Cleaning house, cleaning up manuscripts

On Monday I had two main projects to complete: reviewing my copyedits (for Stork Raving Mad, due out in July), and getting the house ready for the cleaners. 

At this point, some people will exclaim, "Don't tell me you clean for the cleaners?" No, I tidy.  I organize.  I clear the decks.  How can I expect them to dust and vacuum if every horizontal surface is covered with clutter?

So I run  around returning things to where they belong.  Making sure fragile objects aren't teetering near the edges of tables. Scanning the floor for stray earrings that might not get seen before the cleaners vacuum.

I turn it into a game sometimes, trying to make sure each time they visit that the place is a little tidier than the last.  That little collection of clutter on the dining room table was there on their last visit--time to do something about it.  That picture I've been meaning to hang was leaning against the wall last time.  Get the hammer and a nail.

I'm sure the cleaners don't care.  The probably don't even notice how good or bad the place looks except when they visit during, say, the last few weeks before a deadline, when everything suddenly looks ever so much worse.

The ultimate goal, of course, is to wake up on the day before the cleaners come, look around, and realize that I don't really need to do anything before they come.  It's not perfect--it needs cleaning, of course, or why bother with the cleaners.  But it's uncluttered, organized, tidy--completely ready for their visit.  

I may never achieve this goal, but aiming for it keeps my surroundings in a much more harmonious state.  

In between bouts of tidying, as I pored over my copyedited manuscript I found myself nodding with satisfaction.  If I say so myself, I turn in a reasonably clean manuscript.  I came across whole pages with only a couple of marks.  Or no marks at all other then routine instructions to the typesetter.  The copyeditor marks every dash with a "1" over it and an "M" under it, to show that this should be an M-dash instead of an N-dash or two hyphens, for example, and calls out every instance of italics in case the typesetter misses it.

Clean manuscripts don't just happen.  I work on this.  Before I got published, I spent twenty years working in corporate communications, which means I put in my time as the copyeditor who had to polish someone else's words into perfection.  So each time I get a copyedited manuscript for review, I try to look on it not as a chore but as an opportunity to learn more about my craft.  

Why did the copyeditor add or remove that comma?  Hmmm . . . I don't like that change--I know it's more grammatical, but this is dialogue, and that just doesn't sound like something a real human being would say.  Oh, she's right--that next paragraph sounds weird with "probably" appearing twice in one sentence.  Which one should I take out?  

I learned, during the first or second book, that I was unsound on the difference between farther and further.  I've learned it now.  On one book I instinctively rebelled when the copyeditor changed "for a while" to "for awhile."  I couldn't quote you the rule or cite you a page in The Chicago Manual of Style, but it felt wrong, so I looked it up.  My instinct was good, and now I know the rule to prove it.

Invariably there will be corrections that make me cringe with embarrassment that I wrote a sentence so bad . . . and corrections so bad that I write stet in firmly enough to tear the paper. And a few typos will slip past both my copyeditor and me--I don't know what the copyeditor's excuse is, but after the first ten or twenty or thirty times I read something I've written, I no longer see what's on the page--I see that is in my head.  Still, I work hard at turning in not only a good book but also a manuscript that is as clean as I can make it.

Occasionally I run into writers--usually writers still aspiring to publication--who turn up their noses at all that boring mechanical work of spell-checking and grammar policing and fine tuning every sentence.  "It's the story that counts," they will say. "I'm a creative artist; there are editors and proofreaders to fix all those boring details."

As someone who has spent her share of time on the editorial side of the table, I agree that the story is ultimately what counts.  But sometimes a good story is hard to spot when it's buried up to its ears in typos and grammatical errors.  

Imagine an editor who has one slot in her publication schedule to fill and two manuscripts in front of her.  The stories are equally good, but one manuscript is clean, polished, largely free of the kind of nitpicking errors that a copyeditor has to fix and the other needs a lot of cleanup.  Which one will the editor choose?  

At least that's how I approached preparing manuscripts when I was an aspiring writer.  And how I still approach them today.  My editor knows I can write by now, of course, but I don't want to turn in a sloppy manuscript that would inspire anyone to think, "Hmmm.  She's getting careless.  Wonder if she's cutting corners on the writing, too."  

Does anyone else feel this way, I wonder?  Or is this another case of "cleaning for the cleaners?"  All I know is that it matters to me.

Comments

[Lil Gluckstern]

I really enjoyed your post. I too "pick up and tidy" for the cleaners. it just seems to be the right thing to do, in addition to which, my stuff is in my piles, not theirs. I liked your writing about your copy editing. As an avid reader, I always find errors jarring to the eye, and continuity. And I do wonder about the cavalier quality toward the editing. However, I know to err is human. I look forward to reading your new book.

[Shawn]

Yay!!! A new Meg book to look forward to. Woot!!

[Kristina L.]

I'm looking forward to the new book! Storks... hmm, sounds like maybe Meg and Michael are expecting?

As a person who sends a lot of work-related e-mails, I try to at least follow the basics of grammar and spelling. I think it looks more professional and better educated.

[Kate]

Ohboyohboyohboy, can't wait until July! *does the Snoopy happy dance*

I don't think making a manuscript as perfect as possible is "cleaning for the cleaners" at all. It's taking pride in one's work. We wouldn't send our kids out the door in ripped or dirty clothes - our books are our children, too, and we want them to make a good impression.

As a reader I don't mind the occasional typo. But some books are littered with them, and there are a couple of mystery series I've abandoned because the errors are so exasperating that I can't enjoy the story. Good writing makes a good story even more enjoyable, and this reader appreciates the effort that goes into well-written books.

[krisneri]

I'm always appalled when my writing students turn in assignment filled with atrocious grammatical mistakes, and it happens way too often. I don't mean the odd spelling error or typo, I mean work that is sometimes almost unreadable. But I feel torn about it — I'm paid to teach craft, not grammar. But how can I not tell them what Donna has said here? That the cleaner manuscript will always get the nod before the one that screams of incompetence and indifference, by virtue of its errors. Occasionally, someone will be embarrassed by how careless they've become and vow to change. But most of them argue with me that grammar isn't important anymore, that they can't possibly remember that stuff, that someone else can fix it later, etc. I always wonder if anyone of them make a connection between the rejections they receive and their sloppy standards.

[Hank Phillippi Ryan]

Oh, Donna, I am SO careful with copyediting! I actually enjoy it, and it's so--binary, you know? It's either wrong or right, and we can make it right--one of the few things in the universe that works that way.

And I also clean up for the cleaning people. And since you are my role model for wise and savvy, I am happy to hear you do it, too. Whew.

Can't wait for the new book!

[Elaine Viets]

I worry about copyediting, Donna, but I'm a former proofreader. I appreciate books that are as typo-free as possible. Such a pleasure to read.

[Dana]

I'm with Elaine (and you, Donna); as a-once-upon-a-time editor, there's a rational quality to editing that is very satisfying. Sure, there may be questions about that comma placement, but there's a finite range of possible correct answers. It's another chance to make the book as good as one possibly can.

I always think of the discussion we had about picking up for the cleaners: it facilitates their wet work.