Editor’s Note: A version of this article was originally published in the STC Notebook in 2014 as part of a series. Over the course of 2022, we hope to publish more of these articles. To make it easier for you to find these articles again in the future, they will be tagged with the Eye for Editing tag, and the titles prefaced with the same phrase.
Once upon a time, I found myself in an interesting position. I had a freelance client for which I did editing exclusively. I also had a full-time contract gig where my job descriptors were writer, editor, designer, trainer, developer, project manager… My deliverables were primarily original content as a writer, and editorial reviews of the original content of my writer peers, on a team of three.
In my evening hours one week, I worked on the freelance client’s latest requirements for content editing. This client was an education nonprofit that develops K–12 curricula in science, technology, engineering, and math (STEM). Because of the obvious importance of STEM education to U.S. students who will in turn determine the future of our national economy, I was proud to be associated with that company.
As I reviewed the content to provide my best suggestions for improvement based on the target audience and purpose, I experienced the sense of satisfaction and enjoyment that is common when I do this type of work. No secret here. I just plain enjoy editing. It’s fun! Especially when I know I’m making a positive difference.
By contrast, in my day job, I finally confronted the handwritten comments from my team lead for a section I’d been assigned. When I first saw the markup, I was immediately put off. Indeed, I put off reading it until several days after I was back from a trip to the STC Summit that year. One comment that I took particular exception to seemed to challenge the fact that I had incorporated content we, as a team, had identified for inclusion. “Known issue: XXX does not use YYY software for ZZZ. So why are we including it in our documentation?”
How would you interpret such a comment? Because the markup was specific to content I had worked on, I took it to mean that I had knowingly and stupidly included content that was not valid, never mind that the team had laboriously scoped and defined all topics for inclusion in the draft deliverable. I had adhered to that roadmap. So where was the disconnect?
This comment made it hard even for this seasoned writer/editor to accept the lead’s other comments about the content. (For a related perspective, see Eye for Editing: Taking It Personally.) Yet I had to recognize the other, less confrontational comments that sought to steer my sometimes verbose style into conciseness. This second pair of eyes had the time and fresh perspective to consider reorganization of content that I had not had. And the result was likely what often develops from a collaborative effort—two perspectives equal a cohesive whole for the benefit of the target audience.
Still, I had to question that uncomfortable comment. Turns out that it was not directed at me! The unexplained intent was for me to insert it as a comment in the text, so we would make sure to get clarification from the technical reviewers. The fact that the intent was not clear says two things to me.
- Don’t necessarily take an editor’s comment at face value. Ask for clarification.
- Though their intentions are genuine, editors don’t always say it that way.
You might say, a good way for an editor to get a refresher on her own skills is to be edited.
Paula Robertson has learned her editing skills over a long and varied career, while swapping among the various titles of writer, editor, and designer. No matter what her current job title, she has earned the right to call herself the Full-service Editor, because of her ability to review text and graphics as cohesive parts of a whole. In STC, her current job title is facilitator for the Solo Technical Communicator SIG/COI. You can reach her at: solotechnicalcommunicator@gmail.com
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