When I first decided to become an editor I had a simplistic and romanticised understanding of the editor's role. The editor was nothing less than an unflinching guardian of the English language.
With great grammatical understanding came great responsibility.
In my mind it simply wasn't acceptable for celebrities to use adjectives where they needed adverbs or for teenagers to pepper their daily speech with interjections like, y'know, whatever.
Whenever I recognised a mistake I felt honour-bound to ensure it was fixed and the person who made the mistake knew to never make such a silly mistake ever again. I often did this mid-conversation.
This did not make me popular.
But there is more at risk than popularity. Focusing intently on spelling, grammar, and punctuation trivialises the profession. Carol Saller hits the nail on the head on her blog The Subversive Copy Editor:
Scolding about typos and pouncing on errant apostrophes are cheap grabs for low-hanging fruit. And much of it is misinformed and counterproductive. Public sticklers waste our time on outdated rules or rules that never existed in the first place.
Pulling people up on these small details only creates friction. You might have the best intentions, but the person you're correcting is placing you in the same category as that annoying first grade teacher who insisted that sentences should never begin with 'because'.
My opinion about editing changed when I acknowledged that intelligence was not solely linked to eloquent communication. I knew people who could explain complex scientific principles, hone their bodies to perfection, and offer revealing psychological insights.
And they all helped me and were so happy to lend their expert opinions.
From that moment I decided my role as an editor would be to help people communicate their passions with powerful and creative voices.
No comments:
Post a Comment