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Thursday, September 9, 2010
The importance of editing
By now, I’m sure most net-savvy comics fans have heard cries from the “big issue” complaints of the season, so I’ll forgo the spoiler warnings for some of these mainstream comics happenings: “How could they rape and kill Sue Dibny!” “How could Gwen Stacy sleep with Norman Osborn? That slut!” Also of note: the outcries on HIV-infected sidekicks in Green Arrow, the chaos of Avengers Dissassembled, and Byrne’s reboot/retcon/retread of Doom Patrol. Coupled with the random “errors” in continuity, some fans want repercussions. I can’t count how many times I’ve seen permutations and variations of the lines, “they should fire the editors, the editors are useless,” or however the griping manifests. And, surprising no one, I think those fans are making much ado about nothing. I’m not going to defend Identity Crisis, Avengers Disassembled, Doom Patrol or any other book I haven’t read and have no desire to read. The only book I’ve mentioned that I have read was that Amazing Spider-Man story, and it didn’t really bother me at all. It seems, though, that some fans (not all – some) think an editor’s duty is to: 1. Prevent comics they don’t like from coming out 2. Make sure no pesky “continuity” errors are present 3. Spell-check I couldn’t disagree more. On the first point, it’s only natural that a reader won’t like every title a company – independent or mainstream – is putting out. Clearly, just not reading a comic one hate’s isn’t enough – some want to blame the editor(s) for approving the stories that inspire revulsion. The second point is a little trickier, depending on one’s view on the importance of continuity in comics. Speaking strictly from personal opinion, continuity errors (particularly in mainstream comics that have decades of history) don’t phase me that much, provided the immediate text doesn’t contradict itself. Now, if there’s something in, say, a graphic novel or story arc that isn’t cohesive, that does bug me a little bit, because that is something that can be labeled as “sloppy” much easier. On the third point, well, yeah. Do mistakes get through sometimes? Yes, absolutely. However, that’s all some people see from editors. And that’s not how an editor’s job, in my opinion, should be limited. I can’t claim to know what an editor actually does, in terms of comics companies. I can’t go into the differences between editors in mainstream and alternative comics companies. I know there are more administrative aspects to the job, like getting work turned in by deadline, but that’s not much of an issue for this column. Rather, I’m more concerned with the implications of how an editor affects a story or comic. According to Write Content, editors have various roles in book publishing. Specifically, I want to talk about “content editors.” According to that site, “Although content editors organize, cut, rewrite, clarify, format, stylize, and can write as much as edit, their main focus is on clarifying ambiguities, correcting conceptual problems, and maintaining the tone of the manuscript, ensuring that it's addressed to the particular audience the author and publishing house envisioned it for.” If anything, this is what seems lacking in comics in terms of editorship. In the mainstream comics world, I can understand this. The work, often, isn’t about “big ideas” or themes, but escapist entertainment. That, coupled with the fact that commercial constraints make turning comics around expediently and efficiently of paramount importance, might somewhat limit how much an editor can impact the final product. In fact, I’ve heard it theorized – I can’t begin to speak for the veracity of it – that some creators are free from editorial influence at all because they sell on the basis of their popularity. While that may be true, I do think it could also be a disservice to the editors who are working on those creators’ books. I’m not just talking about mainstream comics here – independent and self-published comics (specifically, self-published comics, in many cases) could use more guidance as well. Some creators do run their ideas by others they trust, I’m sure, but I know of many that don’t. There’s a problem with not getting an outside perspective, though; not surprisingly, creators can be too close to their work to look at it objectively. In their heads, they fill in the gaps that exist in the text because of their familiarity with the concept. They know what they are trying to say, even if that message isn’t present in the work itself. Now, we don’t have much of a public record on how editors contribute to the craft of specific comics – at least, I don’t know of any, and I freely admit that it could simply be my ignorance regarding the existence of those records (and I wouldn’t mind seeing examples of some – I’m a process junkie). What I do have, though is an example from prose novels - The Great Gatsby. Now, bear with me. There’s going to be a point to this incessant rambling about something other than comics, I promise you. Some brief background – Fitzgerald’s early draft of The Great Gatsby was published as Trimalchio in 1995. The name itself (just one of the titles Fitzgerald considered all the way up to the final publication of Gatsby) references a character from Petronius’s Satyricon. In the earlier draft, Fitzgerald borrows heavily from the character of Trimalchio in his descriptions and characterization of Jay Gatsby. The novel is loose, but promising. But after conferring with his wife and Max Perkins, his editor, Fitzgerald takes the criticism and guidance he receives and revises his draft into something more worthwhile. You can skip to the end, if you like – I’m fully aware this may not have that broad an appeal – but you’ll miss out on an example (albeit, a non-comics one) of how an editor can help shape a work. In his early, unedited draft of the novel, Fitzgerald’s Gatsby strongly resembles Petronius’s Trimalchio. The Gatsby in the earlier draft is more rough-hewn, and one can see that Fitzgerald clung steadfast to the images from The Satyricon. In Trimalchio, when Nick first recognizes Gatsby, the image of Trimalchio comes through in Nick’s observations: He was only a little older than me – somehow I had expected a florid and corpulent person in his middle years – and yet he was somehow not a young man at all. There was a stiff dignity about him, and a formality of speech that just missed being absurd, that always trembled on the verge of absurdity until you wondered why you didn’t laugh. I got a distinct impression that he was picking his words with care. 1 Fitzgerald’s description of Gatsby borrow heavily from The Satyricon in the early draft, to the point where the Gatsby of Trimalchio falls far short of becoming a realistic character, and grows little beyond a modern adaptation of Petronius’s nouveau riche Roman. In Trimalchio, there was promise. Only once Max Perkins offered pointed criticism did that promise become actualized and made into something new – Gatsby grew into an archetypal character of his own. Fitzgerald himself recognized the difficulties in the text, and in his 7 November 1924 letter to Perkins, he admits “there are things in it I’m not satisfied with in the middle of the book—Chapters 6 + 7.” 2 However, Fitzgerald did not realize how insubstantial his characterization of Gatsby came across. In his response, Perkins also expresses dissatisfaction with chapters six and seven, and adds criticism of his own regarding Gatsby’s characterization: Gatsby is somewhat vague. The reader’s eyes can never quite focus on him, his outlines are dim. Now everything about Gatsby is more or less a mystery i.e. more or less vague, and this may be some what of an artistic intention, but I think it is mistaken. Couldn’t he be physically described as distinctly as the others, and couldn’t you add one or two characteristics like the use of that phrase “old sport”, – not verbal, but physical ones, perhaps. I think that for some reason or other a reader – this was true of Mr. Scribner and Louise* – gets an idea that Gatsby is a much older man than he is, although you have the writer say that he is little older than himself. But this would be avoided if on his first appearance he was seen as vividly as Daisy and Tom are, for instance; – and I do not think your scheme would be impaired if you made him so. 3 Perkins provides an outside comment on the early draft; his suggestions for Gatsby imply that Fitzgerald must improve Gatsby’s characterization to escape the shadow of Trimalchio present in the early text. Fitzgerald’s reply to Perkins provides further insight on the evolving nature of Gatsby’s characterization. He tells Perkins: It seems of almost mystical significance to me that you thot [sic] he was older—the man I had in mind, half unconsciously, was older (a specific individual) and evidently, without so much as a definite word, I conveyed that fact.—or rather, I must qualify this Shaw-Desmond-trash by saying, that I conveyed it without a word that I can at present and for the life of me, trace. 4 With Perkin’s criticism, Fitzgerald redefines Gatsby’s characterization. The clearer version of Gastby escapes Trimalchio’s image; Nick’s altered original reaction to Gatsby displays a more concrete character. Nick says, “I was looking at an elegant young rough-neck, a year or two over thirty, whose elaborate formality of speech just missed being absurd. Some time before he introduced himself I’d got a strong impression that he was picking his words with care” 5. Fitzgerald hints at Gatsby’s fabricated identity in the initial description, and implies his lower-class origins. Fitzgerald’s greatest improvement to Gatsby’s characterization in the later text is Gatsby’s smile. Like other recurring character-centric cues in the novel (specifically, Daisy Buchanon’s voice), it has a vitality of its own: He smiled understandingly—much more than understandingly. It was one of those rare smiles with a quality of eternal reassurance in it, that you may come across four of rive times in life. It faces—or seemed to face—the whole external world for an instant, and then concentrated on you with an irresistible prejudice in your favor. It understood you just so far as you wanted to be understood, believed in you as you would like to believe in yourself and assured you that it had precisely the impression of you that, at your best, you hoped to convey. 6 The smile punctuates the book; it reminds the reader how charming Gatsby can be, and adds the flair that fleshes out his character. The smile, though, is not a concept completely removed from Petronius’s Trimalchio. Although Trimalchio’s smile is not omnipresent, as Gatsby’s is, his speech shows “an irresistible prejudice” in favor of his guests. He tells them, “Just think, friends, wine lasts longer than us poor suffering humans. So soak it up, it’s the stuff of life. I give you, gentlemen, the genuine Opimian vintage. Yesterday I served much cheaper stuff and the guests were much more important” 7. However, what separates Gatsby’s smile from Trimalchio’s comment is its genuine quality. Trimalchio appears to be playing a part; Gatsby simply reveals his “romantic readiness” and charm. Gatsby, then, becomes a fully rounded character in the final text. Ultimately, Fitzgerald is confident in his characterization with Perkins’s (and, in addition, Zelda Fitzgerald’s) advice. He tells Perkins, “I know Gatsby better than I know my own child . . . Gatsby sticks in my heart. I had him for a while then lost him + now I know I have him again” 8. This confidence resonates through the text; Gatsby appears real, as if he had sprung from Fitzgerald’s head as a fully-grown creation, to borrow from Fitzgerald’s allusion in The Great Gatsby to the myth of Pallas Athena. *** What does all this mean to comics fans? Probably not much, save for stressing the point of giving some credit to editors when a work succeeds in its execution. However, for aspiring comics creators, there are some lessons one can take to heart: • While the work is still not fully formed, bring someone in on the process. You’re, naturally, biased towards your work. An outside person serving as an editor won’t have the same familiarity with it, and – ideally – won’t share your bias for it, which will let him/her see your work for what it is, rather than what you think it to be. In doing so, though, it’s important that you find someone who will look beyond his/her friendship or relationship with you, and will make constructive comments without fear of offending or upsetting you. • People pointing out flaws in your work aren’t pointing out flaws in you. You see these reactions to critical reviews, as well, but by that point there’s nothing one can do save taking the advice to heart in the future. In the formative stages, measures can be taken to make the work more worthwhile. If the work really doesn’t stand up to critical scrutiny, it isn’t the fault of the critic/editor, it’s your fault. • If you’re concerned with the work’s success as artistic expression, rather than commercial viability, take the time to consider suggestions regarding theme. If you’re trying to do more than fill a comic with fight scenes, large-breasted females and “kewl” images, it never hurts to have someone share what they found to be the key elements in the story. Perhaps they’ll have an insight into something that hadn’t occurred to you, and you’ll find yourself inspired to bring out more of that theme in the final product. • Consider taking your work to someone who isn’t a comics fan. In my opinion, one of the chief problems in today’s comics industry is that it seems people are influenced by little else but comics themselves (which I think may be one reason the market often shows signs of shrinkage). It’s probably safe to say that you have, to some degree, been influenced by the comics you have read. Someone not as familiar with the ins and outs of comics reading won’t bring the same common reference to your work, and may notice problems in storytelling, characterization or dialogue that sometimes escape those of us more familiar with the medium. • Remember, no one has all the answers. If, after actually giving the response serious thought, you decide that the suggestions don’t’ fit where you’re trying to go with what you are doing, you don’t have to change your work. Like with medical diagnoses, you do have the right to seek a second opinion. And, of course, check your spelling. -- Ed Cunard * * * * * 1 Fitzgerald, F. Scott. Trimalchio: An Early Version of The Great Gatsby. Cambridge: Cambridge UP, 2000. Pg. 41 2 Bruccoli, Matthew J., ed. A Life in Letters: F. Scott Fitzgerald. New York: Simon & Shuster, 1995. Pg. 85 3Ibid.. Pg. 87 4Ibid.. Pg. 91 5Fitzgerald, F. Scott.The Great Gatsby.New York: Scribner, 1995. Pg 53. 6Ibid.. Pg. 52-53 7Arrowsmith, William, trans. The Satyricon.. By Petronius. New York: Mentor, 1964. Pg. 43 8A Life in Letters. Pg. 91
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April 22, 2008:
February 4, 2008:
November 20, 2006:
A Comic-Con without the Captain
