My last essay had at least two mistakes in the first version I posted, and several friends quickly pointed them out to me. I’m glad they did. I corrected the problems and kicked myself for rushing to post a new essay without letting my editor, Irene, give it a final read for typos, clarity and clumsiness.
It’s taken me many years to accept that everything I write can be improved by a patient, demanding second pair of eyes, yet I still get testy occasionally when someone suggests changes in my copy. I’m not alone there. I’ve worked with many journalists, in broadcasting and in print, who hated to be edited. In some cases, they simply refused. An anchor for CBS News, Radio once wrote a story saying West Germany was re-establishing diplomatic relations with Poland. When I pointed out that was wrong – there was no West Germany until after the Second World War so there never had been diplomatic relations between Bonn and Warsaw – the anchor’s response was to take the story, wad it up and throw it on the floor. Take that, you big shot editor.
Another anchor seemed to think every word he put on paper was as sacred as the Ten Commandments. If a word – and I do mean a single word – was changed he objected and then pouted. The pouting wasn’t for a couple of minutes. It usually lasted his entire shift. (If you came into the newsroom and saw that so-and-so had a grim look on his face, you didn’t have to guess what had happened. Years after we worked together, he conceded he still found it difficult to have his words messed with.)
A favorite tack of some anchors was to claim any editing of their copy, even to correct factual problems, amounted to interference with their style and that was a no-no. Rubbish. Usually the style so vigorously defended was so helter-skelter it was hard to listen to. Other anchors loved to wait until the last minute to write their lead story and handed it to the editor only seconds before air time, leaving the editor with no chance to do anything except perhaps check that the sound bites called for in the script were the ones taken into the studio for the broadcast. If the anchor had somehow missed the point of the story, left out vital context, jumped to a conclusion or misread the source copy, there was nothing the editor could do about it. I was always mystified why the most important part of a newscast - the first story - was frequently the last thing written. Some anchors claimed they couldn’t start writing the lead until they knew what tape they were getting for it. More rubbish. What happens if the tape promised isn’t ready in time? You still have to start talking when the red light goes on, so why not make damn sure you have something ready, something you’re comfortable with?
Strangely, there are some veteran editors who hate changing other people’s copy. They admit being reluctant to alter the work of others. Is that not what editors do, assess and at times challenge what others have written? One print editor’s easy solution to copy he thought was substandard was to hide it. When he left for the day and I took over, I would lift the desk pad in front of me to see how many stories he had stored there rather than ask someone on the rewrite bank to have another go at it. Can you be bashful and be a good editor? I doubt it.
Other editors change copy a lot but don’t ask for a rewrite when they should. I wrote for a broadcast editor who would add things to the front or back of a lead sentence. When he told me what he thought needed to be added to the lead, I usually said, “Okay. Let me rewrite it.” He usually said, “No. No. It’s okay.” I certainly didn’t think it was. The stuff slapped on at the beginning or end made for long, awkward sentences even when read by a first-class anchor.
Another problem faced by broadcast editors is retyped wire copy. I’m not talking about a story that paraphrases what AP or Reuters said, but AP or Reuters copy retyped word for word. If it takes forever for the wire service reporter to make a point, so be it. The maddening part from an editor’s viewpoint is that there are some anchors who read so smoothly, the bastards are able to get away with being verbatim typists. It’s been my experience that these are the same anchors who seem stunned when a story that has been getting minor play on the newscasts of other anchors for a few days suddenly explodes into a blockbuster. The verbatim typists posing as anchors are completely lost and don’t know what to do with the story.
Obviously it’s always easier to write and talk about the klutzes than the whizzes, but let me stress that there are fine writers in both broadcasting and print, anchors and writers who generally need very little editing and always welcome the “catches” on facts or phrasing. But everyone makes mistakes, and everyone needs an editor. I was in a hurry last time to publish a new essay because Irene and I were about to leave on vacation. Irene was busy with some writing of her own, and I didn’t ask her to look at the final version of something she had edited earlier. I should have and again thank those who caught the mistakes, one of them a typo, the other a word used incorrectly.
If it’s true that everyone needs an editor, then it’s also true everyone is a comedian. Take a look at the addendum to that last essay – “Hello, Friends. I Need Some Favors” now filed under Archives III – and you’ll see a suggestion that I peddle my book on aging by setting up shop at a funeral home, signing copies there. J
(Posted April 30, 2011)