love on your own terms. Something to be played your way according to your rules.
KANE: A toast, Jedediah, to love on my terms. Those are the only terms anybody ever knows - his own.
And that’s the real tragedy of Charles Foster Kane’s life, it seems to me. He cannot live–cannot even conceive–of a pure relationship that isn’t transactional, that isn’t a quid pro quo. In my story, I’m trying to set up that my two main characters love one another not because they are obligated to, or because they feel they “owe” the other. They love one another because they genuinely care. And, small as it may seem, the little edit K suggested chips away ever so slightly at that, and I can’t have it.
I hope this made sense–it sure seems like counting angels on the head of the pin (look it up), but it matters to me.
Be seeing you!
Many of the edits seem to be stylistic or syntactic: rearranging a sentence here, moving a prepositional phrase, etc. But I just ran into one that was more substantive and hadn’t been included in her earlier edits.
It would be nigh impossible to explain fully the nature of the suggestion K gave me without several pages of explanation (and, for that matter, some spoilers), so I will speak more generally about the editing process.
I found myself reacting very forcefully to her edit, because I thought it undermined one of the main character’s growth and strength. The change, as I say, was quite small–imagine a story about a person being blackmailed who initially agrees to the blackmailer’s demands but then reverses course and successfully double-crosses the blackmailers. In my original draft, our blackmailing victim only PRETENDED to go along with the blackmailers but ALWAYS had a plan to turn the tables on them. This isn’t what happens, but it is loosely analogous to my story. It may seem small and inconsequential–after all, the result was the same and was arrived at in a virtually identical manner–but in the original draft the so-called “victim” was unwavering in their position. There was never a doubt as to their state of mind, their strength, their resolve. Yes, the readers themselves were tricked, but the reveal that the victim always held the upper hand as opposed to found a way to get the upper hand is an important difference.
At least, it is to me.
The character has been developing more and more into a fully independent person who shows loyalty because they want to as opposed to being obligated to. In his relationship with the other main character, there is nothing transactional: they both love one another without regard to what they are owed in return. It seems to me that relationships built on mutual love and respect are the strongest–and when that love and respect comes from a sincere place, a very real desire to see one’s partner thrive…well. At the risk of being judgmental, I’d call that real love.
That’s why I find the scene from Citizen Kane to be so powerful. In case you don’t know to what I am referring, here you go:
LELAND: You talk about the people as though you own them. As though they belong to you…You just want to persuade people you love ‘em so much that they ought to love you back. Only you want love on your own terms. Something to be played your way according to your rules.
KANE: A toast, Jedediah, to love on my terms. Those are the only terms anybody ever knows - his own.
And that’s the real tragedy of Charles Foster Kane’s life, it seems to me. He cannot live–cannot even conceive–of a pure relationship that isn’t transactional, that isn’t a quid pro quo. In my story, I’m trying to set up that my two main characters love one another not because they are obligated to, or because they feel they “owe” the other. They love one another because they genuinely care. And, small as it may seem, the little edit K suggested chips away ever so slightly at that, and I can’t have it.
I hope this made sense–it sure seems like counting angels on the head of the pin (look it up), but it matters to me.
Be seeing you!
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