My unpopular opinions about what it means to be an editor

I don't pretend to be the best editor around. I think I do well enough, although I'm sometimes a bit sloppy (please refrain from combing through this blog and bringing the typos and other errors to my attention).

There's a type of editor I've encountered many times over the course of my editing career -- I think of them as the persnickety editors, the editors who will defend a style guide to the death and make complicated or cumbersome changes to text not because it helps convey meaning but because the style guide tells them to. These editors learned a handful of die-hard editing rules somewhere along the way, and they cling to these rules with a foolish consistency that serves no purpose other than to gratify their own sensibilities. They eschew the editorial "we" in all cases because they were once told it was wrong. They rebel against passive voice every time they encounter it because they were trained early on to do so. Their infinitives are never split.

I, too, spent my formative editing years in just such an environment, with the most persnickety of persnickety editors as my mentors. I learned that every "on the other hand" must be preceded by an "on the one hand" and that if you leave a phrase such as "small business owner" without a hyphen, your poor, stupid readers might* be confused enough to think you're talking about very small people who own businesses.

(*I must confess that I very nearly typed "may" instead of "might" in that sentence but changed it because of my own ingrained set of persnickety rules, which includes this: "might" is for probability, while "may" is for permission.)

I've been out in the editing world long enough that I finally feel justified in having some opinions of my own, and here's what I've come to believe (bear in mind that my editing experience is restricted to non-fiction, primarily technical in nature): The persnickety editors are, in my opinion, far too caught up in whether each phrase is "correct" according to their style guide or their internal set of rules, and they are incapable of looking at the big picture. Does the text make sense? Does it communicate its point in a manner that the target audience will be able to understand? Do I, the editor, understand it?

An editor's first and primary job is to ensure that the text they're editing conveys meaning as simply and clearly as possible. It is best to leave the author's voice intact as much as possible, which means making the fewest possible changes. If something is downright wrong, then by all means fix it. We will not allow a misused its/it's or their/there/they're or to/too/two or every day/everyday, and so on and so forth. But do most readers really care whether there's an "on the one hand" as long as what they're reading makes sense? Do we really need to get caught up in the minutiae of language that only other editors care about? And, if we really must get caught up in the minutiae, can it not be secondary to conveying meaning? (Can I not stop asking rhetorical questions?)

Here's what I'm opposed to: editors who do not understand what they're editing, but who only go through the motions, making sure each sentence has the necessary parts and appropriate punctuation, regardless of what all those words are saying. Pay attention! Educate yourselves! Edit meaningfully! And don't worry so much about whether to use may or might, since or because, each other or one another. Just make sure the words make sense.

Had I but world enough and time...

I feel compelled to begin this by saying that I love my life. I have very nearly everything a girl could hope for. I love my wonderful husband and my amazing kids. Every one of you should wish you had my life. (I truly believe that, but I'll try not to rub it in your face.)

That said, having twins and becoming a stay-at-home mom (surely there's a better term for that) has changed my life in more ways than I could have imagined. The vast majority of those changes are for the good, and I wouldn't trade any of it for the world. However, there are a few things I miss, things about my old life that I wistfully daydream about while wiping food off toddlers' faces, jamming sharp blocks into my instep, and protecting poor Pepper's eyes from being gouged out by curious girls. Those things are, in no particular order:

Reading: I used to be an avid reader. I'd read any book that came my way -- fiction or non, science and cyberpunk and Jane Austen and Lemony Snicket. I used to log at least one book every month in my book log. Now I read The Very Hungry Caterpillar and Goodnight Moon.

Knitting: Many of you know that I was once a devoted and skilled knitter. I'd spend hours at a time working away on sweaters or blankets or scarves the size of blankets. I have a yarn stash that takes up much precious space in this not-so-large condo. Will I ever get to use it? I fear not.

Writing: I once dreamed of writing The Great American Novel. (I had no idea what it was going to be about. I just wanted to write it. Actually, I wanted to have written it, fast-forwarding straight to the praise, adulation, and millions of dollars.) Now, all of my writing ends up right here on the blog. And you know and I know that more often than not, I just post a large picture with a short comment. Pathetic.

Sleeping: I used to joke that I suffered from somnia -- the opposite of insomnia. I love to sleep. I'd sleep for 10, 12, 14 hours a day if I could. And let me tell you just how much sleep a mother of 15-month-old twins gets (especially now that they're giving up their morning nap): not much.

Spontaneity: When you have twins, they tell you to enforce a strict schedule. Everyone gets up, eats, naps, and goes to bed at the same time. Otherwise, you have complete chaos. I've taken that advice to heart, and for the first time it my life, I stick with military precision to a rigid schedule that varies very little from day to day. And after more than a year of this, I am just about to lose my mind.

Size 6: Goodbye, pre-maternity pants. I'd like to think we'll meet up again someday, but that doesn't seem likely.

That extra bedroom: Once upon a time, all of our miscellaneous clutter could be piled up in our spare bedroom (the "office," we called it -- "junk room" would have been more accurate). And when it got too overwhelmingly messy in there, all I had to do was close the door and pretend it wasn't there. These days, that room is occupied by two cribs, a rocking chair, a changing table, etc. And all that clutter? Everywhere.

I'm not complaining. I love my life. But is it so wrong to have just a tiny bit of nostalgia for things that used to be?

Coolest Birthday Ever! (Or: The Hubby Feeds My Alton Brown Obsession)

My husband is the coolest husband on the block.

Here's what he just gave me for my birthday:


The Alton Brown fans among my dear readers (I think it's just you and me, Kerri) will recognize this as AB's signature saltcellar (or sodium chloride containment unit).

But wait! It isn't just your plain old, average, run-of-the-mill saltcellar. Oh no, my friends. Observe:

Autographed by the man himself!! I'm not sure I'll even be able to bring myself to use it for fear of sullying that signature caricature. And in the box, under the saltcellar, I found this:


Be still, my heart. Alton Brown wished me a wonderful birthday. Me. Alton Brown. Wonderful. I don't think there's any point in having birthdays henceforth, because they're not going to get any better than this.

Sometimes I'm not sure whether I have a bigger crush on Airan or Alton. (It's Airan, trust me.) I'm not entirely sure how Airan managed this (he claims he was in Atlanta on "business" last week...), but I'm not asking too many questions. I'm just too excited! Quick, send me recipes that use kosher salt!

I always thought Janice Dickinson and I shared a certain something...

Does Drew Barrymore not look totally wasted in that picture? It figures that, in order for me to look like Drew, she'd have to look like complete crap first.

(Confession: I shamelessly stole this idea from Sonya -- hope you don't mind, Sonya!)

Skyline

Airan took this lovely shot of the Chicago skyline from the beach near our condo a few nights ago. I like it so much I thought I'd share it with you. (Yes, you can see that there's a bit of a brown cloud over the downtown area. But it's quite pretty otherwise, isn't it?)

Geography Pop Quiz

I found this Middle East geography quiz to be an interesting and enlightening challenge. I got a string of eight or so countries with not much trouble, but then I was stumped. (I'm embarrassed to admit that I didn't get Iraq on my first try.) How about you?

(Thanks to Julie for sharing this quiz with me.)

Due Date

Had the twins been born on their due date, today would be their first birthday. That's a strange thought when their actual first birthday party was so very long ago. Yet another reminder of how lucky we are that the girls are happy and well.

Downsizing

Lately, I've been semi-seriously considering breast-reduction surgery. I've always had more than I need in that department, and I'm sick and tired of the chronic upper-back pain that comes with being amply endowed.

So I've been surfing the web in search of breast-reduction information. WebMD, for example, says large breasts affect nearly 1 million American women. (I'd never really thought of large breasts as an affliction before. And I'd add that they also have an affect on countless American men.) MayoClinic.com cautions that breast-reduction surgery can result in asymmetrical breasts. (Shudder.) BFAR.org offers our society's perceived link between large breasts and promiscuity as a possible reason for seeking reduction surgery. (Seriously? I can't imagine having a plastic surgeon carve up my flesh just so people won't see my curves and deduce I'm a woman of easy virtues.)

I find myself leaning against surgery, and not just because it seems awfully extreme. It's not like I'm one of those poor women who wear size F cups. (My C/Ds seem meager by comparison.) The surgery comes with long-term changes to your body, including scarring and possible loss of sensation. However, I'm finding that my main reason for balking at the surgery isn't because of the medical risks. I have to confess that I'm reluctant to change the shape of my body, even in the face of ongoing pain. I don't think it's vanity -- I wouldn't exactly say I'm proud of this rack of mine. It's just that it is mine, along with all of my other imperfections, and I hesitate to alter it for any reason. Do I need to just get over my reservations and pursue the surgery? I don't know. More research is called for.

As small-breasted women say, "More than a mouthful is more than enough." Maybe it's time for me to embrace that philosophy.

The Countdown

Only eleven shopping days!

Where's the Do Not Call list when you need it?

Dear People for the American Way, Democratic Senatorial Campaign Committee, Democratic National Committee, MoveOn.org, Democracy for America, et al.,

Yes, I sympathize. I'm on your side. I love that your web sites let me send boilerplate faxes to my elected officials expressing cookie-cutter outrage about a variety of topics. (I'm sure that tactic is very effective.) I think you're on the side of Good and Right and the True Spirit of America.

That said, leave me alone! Stop emailing me, and most of all, stop calling me! Stop calling me after 8:00 at night when my young children are in bed! I got two calls last night within ten minutes of putting the girls down for the night. Do you know how incredibly annoying that is? It does not make me think kindly about giving financial support to your organization, that's for sure.

And to all the people who give these or any other organizations money when they call: Knock it off! Telemarketing is not an acceptable practice. You only encourage them and make life hell for the rest of us when you reward their efforts with your cash. Don't make me come to your house.