Thread by @PomericoD

Writers: know how it’s super hard to write a novel? How you sometimes run into “can I do this?” or “is it worth it?” or “am I just faking at all this?”
Well, guess what: Editors go through it, too. 1/

I’m usually at a party, and someone asks what I do, and I’ll tell them “I’m a sci-fi and fantasy editor,” and their eyes light up (or, to be honest, sometimes they glaze over).

“That must be so much FUN!” 2/

And, for the most part, it truly is. I love my job. I love that I get to help writers with their works, not just to develop the story, but then get that story out to readers. It’s a lot of fun.

Until it isn’t 3/

Because, the crazy thing is, it’s still a job. It’s still me in an office (or, often, me NOT in my office), trying to balance all the different demands on my time, both personally and professionally. 4/

Yet, I do love most of that. I love going on a submission in-box deep dive. I love working with Marketing and Publicity to shape the narrative around the book. Seeing what Art has come up with. Interacting with my authors. 5/

Sometimes, though, what I find myself REALLY wondering is this: how much it can be a slog to work on edits. 6/

“But, David—you’re an editor.”

“Yes, I know,” I reply in this fictional conversation.

Here’s the crazy thing about editing, though: it can be really, really hard. 7/

For one thing, there’s the pressure of not messing up a writer’s vision. Of shaping, honing, and massaging a manuscript until it absolutely shines…and then convincing the author to view it your way. 8/

There’s also the pressure of the mindset of “Wait, did I catch everything? Did what I just suggest contradict something else I just suggested? Does any of this ACTUALLY make the book better, or am I just suggesting for the sake of suggesting?” 9/

There’s that pressure of wondering if what you suggested was truly brilliant, and if you’re truly the right person to be helping with this particular book…or ANY book. 10/

Finally, there’s the pressure from the higher ups. The question of “Am I balancing the author’s vision with the publisher’s vision for this book—will the art and economics come together.” 11/

(Now, some editors may not worry so much about the third pressure, but I’m a commercial fiction editor—I get to have that job because, ultimately, I take those factors into account. And the whole time I have to convince the author “It’s not personal. It’s business.” Ugh.) 12/

But the pressures that most concern me right now (and are the reason I’m addressing this to writers in the first place), is really the middle one: Am I the right person to be doing this? 13/

It’s a question I do ask myself from time to time. Like, right now, I’m working on a project that is a bit out of my wheelhouse (non-fiction versus fiction). And I wonder: do I even know what I’m doing? 14/

And, in conjunction with that, is what I’m doing WORTHY of the material. Or am I just an imposter? 15/

But that’s when I remember something: OTHER people believe in my ability. For one thing, that’s why I still have a job. For another, I didn’t just get here overnight. I worked at it. 16/

As with most editors, my origin story essentially began as an apprenticeship. And I had to observe and learn at the feet of—in my case—two masters of the craft. I started small: 17/

Working on copy, to get a sense of how a story could be presented. Reading submissions, and seeing how the senior editors reacted to the same project. Then, eventually, offering notes on active manuscripts. 18/

Basically, sweeping the floor, fetching coal for the forge, and just observing how the swords and ploughs were not just made, but expertly crafted.

Then, they let me make nails for a while. 19/

After some time at that—for some it can be a year, for others, years—they finally felt: “Okay—he can probably shoe a horse.” And you know what happened?

The first time, it went great.

The second time?

Kicked in the chest. 20/

Because I was still learning. And in trying to replicate what I did the first time around, I made a mistake: I tried to do EXACTLY what I’d done the first time around. And the second manuscript suffered for it. It was its own project, and I thought of it as a product. 21/

The big thing, though, was that I had support around me. I had those senior editors who I could talk to, who could explain why what I did wasn’t working. On how to put the right salve on the burn from the molten mess I'd made. 22/

But I also knew that there’d be more opportunities. That if I listened and kept polishing my own skills, soon I’d be in a place where I’d be able to help writers polish their own. 23/

Writing, then, is a lot like editing: it’s a long game. When you first start, it’s going to be incredibly intimidating:

Here—take this lump of iron and make something.

Or, more apropos:

Here—take this blank page and make something. 24/

But just like I had observed and helped out before I dove in, so have you (hopefully)—you’ve read a ton. You’ve seen story at its finest, and realized you THINK you can do that, too. That’s the first step. The next step, honestly, is to bang out a lot of bent nails. 25/

Because odds are, you’re first attempt isn’t going to be a wild success. To be clear, though, that doesn’t mean your first story won’t be a success, but that the first time you put it down on page probably won’t. 26/

That’s okay, though. Because as you continue to read more, you will also reach out to your support system (and if you don’t have a critique circle or a mentor, really, that’s another thread, but get one!) and LISTEN. 27/

It’s probably going to be tough. It might be brutal. But these are the moments when skilled practitioners can give you valuable tools to write even better, to create even more polished and ambitious works. The fact is, you can ALWAYS find things to get better at as a writer. 28/

Which is true of editing as well. In over a decade, I’d probably say I’m about ready to move on from being a journeyman to really putting together my master-piece. But I have no doubts I’m not a master just yet. 29/

One way I know this: I’m just starting to feel confident enough to go to authors and ask them to make big, sometimes drastic changes to their manuscripts. 30/

What makes me feel like I can do that is not just because I feel I have the skill to help them pull it off, but also because I feel that if they absolutely hate the idea, I can work with them to find a solution we’re all still excited about. 31/

Apprentice me certainly couldn’t have done that. And journeyman me wouldn’t have THOUGHT to do that. 32/

As a writer, you need to give yourself time to learn and grow and make mistakes. To waste iron or paper or ink or time or whatever it is you need to waste. Because if you truly want to do this, it’s probably not going to happen overnight. 33/

It will happen, though, if you dedicate yourself to the process. To learning and experiencing and failing and producing. Maybe you won’t be a bestselling author.

But you will be a writer. 34/

So don’t fear that you’re not able to do it. That you’re not somehow worthy to do it. Don’t fear the hard work you’re going to have to put in.

If this is what you want to do, it’s worth it, and you’re worth it, too. 35/35