The Written Word
for November 15, 2000

I am now in the throes of completing the ceremonies that surround the publication of a book – my third. It’s called Rants, Raves, and Recollections. That’s not the title I would have selected but I suppose it’s as good as any.

It’s amazing how much of your independence you surrender when you get to writing a book. It all starts well. The publisher assures you that you have a completely free hand to write what ever you wish in whatever order suits you. So you do. Then editors get into the act and you see the red pencil marks appear on your manuscript. Actually they were red marks on my last one because my editor preferred to edit off the written words not off the computer screen. This was good news and bad news. I actually see the editing necessary better on paper than I do on the screen but on the other hand it meant that I had to read off paper and then transcribe my own thoughts back up on the screen.

It’s tortuous work. For the editor and the writer.

I have the greatest admiration for my last editor, Carolyn Bateman, who did a superb job of moving me towards the articulate away from the verbose rambling for which I’m known. But good editing is very hard on the ego of the writer. What you think is brilliant becomes exposed as wordiness and you see the red pencil not through what you think could fairly be called dross but slashing through the very essence of what you’re saying. As one editor famously said to those who would self edit, "look for your cutest and most witty saying then slash it mercilessly from the manuscript.

Most of the time during this book I found myself agreeing, albeit reluctantly from time to time, with my editor. When I stood my ground I was always delighted to see that Carolyn would say, "after all’s said and done, it’s your book." That graciousness having been conveyed to me I would often feel badly – after all, no one likes to win a battle from a gracious loser – and I would find myself re-visiting what I had done then backing off and agreeing with her!

At the end of it all, there it is. Is it yours? Is it your editor’s. You have to ask the question because your ego has taken so many bruisings during the entire process. Yet, in amazement, as you read your won book you realize that it is indeed really your work. Yes you had help but what’s so wrong with that? Some of the very best had a hell of a lot more help than you did. And, when all was said and done, nothing went in without your express, if reluctant, consent.

And you look down at those pages and know that you have done something. Not much of an addition to the world of literature. As noticeable in the world of books as one grain of sand on a beach.

But you created it. And you feel good.

The only thing you don’t feel – at least you don’t if you’re a Canadian author of the average ilk – is any richer in the pocketbook.