Edit This!

Well, I’m just back from reading some of the workshop entries, and yow! It was painful.

Don’t get me wrong — I love D.L.’s writing workshop, and I’ve read some great writing because of it. It’s held once a month at the local B&N (say what you will about big bookstore chains — the Palmdale Barnes & Noble has been very good to us). And the core of our group is pretty solid, even if we’re not quite up to the high standards (or expectations) of She Who Must Be Obeyed. The goal of the group is eventual publication, so we’re ruthlessly commercial, with an eye on getting out something someone will eventually buy. Those who write solely “for themselves” will get the audience they desire — they don’t need our help. No artsy fartsy “artistes” here — if you get cranky without your silk hankie, you better steer clear of this squid-jiggin’ ground.

And man, the variety of crime fiction we’ve got going! We’ve got one guy writing a great historical about a recently returned Korean vet trying to track down a girlfriend’s brother in 1950s Los Angeles, and another one that’s a dark, noirish sort of Southern Gothic/Flannery O’Connor/William Faulkner/Erskine Caldwell crime story that gets creepier and creepier with every installment. A newer member has tapped into a James Dickey/Jim Harrison he-man type vibe about an assortment of illegal immigrants and ex-military specialists who all seem to be up to something, although it’s not quite clear yet what it is. And the ever-prolific D.L.s has presented excerpts from numerous works-in-progress for our consideration, everything from chapters of her latest POETIC DEATH mystery (SONNET OF THE SPHINX) to a period P.I. tale.

But, alas, we also get people who show up occasionally who are, uh, alternatively talented, I guess you could say. Folks who submit stuff that’s a true chore to read, people with no sense of how to tell a story, people who spend fifteen pages detailing someone driving to their office where (shades of Monty Python) NOTHING HAPPENS!, stuff so slack-jawed and inept only a vanity press or POD author mill would ever touch it. Fortunately, most of these people don’t take criticism well, and so they leave after they get their first taste of honest feedback. They don’t actually want critiques — they want teary-eyed praise and to be told they’re wonderful and special because they put some words down on paper.

By comparison, most of the stuff G and I receive for THRILLING DETECTIVE is a joy to read, and we’ve reached the point where most of our writers know what to expect. And most of our ever-growing number of readers seem to appreciate that. We’ve even picked up an award or two, and been nominated for a few others. Real awards, too; not some bogus online “contest” that requires entry fees or ass-kissing your way around the circle jerk. And one of our stories, Dave White’s “God’s Dice,” is even going to be in Ed Gorman’s upcoming The Adventure of the Missing Detective and 25 of the 2005’s Best Crime and Mystery Stories.

That’s sorta cool. It may even mean we’re doing something right.

So, here’s the scoop on fiction at THRILLING DETECTIVE:

We edit, man.

As though we give a damn about your story.

Which we do.

Yeah, we’re blue pencil tough, but it’s a tough world out there. Crimewriter pal Jim Winter once told a Bouchercon crowd that I made him cry, but I think he meant it as a compliment (I hope he meant it as a compliment). And — tears or not — I think the end result was a great story.

So Gerald So, my ficiton editor and I don’t make apologies for editing — that’s what editors do.

Or at least are supposed to do.

We don’t have guest editors, and we don’t run fiction “as is.”

Intrusive, soul-sucking, creativity-crushing ghouls? That’s us.

But let’s face it — if you want to be a writer, eventually you’re going to have to grow up and learn how to accept being edited and critiqued (and reviewed, for that matter). Unless you’re a Hollywood starlet with tits for brains or you’ve slept with a politician, your work — if it’s going to be released by a major publisher — WILL be edited.

And the severity of that editing will often depend on not just the editor but… the writer.

Yes, the current state of editing may not be what it should be (and Lord knows, we at TD are not immune — we have made some real clangers), but this notion that “nobody” at the major publishing houses (or anywhere else) edits any more — a claim made by some self-serving jackass president or something at PublishAmerica and all too readily swallowed by the POD people — is 100 per cent EXCREMENT.

Of course PA and their ilk are going to say that. Because THEY don’t edit — at least without an additional fee. And the vanity presses and POD clip joints have the sales figures to prove it. Sorry, Phil, but 108 copies of a title — fifty of which your mother bought — do not a bestseller make.

Real writers get really edited.

Live with it.

(And now I’ve got to get to work on MY chapter for tonight…)