Allie Chee initiated contact with me for help improving her manuscript, a funny, savvy, and smart guide for independent women dealing with (the variety of) difficult guys in modern life’s turbulent settings. It was her way of finding out if I’m the right editor for her to work with. We’d already had a long phone conversation, so she knew I’m sympathetic with her material and easy to communicate with, as well as knowledgeable about how to move her toward publication (and, hopefully, income).
The situation is typical of what new clients can expect from working with an editor (as least with me). I usually ask for the first chapter – which helps me orient to the topic – though frequently it is the most challenging one to edit, and a chapter which is most problematic for the writer. These give me a picture of how much time the editing will take, so I can prepare an estimate. (I’ll blog on that process, too.)
Allie (whom I hadn’t met yet) emailed me the first 25 pages. I reformatted them to publishing standards – double-spaced Times New Roman (though I much prefer Bookman Old Style for readability) and added a header with her name and page numbers (so when I glance at the stacks in my office I can quickly identify what I’m looking for). I hope all you writers are taking note of this to save your editor that extra wear and tear.
I printed them out – I find that editing a book, as opposed to short business communication, benefits enormously from this extra step – and bound them temporarily in a spring clip binder (only available any more from Staples online (http://www.staples.com/clamp+binder/directory_clamp+binder) – I’m not getting a cut of their sales: they are an essential tool for my writing life). I marked up the hard copy with specific editing suggestions as well as comments about the patterns in her writing that need correcting. I mailed this back to her. Here’s her response:
“I’m working through the corrections and I appreciate your precision. Not much gets past you! : ) This is going to be a great learning experience for me. Writing is like dancing–no matter how good you get, a teacher can help you see how you still suck!!! How do I address my issue with parallel structure? (I hope that isn’t like the person without rhythm asking how they can get some rhythm! That just reminded me of Billie Holiday, ‘He ain’t got no rhydem, so nobody wid him, the loneliest man in town.’)”
This gives you a flavor of Allie’s “voice” as well as why I love working with clients!
Did I ever answer her question about how to avoid parallel structure? Probably not. In her particular case of Parallel Construction Deficiency Syndrome, teaching by example was best: circling each place it had erupted and doing topical surgery to demonstrate the cosmetic improvement by writing in the correction. If she can’t learn from this, I’ll be running up more hours on her tab when she sends me the full manuscript.
I hope that my diagnosis does not interfere with her writing process – there’s a terrific ease and playfulness in her style that should not be suppressed. What she can do before sending me more material to edit, is try to identify and correct all the blemishes that clued me into the existence of the syndrome.
I am not making an issue of parallel construction because I’m a grammarian who judges my clients, but because I love clarity of thought and precision of language. I think every reader deserves to be treated kindly in that department. Trying to make sense of unparallel phrases is like trying to find a house in a wooded, hilly neighborhood in the dark when the mail boxes aren’t all numbered.
If your content is useful, write directly to the point. Your voice or your literary flavor will not be constrained by clear construction, even if stylistically you choose to write in incomplete sentences (see, I’m not a grammarian). And your readers won’t give up because of confusion in the verbal map you’ve been laying out for them.
Until next time, delight in the process.
Download PDF: Editor’s Nightmare #1: Parallel Construction Deficiency Syndrome