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A lot of writers don't like editors. They don't know them, so they don't like them. They don't trust them because they don't know what makes them tick.
So, here's the deal: Huddle up. I'm going to clue you in.
An editor is looking for one thing only: a viable, marketable piece of writing to publish. One that clicks with his readers. One that creates a buzz in the real world. One that--let's be real here--is going to make the editor look like a genius for having acquired and brought it to light. |
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With that said, once you have befriended an editor, won him or her over with your writing, and convinced him to add your name to the long list of other writers he has published (some successfully, some not), you need to realize that the writer-editor relationship is a bond. It's a contract. It's a vow, a handshake, a pledge and all kinds of other things that cement one person to another, for better or worse, in sickness and in health, till death do you… Well, okay. Maybe not that far.
As with all relationships, you'll need to recognize your responsibilities, such as delivering what you promised to the expectations of the editor, on time, in the right length, and with as few bumps in the road toward publication as possible.
But what happens if, along that road, you run into a few potholes? What is reasonable and what is unreasonable for you to expect of your editor? Just how much flexibility can you expect your editor to show you?
The obvious answer to that question is the simplest: a fair amount, so long as you are not placing the editor's schedule, his company, or his job in jeopardy. That sounds reasonable, doesn't it?
That means you can negotiate for more money than the editor offered to pay you initially, but not once the agreement is reached and the contract is signed. Remember, editors have budgets by which they must live, too.
You can negotiate for paid expenses--for travel, research, photos, or whatever--but, again, not once the agreement is signed.
You can negotiate for a longer deadline than the editor originally offered you, again, provided you don't place the publication date in jeopardy and force the editor to scramble around at the last minute, searching for a late-date substitution and changing all the advertising, promotional, and marketing materials that need to be generated.
What if you have a legitimate need for a last-minute deadline extension of a week or two? Talk to your editor candidly. I ran into that problem with my latest book, and instead of doing what I would have liked to have done--placed my head in the sand and hoped no one would notice I was running late--I e-mailed her, explained that I'd had some personal problems, and said I needed three more weeks to finish the project.
It turned out she was going on vacation in two weeks and wanted to take the manuscript with her to read, so I told her I could have all but the last chapter to her in time for her trip and have the completed work on her desk when she returned to the office.
Bingo! It was a deal. She was happy (she got most of what she wanted), and I was happy (for the same reason). The publishing schedule was never in danger (she wouldn't have turned the book over to production until she returned from vacation anyway), and I had enough time to finish the book the way I wanted.
So the next time you come face-to-face with a Big, Bad, Hard-Nosed Editor, remember to leave the adversarial attitude in the office trash can. Treat your editors with respect and understanding, and you'll more than likely find a friend and professional associate just dying to accommodate you.
You, after all, are one of the people who will help keep that editor on the payroll.
Until then...
Smoke if you got 'em.
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