Monday 12 February 2024
King Arthur’s editorial skills impress me because his various professional roles and positions: dissertation writer and published author, philosophy professor, and military officer not only account for his objectivity and credibility as a manuscript reader but explain his subtleness, discernment, and empathy as a reader. He deftly struck a balance between being an impartial and sympathetic editor. If his commentary were to be constructive and substantive, he needed to challenge my writing. If his feedback were to be truly helpful and serious, he needed to speak the truth about my writing. If his appraisal were to be honest and scrupulous, he needed to separate the writing from the writer. Even though we are close friends, when he donned his editorial cap, blue-penciling my manuscript, he became like one’s favorite teacher: an authority figure much respected because they want to see you succeed, demanding more from you.
Like Steve, King Arthur knew how and when to coax intellectual excellence from me as a writer. Both editors were uncompromising advocates for quality writing. Both editors understood how meaningful my Katyn book was for me. This insider’s knowledge could have been their inherent weaknesses as my manuscript editors because their friendships with me could have limited, stymied, or obstructed their intellectual objectivity as readers. They never dampened or softened their editorial critique; in fact, their constructive observations on my manuscript were keen, thorough, and unrelenting. As manuscript editors, their jobs were to point out an incomplete, unfinished thought or a digressive, sentimental interlude.
Working with another editor, one who would have been a stranger to me, I likely too would have heard that “this section is irrelevant to your Katyn story;” however, when Steve and King Arthur shared similar conclusions on digressive and sentimental passages, their assessments were more impactful because they also understood me not only as a fellow intellectual and author but as a friend. The extra elements of a friend’s loyalty and support fueled by brutal honesty helped to alleviate my writing. A genuine friend doesn’t lie. A true friend doesn’t want to see you appear foolish. Both men were from the academic world: literature and philosophy; each man earned his doctorate, teaching university classes. The life of the mind and Socratic method: our shared pursuits of intellectual and creative excellence reminded me that writing doesn’t become easier after previous publications and doesn’t become simpler after years of teaching writing. All writers are still students of the craft of writing. In their positions as my editors, Steve and King Arthur were my writing teachers.
Many moments of the writing process are solitary. And writing may seem like an existential exercise in coping with that isolation. Sometimes, while writing, a writer may forget momentarily about their audience, the reader. Neither Steve nor King Arthur permitted that inattention to last long. Their readings of my manuscript re-emphasized the central point of revision. I have said this insight before, but its impact on me has been truly revelatory and cathartic: readability is the goal of revision.