So I recently met with my editor (who has asked to remain anonymous), and showed her some of the preliminary chapters for the book I've been commissioned to write.

 

She seems impressed with my wordplay, and likes my title, but told me about a few particular concerns she had with my general ideas.

 

"They're interesting," she said, "and well-articulated, and pretty damn funny, too, but... well...  It's just not passionate enough."

 

Now, my editor is a seasoned professional, who does her damnedest to correct my spelling and grammatical errors (which I often flagellate myself later for having made in the first place).  And admittedly this is a very small start-up company--I hesitate to even name it, depending on whether they go public or not (especially considering there are several good friends of mine involved in this endeavor and I do not want to jinx their efforts).  But, as any aspiring or professional writer knows, when your editor gives you any kind of criticism, it's very important to take notes because following up on those notes will get you published faster.

 

"Your ending is a little flat," she said.  "And your beginning needs a better hook.  Some other little places lack the bite of your previous critical works."  She pointed out the pages and paragraphs in particular.  "And, while you clearly have a goal with this book--and it is a good goal, I have to say--you need to properly identify your motivation for illuminating readers about this goal.  You also have to justify your motivation on several levels."

 

"Any particular levels I should pay attention to?" I asked, scribbling into my notepad.

 

"I think you ought to take a few weeks or so to expand on how your goal is relevant to hearts and minds," she explained.  "There are personal revelations to be gleaned from your work, and perhaps you should detail how your goal for general behavior not only affects people as individuals, but also local and global communities as a whole.  After all, this is a manifesto mostly pertaining to internet conduct."

 

I nodded, still scribbling notes.

 

"And there is a market for that kind of sociological and philosophical exploration... but this is really the tricky part," she said, thoughtfully interlocking her fingers.  "You have to be specific.  You have to stick to strong, clear, incisive language and go to great lengths to avoid the slang terms and non-essential words."

 

"So, no Chuck Norris jokes, I take it?"

 

She snorted with laughter.  "Chuck Norris IS a joke.  However, unless the company head tells me otherwise, I'd suggest you save those for your blog."

 

"No problem," I said, lamenting that I haven't been fulfilling that part of my id for a long time...

 

"For your first book, anyway," she added, nonchalantly.

 

Her emphasis on the word "first" surprised me.  "My first book?"

 

"If your manifesto does well enough, you might be given license to write some new books," she explained, smirking.  "And they won't necessarily have to be on the same subject as this one."

 

"Seriously?"

 

She nodded.

 

"Are you shitting me?"

 

She shook her head.

 

"I thought that was a temptation," I said.  "They'd really let me write more than one book?"

 

She nodded again, smiling.

 

Dumbstruck, and secretly wondering if it would be bad form to pull an Adrian Brody and kiss my editor full on the mouth, I said, "I thought the company head thought I was an irreverent wise-ass."

 

"You are," she said.  "And that's the kind of moxie that will get you far around here, if you're lucky.  Also, the marketing group is working on a redesign for the company's over-all image and some of the other authors have been extremely lax about their deadlines."  She rolled her eyes, and mumbled something about hating to call those people, but did not elaborate on which ones had been dragging their feet (although I have my suspicions...).  "So, essentially, we need somebody with publishable material ASAP.  And, given how much you've accomplished so far, you seem to be that much closer to being that somebody."

 

"Well, I do have work obligations," I said.

 

"Understandable," she said.  "In these times, you're lucky to have a day job."

 

"But, as you know, this book is very, very important to me," I continued, "and I will do my damnedest to fix its problems so that the company can publish it.  For the sake of art and philosophy, I will allow myself to once again become a guinea pig.  When would you like my next draft?"

 

She gave me my deadline and informed me that I may officially announce the publication date in as many places as I possibly can... as soon as that information becomes available.  And you can bet your ass I will.

 

"And, if I may ask," I added, before our conversation came to a close, "what is the general concensus on the swearing?"

 

My editor grinned and replied, "There's nothing wrong with creative swearing.  Hell, that's practically why we signed you on."

 

And, on that happy note, I left her office to return to my writing desk.  With any luck, I should be getting a pleasant vacation in mid-September, which I plan to devote to finishing my book.