A
writing colleague who had beta-read for me (and I for her) and who, like me,
had been on occasion paid to freelance edit, let me know one of the books she
had edited had won an important award.
When
she mentioned the title, I gasped. It’s one I had read because it came recommended
and it is an exquisite literary novel for middle grades. Aside from the
mentioned award, this novel had garnered accolades from all the sources that
matter in publishing.
The
glory, rightly, goes to the author. The financial gain goes to the publisher.
But what goes to the editor who guided it to the mature version the world got
to read?
No
glory, or even a smidgen of recognition, will attach to this all-important arm
of the publishing journey. Some writers will mention their editor’s name in the
acknowledgement page. But the public at large only knows editors when the
latter write their memoires, and this they get to publish only if they had
edited well known writers, plural.
Try
not to chuckle as I confess this reminded me of intelligence officers as part
of national security. Few know what battles they fought so we won’t have to.
Editors are like the CIA field agents whom the public will never know.
Unsung
heroes are a special breed. They work for the job at hand and not for a
pat on the back.
To
the editors:
