On Craft--Certainty in Vodka

Publishing people are drinking people. We just are. One of the first things I learned about when I entered this noble profession was the two (three?) martini lunch and the more prosecco the better. Along with the drinking goes the gossiping. Publishing people are the biggest gossips. So when out with another editor, I know there will be two things: lots of drinking and lots of gossiping. And both are renewing. But also, when out with another publishing person, especially when another editor, along with the drinking and gossiping, there is also a lot of craft talk. Tonight was such a night. There was talk of one editor going through over 20 drafts with an author. I confessed I was on my 7th draft with an author. Tenth piped another. Fourteenth piped another. And then the knowing nods and smiles. None of us were saying that there was anything shameful about going through so many rounds with an author or that it was even unusual, just that it was the job and what we do as editors. We read and read and read again. We read and edit and have our authors revise until it's ready. And being ready is the thing. Publishing a book too early can be the death knell of a book and we all know it. Though we've all been guilty of publishing a book early--because of market pressures, in-house pressures, but most especially author pressure. Twenty revisions is not for the feint of heart, but it is sometimes necessary...necessary to ensure that books get starred reviews, get hand-sold by indie accounts, get award consideration and recognition and get the kind of grass roots enthusiasm and support than can assure a bestseller. Waiting for a book to be ready can make or break a book and we all know it.

And when we have been guilty of publishing a book too early, it's most often because an author is fatigued and not quite up for that twenty-first draft or even that sixth draft or even that third draft. Authors will and can sometimes judge a book ready before an editor does and in this moment an editor must face their mortality so to speak. It's not, in fact, our name going on the cover. It's not, in fact, our book. And we have in our hands a book we love and an author who has reached their limit. So we publish. And often these are not the most successful, memorable books, though they could have been.

One of the most successful authors on my list repeatedly forces one promise from me: Do not let me publish a bad book. And I don't. I tell this author when I think the book is not ready and this author listens to me and every book we've published together has received starred reviews, award attention and sold well. This author isn't in a rush, and trusts the publishing team, including me, especially me (author-editor trust is paramount to success) to tell them when they've done their best. For me as an editor, this is an ideal publishing situation and one that has been fruitful for the author, for me as editor and for the publisher, overall.

This is when I believe in gatekeepers. This is when I believe in the traditional publishing model. This is when I believe in publishing. It can be a well-oiled machine and talent can always shine if it's given the proper time and space to develop. So if your editor is putting you through the paces, don't let impatience overwhelm you or rob you of the time you need to produce the best, most thoughtful book. Craft is also about ensuring that no book is published before it's time. Craft is time and patience and listening to your revision partner--your editor--who is your main cheerleader and wants to see you reach the highest heights (because an editor's career also grows as an author's career grows, so editors do have a particular vested interest). Craft is waiting until your book is ready and embracing each step in the revision process with enthusiasm and not fatigue, even when you really are tired. Give yourself every possibility. Give your craft every chance to shine. Whether that means 3 or 8 or 30 drafts, patience is not only a virtue but when it comes to publishing, it can be the difference between a viable, long-lasting career and getting lost to the mid-list.

So a night of drinking, gossiping and craft has recommitted me to the best of what I do and the certainty of slow and steady wins the race. And the certainty of revision. And also vodka. There is certainty in vodka.

Stacey