Yesterday was a bit nuts, but I am determined to catch up today.
Yesterday was day 4 of Book Expo America, in which I am participating virtually via Armchair BEA. Today’s (yesterday’s) writing topic asks us to look beyond the blog for opportunities or tips to expand one’s writing to other communities online or in print or to expand one’s blog to be a source of income. “Have you done any freelance writing? Are you monetizing your blog and how so? How do you make connections outside the book blog community on the Internet? If none of these apply, we’d love for you to share a fun aspect about your blog or life that may be completely separate from books!”
I write and edit all day long as part of my job, but I don’t imagine anyone would be all that thrilled to hear about the number of business letters I have occasion to write. The editing I do is even less sexy than writing business letters. Don’t get me wrong–I enjoy taking a whole bunch of crazy and transforming it into standard written English, but that’s me. I’d be happy eating oatmeal every day. I’m just one of those people. Given that the non-blog writing that I do is generally uninteresting, that I am not monetizing my blog, and that I have few connections either within or without the book blog community on the Internet, I figured I’d tell a cautionary tale about writing, editing, and managing difficult interpersonal relationships and about how I’ve failed at all three over the years (but in a fun way).
When I was in high school, I was the editor-in-chief of my high school newspaper and the sole contributor to the opinion page. I wrote some crazy nonsense, and I still can’t believe that the school was willing to publish it every month and distribute it to all the students. My favorite regular column was the advice column, “Dear Wildcat.” In the first month, I couldn’t get anyone to submit questions, so, lacking patience, I decided to scrap the idea to answer real questions from students and just made up my own questions to answer. I was 17 and writing both sides of the conversation… you can probably guess how that went. All told, it was a great experience, but I learned that I’m best at humor writing, so a career in serious journalism was never in the cards for me.
During my stint as editor-in-chief, I also learned that I am a terrible manager. I’m pretty much like Bottom from A Midsummer Night’s Dream. I micromanage and am convinced that I can play all the roles, simultaneously, better than anyone else. It’s a problem. When I discovered that the other students had no talent for writing and didn’t understand even basic English grammar, my natural response was to write all of the articles myself and just give writing credit to the other students, because that was easier than trying to manage the process of editing and collecting final drafts (that were often still not quite written in standard American English…). The students who wrote for the paper were terrible writers, for sure, but I was so much worse as a manager than they ever were as writers, sentences like, “The Akil has improve is by working harder” notwithstanding.
Even when I’m not in any way responsible for the material that gets published, it still drives me absolutely batty to come across published material that could have been written by a monkey. About a decade ago, a guy who knows my dad purchased a community newspaper and tried his hand at publishing. He had grand plans to transform the newspaper into a community information hub for the San Gabriel Valley area of LA County, but his newspaper was so terrible! After the first edition, I wrote a letter to the editor requesting that he hire a copy editor. He ignored me and proceeded to publish another edition that was full of grammatical crazy. I wrote another letter to the editor that referenced the number of grammar and spelling (!) errors and begged him to hire a copy editor. He ignored me and published another edition. I, full of 22-year-old righteous indignation, took a red pen to his newspaper and mailed it back to him. He ignored me. I kept it up for another three months until he called my dad (!!) and asked him to tell me to stop sending him proofread copies of his newspaper. At that point, after six months, I finally realized that he didn’t care about the quality of what he was publishing, and I was fighting an unwinnable battle.
I’m ten years older now and a lot more mellow. Even so, it drives me wonky when I read a book, even a free one, and encounter truly stupid errors, but I no longer ride out on my steed of grammatical justice to defend the honor of the English language every time I read a book that was published without the benefit of a competent editor (every other time, maybe). So, yeah, I’ve mellowed, but I still have a tendency to be very critical of what I read. I suspect that the hyper-criticism that comes naturally to me could be off-putting to many (particularly authors and publishers). But I’m not really writing a review blog here, so maybe it’s moot.