Taming the Author

1: Get the Job

The author, of course, was furious. He lashed out at my senior editor, who summoned me in his office demanding an explanation. Unfortunately, as an assistant editor in charge of grammar and layout, editing the book to such extent was beyond my responsibility.

So my moment of glory turned into a catastrophe.

I didn't regret editing the book though. It was hideous. If I was given a chance to do things all over again, I would edit it the same way. I would even sign my name on it.

"Dean Trevor," Allan said leaning back on his chair which earned him a squeak from the leather. The words crumbled what little courage I had left.

"Y-yes, sir," I answered, scratching my wrist out of habit.

"You know you're a pain in my ass, right?" he scoffed, looking at me like he was simply too tired to see my face.

"Yes, sir," I replied before I realized it might not be the best response to give.

This wasn't my first time in his office. I edited a badly written manuscript on my first day in the company. And by "badly" I meant grammar errors going off the charts; I went into a proofreading frenzy.

I was so proud of myself that I thought the company needed me. I imagined myself being summoned by my senior to acknowledge my efforts and name me "best rookie assistant editor!"

...If there even was one.

My senior editor did call me in his office after that but to reprimand me for badly editing a manuscript of one of their prized authors. Apparently the manuscript, as much as I hated it, catered to a significant amount of audience that had been giving the publishing company a substantial amount of profit. And with the author furious at my job, the company was on the verge of losing money.

I've had my highs, of course. That was why after all the fuss I've caused, I was still there in the company editing under the strict supervision of both my senior editor and his boss, Allan.

Sure, I could write an extremely long list of things I hated about my job. But the fact was, I liked it. I liked getting paid to read books and polish them before other people read them.

I liked reading words and seeing them form sentences that paint images in my head. I liked sitting on my desk all day and cleaning pages of stains that could mess up their story.

Sadly, I didn't get that many beautiful images and stories in the manuscripts I read.

Being in the Non-fiction: Guides and Manuals department, I was in charge of cleaning manuscripts that taught people how to use curtains; how to design living rooms; how to sleep on time; how to raise the perfect pooch; and other whatnot. And with what would seem like some cruel twist of fate, I always ended up with the worst kind of manuscripts.

"Rough draft" wouldn't even be enough to describe them.

Several paces away from my workstation was the Fiction department - a floor of middle-aged editors who read piles of stories about love, adventure, worlds beyond your imagination, heroes in epic battles, ambitious bloodthirsty villains...

They read the upcoming installments of bestselling authors like Miller Dane's second fantasy book for "Windlass;" Rick Lemur's new mystery "Spring Tide;" Willow Finworth's drama "Éclair;" Craig Philip's tragedy, "Sea child;" and so much more!

They spent all their workdays in marvelous, action-packed places while I spent my work hours reading crap and making them less of the crap they were.