Sometimes the most sensible thing to say is: “Eat shit! Fuck you! Go fuck off and die!”

I think there’s a difference between an editor who wants to make something marketable, and one who wants to bring it into its fullest flowering of potential.

The first kind should be told to fuck off, in no uncertain terms … the work is yours, and if you don’t want to alter it to suit the flavor of the day, you shouldn’t.

But the second kind … probably worth listening to. It’s a rare artist who can see his own work clearly. A good editor is the equivalent of a colleague whose opinion you would solicit.

I suppose one could try to ascend the heights of Kubrick and Welles, but … I don’t know. There’s a lot of hubris inherent in that kind of attitude. Personally, I’m not so convinced of my greatness that I’m not grateful for thoughtful input from people who care about my work. And I’d say more editors fall into that camp than into the bloodsucking camp.

I know some “published” authors, and in fact bought my home from a successful romance novelist. We discuss this among ourselves all the time. There’s a bit of “dissing” the self-published start ups as not being “real” writers. Anyone can publish anything these days, so you don’t need agents and editors. Indeed, some of the self-published books are absolutely awful – story lines that are faulty, bad grammar, homophone abuse, you name it – but some are worthy. We’ve also had similar discussions on the “mill” process of writing: “they” tell you what to write and how to write it. That’s the trade off for being published by the “big box” companies.

My novel is just in its early stages. I’m looking forward to having my book edited and examined, but I’m happy to know that if I don’t want to compromise, I can take my work and publish it myself.

We will never, ever precisely know what many print books were like before an editor edited it.

There have been editors who have been praised by classic authors for bringing out *what they meant*.

One story I can cite of editorial intervention is in the novel The Fountainhead. Rand had Roark in an affair with someone. The editor said that should be cut. It was. Had it not been cut, I think Roark would not be the character everyone thinks of today. So, who was right? Rand or the editor?

Another story. I won’t cite the author. Only to say she is a top-ten seller. She submitted her latest novel and it was, to put it kindly, a “mess.” The editor had to go through it line-by-line to make it publishable. In my mind, this is an example of author abuse. The author thought she was so hot shit, they’d take anything she gave them.

Just like that hack Harold Robbins. You can read about him here:

http://www.dailymail.co.uk/pages/live/articles/news/news.html?in_article_id=485996&in_page_id=1770

Lastly, there is the case of best-selling author Og Mandino. His books were to help everyday people lift themselves up. People laugh at them as being simplistic and using simple language. What most people don’t know is that they started out as very different books with a large vocabulary. He would give the ms to his wife to read and she kept having to look up words. She confronted him and told him he wasn’t going to sell unless he modified his vocabulary. She was right. (Ever tried to read Henry Miller? Have a ginormous dictionary handy!)

Hell, a good copy editor is a joy too. I’ve had sentences made clearer by them. I wish I could damn well marry a good copy editor and set her loose on my text before I hit Publish on my blog! (Not that what I do there is what I consider writing — but it’d at least save me a lot of self-embarrassment!)

Good editors and good agents are being crushed by the same people as writers: the bastards who only see “maximizing shareholder value” as the be-all and end-all of corporate efforts.

Finally, there’s the advice of Randy Pausch:
http://mikecane2008.wordpress.com/2008/03/21/the-dreams-will-come-to-you/

Have the wisdom to see criticism as *caring*.

I wouldn’t trust *anyone* who told me my work was flawless. *It never is!*

I feel bad for your family. Your poor wife must be the most brow-beaten human alive. Do you have a podium at the dinner table so you can spout your grievances extemporaneously? Or perhaps you’re like the great Goofy cartoon, where mild-mannered Mr. Walker becomes demonic Mr. Wheeler when he climbs into his car. In person maybe you’re meek and pliant, but when you get on your blog-horse, you’re a mighty warrior, dealing death to your enemies.

Get over it a little. Sorry you’re not going to have the glittering career you imagined for yourself, but at some point you have to deal with this plain fact: you’re not good enough. Find something else to devote your energy to and give up your death-grip on the illusion of your talent. Quit letting other frustrated nine-time losers encourage you with this quixotic foolishness. Let someone who actually knows something (me, for instance) tell you what goes on. It’s never going to happen, and nor should it. Justice, art, morality, human decency all cry out, “Cliff J. Burns does not deserve an audience.” Take pity on us, and on yourself, you sad fellow, and stop.