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Editors in Conversation - Book launches

Editors in Conversation
Kerry Biram, Diane Brown and Jenny Craig (eds.)

Launch speech by Gina Mercer, Editor, Island Magazine
IPEd Conference, Hobart, 10 May 2007

In a previous life I worked as an academic in a regional university. One day my boss decided to send me to a 'Women in Leadership' workshop - the university needed more token women on its committees - she says cynically. The course was not enormously useful but the facilitator did hand us one metaphor which, being a poet, I gleefully collected and carried home. She spoke of the predominant metaphor of a lifelong career as being that of climbing a ladder - you start on the lowest rung and claw, climb or clamber your way to the top kicking off any other would-be climbers along the way. Ladders are cold, uncomfortable, uncollegiate and, to a woman in a tight-fitting skirt and high heels (just ask Beryl Hill about climbing the ladder up into Manning Clark's study), ladders can be downright dangerous. The alternative metaphor given by the workshop leader involved a lattice. She put this lattice up in her back yard and planted two geraniums at the base and stood back imagining the whole lattice covered in healthy leaves, studded with vibrant flowers .... Well the geraniums did grow but they grew a little bit up and then across and then down and then across in another direction and then downwards again. It all looked a bit random and straggly and she became very frustrated at the eccentric and eclectic behaviour of her plants. Then she got busy and had no time to worry about it until one morning a couple of years later she happened to glance at her lattice as she rinsed her coffee mug at the sink before dashing off to work. To her surprise and delight she observed that her lattice was completely covered with thriving leaves and masses of vibrant blossom - her vision had been fulfilled.

Why am I talking to you about geraniums? Well, I'm a poet and we are known to be eclectic and eccentric and utterly unable to resist a good metaphor ... but actually that metaphor surfaced very strongly for me as I read this marvellous book Editors in Conversation. Why? Because each of the eight powerful women whose voices we hear in this book - each of them has a career which is the equivalent to a backyard awash with masses of geranium blossom. The stories of these women's careers are not stories of ladders and cold ruthless climbs. They are stories perfumed with intelligence, empathy, strength, nurturing, analysis, support and gentle but undeniable achievement.

Anitra Nelson in her conversation with Sheila Allison and Pamela Ball puts it well when she says "editing is a kind of travel in itself" (p. 27). And that is exactly how I felt as I read this book. As if I was invited along on a fascinating and warmly intimate journey with my female elders (a term I use as one of absolute respect and with no reference to chronological age - simply referring to their many years of collective experience). It was a privilege to travel with these wise women and to hear how their careers began (often with a fresh bucket of serendipity as fertiliser) and how, like the geraniums growing on the lattice, these women grew their careers with strength, integrity and grace - often going in apparently eclectic directions - no allegiance to ladders here - until their careers had blossomed into pleasing and substantial shapes which fit their well-rounded lives.

Being astute analysers of language, all of you will have recognised the gendered nature of the ladder versus geranium/lattice metaphor. The ladder is cold, hard, vertical and thus indubitably masculinist in nature. While the floral, spreading, colourful geranium/lattice metaphor is clearly stereotypically feminine. These are not stereotypes which I seek to reinforce today but this engaging book does raise some very interesting questions regarding gender.

For example one of the questions asked of these successful and dynamic women was: "Have you stopped feeling like a fraud?" (p. 150). I was a little shocked to see this question but secretly and enormously relieved because I have to say that after I agreed to launch this book some months ago - I went home and thought: "What have I done? I can't stand up in front of all those expert editors at their national conference and speak about this - I'm a fraud, I'm not a 'real' editor with 'proper' qualifications". So it really resonated with me that this question was asked of these women and they all acknowledged this feeling of fraudulence even after forty plus years in the profession. It could probably serve as a PhD topic to answer the question as to why we have this feeling but it really struck me. If this was a book about, say, bankers or dentists who had worked hard at their careers for many years and been as undeniably successful as these editors - would anyone have even thought to ask a question about feeling like a fraud? Would those successful men (probably all men with perhaps one token woman they'd sent to many 'Women and Leadership' courses) have even registered such a feeling, let alone discuss it in a public forum? I am certain the answer to that question is 'no'.

I'm not exactly sure what percentage of editors around the nation are women but I'm told it's an overwhelming majority. Pamela Ball remarks at one stage that an apt description of editing is "knowledge management" and I'm thinking that if more men were to take up editing as a profession they'd probably start to declare themselves to be "knowledge managers" on their taxation and census forms. It sounds so much more important and 21st century than the term 'editor', doesn't it?

Yet I like the term 'editor' and wouldn't advocate that we change it to fit the latest 'buzz' idiom. Which brings me to a curious and fascinating paradox in this thoroughly engaging book. In their conversations these editors describe their work in the following terms: silent; invisible; isolating; frustrating; under-rated; unrecognised; unnoticed; and drastically underpaid. As a long-term feminist this list of adjectives struck me as very, very familiar. It's accurately been used to describe any number of tasks (paid and unpaid) which have, by tradition, been seen as "women's work". Yet the work of editors is, like many other women's jobs, absolutely essential. In any form of communication, the quality of the reading experience and the levels of information transfer depend utterly on us doing what we do, effectively. What we do is an essential service.

Pamela Ball who'd always thought her job was seen by her organisation as being that of the "backroom girl" (p. 137) was stunned when her boss recognised her contributions by saying: "Pamela has done more to save this department from embarrassment than anyone else I know. She has taught us how language can make or break meaning and help or hinder communication". (p. 137) Such recognition of the worth of editors is, unfortunately, all too rare.

This book, importantly, acknowledges the fact of the invisibility, misunderstanding and stereotyping of editors in the community. The women whose stories we read here have all experienced the effects of that stereotyping in profound ways throughout their careers. But the book itself is an act of activism and resistance. In publishing these stories this book effectively counters the misunderstandings. It acts, it speaks into the silence about the work we do, to make us palpable and visible where we have been quietly rendered invisible. This book is a timely, welcome and necessary work of advocacy on behalf of our profession. I think everyone should read it.

The editors we hear in this book have admirable and interesting careers. I thoroughly enjoyed being invited to travel into their backyards of blossoming geraniums. It has been a privilege to share their collective wisdom. Their careers are testament to the very many skills an editor exercises in her workplace every day. These stories reveal to us women of intelligence, empathy, organisation, adaptability, women with high levels of persuasive power, analytical and management skills, combined with great sensitivity, humour and deep curiosity about the world.

These editors' very speaking eyes reach out to us engagingly from the cover of this book, inviting us to share their valuable perspectives on this profession we love yet feel so strangely fraudulent about professing. I congratulate all who have been involved in the creation of this book and warmly welcome it into the world where I wish it every success - it deserves vast bunches of geraniums and many other accolades.

Editors in Conversation 2

National launch speech by Pamela Ball
4th IPEd Conference, Adelaide, 9 October 2009

Thank you to the Victorian Society for allowing me the pleasure of introducing Editors in Conversation 2 to you.

It's a book of two parts. The first part recognizes eight Society of Editors Honorary Life Members; the second part recounts one editor's involvement in a project that most of us would die for.

I'll deal with Part One first and I'll start with an act of ageism. (It's OK - I've passed the eligibility test.)

When I leafed through Part One of Editors in Conversation I was bowled over by the depth and breadth of experience that was crammed into 126 pages. How could this be? Well, I thought, maybe it was because there were so many years crammed into the lives of these eight interviewees. When I totaled their ages, the answer came to 549 years, which means an average age of just under 70. Even if we start the calculation from age 18, it still comes to roughly 400 years of working experience. So, if you're as intelligent, enterprising and charming as these eight Honorary Life Members reveal themselves to be, you can achieve an amazing number of things in 400 years.

In the dining-out fashion of the times, here's a degustation menu of the many and varied things that these people have encountered over those years - and here's a warning: the name-dropping is unavoidable!

This was Ruth Dixon, an Australian working in London.

In 1964, I ... farewelled Longmans, and went to ... Faber & Faber. Being a much smaller company I was thrown in head first.... And on some days, a certain immaculately dressed TS Eliot would enter the front door and ascend to his office.

Or this from Jackie Yowell.

Oh, how could I forget Gough Whitlam's The Truth of the Matter [Penguin, 1979] ... working closely with a giant of a man whose erudition was terrifying - and whose rage could be terrifying too, though he didn't maintain it for long!

Basil Walby and Nick Hudson each changed career - a very common experience in the 80s.

Basil: Well, we had one of our frequent palace revolutions in CSIRO and they brought in a soap salesman to run the information publishing library operations ...My job disappeared, in fact. There were three editors-in-chief in CSIRO from the word go, and I was the third and last. There's never been one since. They put in a manager.

Nick Hudson: My experience was similar, but it wasn't a palace revolution. The parent company was taken over, and they brought in this very dour individual with extraordinarily limited intelligence. I think he was fearful that I would remain loyal to the old regime ... So he dismissed me. ...

Or this from Barbara Ker Wilson, Hon Life Member twice over, in NSW and Queensland.

Oh, people usually say I discovered Paddington Bear and Captain Pugwash but that was ages ago. At The Bodley Head I helped to complete the last of the CS Lewis Narnia series... When The Last Battle was awarded the Carnegie Medal, Professor Lewis asked me to accept the medal on his behalf, and sent me a marvellous speech to read out. I practised it for days.

Janette Whelan talked of her work on the committee for Australian Standards for Editing Practice.

Hard work, but it was the finest committee I have ever been involved with. We all got on exceedingly well. Nobody was precious about her work. That was the marvellous thing about working with eight women.

Teresa Pitt tells of her encounter with Barry Humphries.

The most fun I ever had working with an author was when I worked with Barry Humphries to produce the Sandy Stone book.... Barry kept coming up with funny stories, hysterically witty comments, and jokes and puns. I have to say that was the greatest fun...

As a last taster, here's Colin Jevons being somewhat provocative.

...when I left the publishing industry ... as a result of an involuntary career change, I discovered somewhat to my surprise that what I'd been doing all this time ... was actually marketing. ... I think the commercial reason for employing an editor is to sell more books. ... it's actually no different philosophically from some chemist in the Coca-Cola laboratory figuring out how to make Coke even sweeter or whatever.

Out of these few tastings one can pull any number of themes but I'll touch on a few that strike me as interesting and important.

1 Becoming an editor

This is always fascinating. For most the passion began very young, often through family experience and four out of eight had edited a school magazine. What possibly differentiates their generation from the emerging one is the experience of becoming an editor. Back then you got a toehold in the door of a publishing firm and gained knowledge and experience by osmosis, through observation, mentoring and just doing it. I suppose this sink or swim approach means that some drowned on the way and we only know the champion swimmers. But what a training it was - hands-on, multi-faceted and comprehensive. For many of the interviewees, the current notion of formal accreditation is a good one but there is some fear that the editing horse has already bolted from the publishing stable because the bottom line doesn't allow the luxury of editing time; it's marketing that controls the purse strings. However, many of these editors have learned through involuntary separation that being self-employed has advantages. If publishing houses have cut their internal staff, they will surely still need to employ some freelancers. The new generation of aspiring freelancers will have to make it their business to pursue excellence through university and TAFE courses, and somehow develop the experience, knowledge and skills that will equip them to pass the exam.

2 The good old days

It was inevitable that the good old days were given a good run. I did a count and found 18 references to 'fun' - great fun, tremendous fun, such fun, etc. This reflects the cooperative and usually very democratic nature of the major publishing houses, in the UK and Australia, and the fact that they valued creative people.

It was always first-name terms regardless of who you were. There was no humbug. That's what I really liked about the 'good old days'. Janette Whelan

The other fond memory of this time, which came to an end in roughly the mid-80s, was that these editors were involved in the whole publishing process, from the first commission to seeing the publication come off the press. They compared this with today, where it's very few lucky editors who can take responsibility or even observe a publication from the kernel of an idea through to its birth. Marketing runs the publishing company and the editor is sitting in freelance isolation.

3 Technological revolution - good or bad?

The paradox of the technological revolution was another theme for discussion.

I get a little tired of people who think the computer is the be-all and end-all - a substitute for clear thinking and solid knowledge of the English language. Janette Whelan

However, no-one disputed that editing, design and typesetting are much easier to do these days. Hot metal was exciting, preparing copy for the printer was exacting, but things now allow for so much more flexibility. It's just that too often the wrong people are given this miraculous publishing tool and they have no guidelines for its use.

One solution? Editors must push their professional barrow more vigorously.

4 Working for the Society of Editors - a common thread

All eight of these Honorary Life Members of their state society are clearly esteemed by their peers and recognized for the contribution they have made to setting up their society, to providing training and mentoring in all aspects of editing and publishing, and to providing companionship and support to hundreds of editors, young and old, over the decades. They all expressed great pride in being singled out for the HLM honor and while acknowledging the effort and time they have devoted to the cause, that word kept on appearing - it was great fun!

Now for Part 2 - Three books and a film is the transcript of a presentation made to the Victorian Society of Editors by former Penguin publisher Julie Watts. Julie tells the story of the evolution of Mao's Last Dancer - the book, the young readers' book (condensed by Barbara Ker Wilson) and the children's picture book, all based on the autobiography of Li Cunxin. The film version directed by Bruce Beresford premiered recently and is now screening in Australian cinemas. Julie Watts, recipient of the Dromkeen Medal and the Pixie O'Harris award for her services to children's literature, gives a fascinating account of working with Li on a manuscript that grew and grew, eventually to 680,000 words. She says many warm things about Penguin's senior editor, Suzanne Wilson, who did painstaking background research and worked with Li to cut the words down to 150,000. This was a logistical nightmare - 'what to do with 680,000 words every one of which we loved!'

Her account emphasizes the importance of the relationship between publisher, author, editor and designer.

We were a dream team, with a shared vision, and we all worked so hard to make it happen, to ensure that others would love Li's story as much as we did.

Make sure you read Julie's story - it's truly inspirational.

In this brief time I can only skate across the surface of this engaging collection of conversations. I encourage you to delve deeper and take inspiration from a previous generation of thinkers and achievers in the world of publishing. As I launch Editors in Conversation 2, I congratulate all those involved in its development - the contributors and interviewers, and the general editors from the Society of Editors Victoria - Kerry Biram, Diane Brown, Jenny Craig and Wendy Owen.

Pamela Ball
Honorary Life Member
Society of Editors (SA)