(Crossposted from Blogetary 2.0.)
When
Putt Putt Productions was first begun, I used to have "Writer,
Proofreader, Copyeditor, Editor" on my business cards. I had experience
with very detailed bookkeeping type work and had proofread for the
periodical librarians back in college. In addition, at the time I filed
the DBA for PPP, I'd been working for a company where I was speed
proofing and formatting several documents a day (think double digits),
sometimes having to change which style rules I was supposed to adhere to
(APA, MLA, Harvard, Turabian..., or some variance in between) from one
document to another, and also making sure everything was up to snuff
with our own style/formatting code. And then sending the documents on to
the clients after they were approved by the editors and my bosses.
Somewhere
along the line, between proofreading the documents and passing along
client order requests to our editors, and troubleshooting or passing
along information from client to writer and back again, and generally
running the office when my bosses and other editors were off doing other
things, I began taking those orders myself, assigning writers, making
decisions about content, sending along documents, and then advising my
bosses and editors after the fact of what had been done. One editor I
worked with pointed out I was, in effect, an assistant editor at that
point.
Because of the extent to which I did all that work, and the
freelance writing I did for this company after hours, I had no problem
putting "Writer, Proofreader, Copyeditor, Editor" on my business cards.
But
then something happened in cyberspace. I interacted with people,
writers and editors, in the small speculative fiction community. I
wasn't diplomatic about something and didn't behave well, and someone
wrote that if I were a "real" editor, I would have known better. Paid
better attention, understood the responsibility, etc.
After
considering what I did and what they said, I realized they had a point. I
took that bit, "editor," off my business cards and have assiduously
avoided being called an editor ever since. I wanted to be honest about
what I could do for people. Some people use the term "edit" loosely and
things can get messy when that happens, especially when we're talking
about paying for the service. I had experience with academic research
documents, but relatively little in fiction or newspaper or magazine
copy. I knew I would gain more experience in those areas, but until
then, I didn't want to promise more than I could deliver.
Well,
that was back between 2000 and 2005. New Year's Day this year, 2016, a
friend of mine approached me about being a developmental editor for her
piece of fiction, a novel-length work.
I had done some
proofreading and copyediting work for her. I had helped her spruce up
copy for letters she was sending, but editing — developmental editing — a
full piece of fiction for her, I wasn't sure I could do it. Even after
over a decade of beta reading, proofreading, copyediting on stories,
marketing documents, dissertations, theses, articles, and even at the
paper, I still felt like a fraud in saying yes to her. However, she
talked me into it.
This afternoon, I looked up from going through
her book for the third time and realized that I was doing it. I felt
like a kid learning to ride a bike who suddenly realizes her mom let go
of the back end halfway down the block.
WHOOOSH!
I'd been editing!
Time to put it back on the business cards...
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