Instead of a photo of myself today, I'm offering a glimpse of my current workspace. The photo doesn't really capture it all (particularly not the laden bookcases off to the right), but it's a fairly good representation of the environment.

What I've learned (#5): Here I will mercilessly steal the words of poet and businessman Dana Gioia (who just stepped down as head of the NEA):

With each promotion at General Foods, I found that my background in the arts and humanities was more relevant. The higher you get in a corporation, the more you're dealing with qualitative issues. By the time I was in senior management, I was very effective in rebuilding businesses because I had good creative judgment—I had kept parts alive that most business executives did not.

(This comes from an article in Fast Company.)

Although I spend a lot of time on this blog (and in my workshops) talking about the importance of sales, marketing, promotion, and the numbers-numbers-numbers, I've found that making the right decision is almost never about looking at the numbers and instead about this creative judgment, usually critical thinking combined with grandiose, technicolor vision. This is what fuels, I would argue, the best businesses (and projects) in publishing today.

Related point: Numbers and money follow, they do not lead. If you manage by spreadsheet, with no regard to the fact that our work relies mostly on humans, you've made a grave mistake. Humans lead. Numbers follow.

At F+W, we route color proofs of book covers for approval, and sometimes they can get "stuck" in someone's inbox. Our production coordinator extraordinaire (Mark G.) included a note on a recent cover to avoid any delays …

To celebrate my 10 years with F+W Media, this week I'm blogging on five things I've learned after ten years in the business. Above I've posted a lovely photo of moi (taken by HR) on my first day of trade publishing life: August 3, 1998. If you like that photo, just wait. I'll post some more treasures from those glory years.

What I've learned #1:

Many authors claim they want good editors—and bemoan the fact that editors don't edit any more—but few authors graciously accept thorough editing and attention from their editors (when it does occur).

You often hear these days that editors no longer edit—that they're too busy doing other things, like meeting with sales and marketing, creating innovative products to compete with digital media, or simply managing the day-to-day tasks of producing dozens of titles per year.

What I've found, though, is that an editor's life can be made miserable if she offers up a thorough development or content edit, because the author's ego (or attitude) gets in the way.

This already sounds like terrible, horrible cliche—the writer vs. editor, us vs. them mentality that, frankly, is quite tired and tiresome for me.

Let's try to take this a step further then, shall we? Perhaps even into positive territory!

1. First, remind yourself that the editor is trying to make the best book possible, and the suggestions/edits are meant to improve the book and help it succeed.

Now, some editors have poor bedside manner (they only make negative comments; they never sprinkle in positive comments or helpful encouragement). I myself am guilty of this. But you must look past it. This editor wouldn't have agreed to work with you if she didn't believe in your idea, in your work, or in you. The admiration is there—the editing process is getting down to brass tacks, it is a laser-like focus on How can we take this to the next level?

The edits aren't there to tell you what you did wrong. The edits are there to provide an outsider's perspective as well as an expert's perspective on your work. This should be invaluable feedback for improving your work and your own skills. If you're scanning the editor's comments looking only for variations of "What a genius you are!" you've completely misunderstood the editor's role. She's not there to bolster your self-worth. She's there to push you and challenge you.

2. You will inevitably disagree with some of the editor's suggestions. This is natural, this is expected, and this is nothing to get upset about.

The editor is not always right, of course. But there's no reason to get angry if you disagree with her suggestions; anger or frustration over edits is wasted energy. Why? See Point 3 below.

Also: Occasionally I work as a freelance copyeditor, and I'm always befuddled when I'm  (frequently) told by the assigning editor, "Don't go too heavy or the author will freak out." Why do authors consider it a bad thing when their work is tightened, clarified, or otherwise improved? As a writer myself, I actually do know why. Because we become far too attached to our own words; we see them as extensions of our mind, heart, or soul. To see any of it cut—it's like having an internal organ dug out with a spoon. Guess what? It's time to stop treating our words as hallowed ground.

If you find yourself disagreeing with everything the editor says, then evaluate whether you both have the same vision for the work. Has there been a critical misunderstanding as far as what the work is supposed to achieve? Obviously there can be different perspectives even when you're both headed for the same goal, but everyone's in trouble if you can't find common ground on the fundamental issues of unique selling point (of the book), target audience, and how to approach that audience.

3. Have a conversation with the editor (via phone or e-mail) in instances where you have a differing viewpoint.

Again, the key is to have a productive conversation—and not flare up or lash out when your work is being revised, questioned, or cut apart. The editor will greatly respect you if you take the following approach in each conversation:

a) Clearly identify the edit/suggestion that you have differing opinions on.
b) Summarize why you think the editor wants you to make the change. If a reason was not given by the editor, ask why the change or revision was suggested.
c) Once you fully understand why the change was suggested, explain either why you think the original version should remain, or suggest an alternative solution.

The key here is that when you explain (c), it should tie into what's best for the reader, the market, or the book. Any editor worth her salt will hear you out, and she'll be persuaded to your way of thinking if your argument is sound.

Most writers are not very good at self-editing—it is an incredibly rare skill. It's why most writers belong to critique groups, so they can get hopefully impartial feedback that will help them improve their work.

It's also part of your skill set to learn how to work effectively with editors. It may not come naturally at first, but if you're lucky enough to have a dedicated editor—an editor who edits—it's a gift. Learn how to take advantage of it, not get upset over it.