When I tell people I’m a writer, they usually ask whether that means I can work in my pyjamas. The answer, I am pleased to say, is ‘Yes’ (here I record my apologies to the nation’s delivery drivers). That aside, people want to know whether it’s difficult (sometimes, especially if you’re stuck) or lonely (I don’t find it is. The loneliest I’ve ever felt is in an office full of people) or stressful (only when I’ve taken on too much work. It’s nothing coffee and a late night/early morning won’t fix.).
So what does being a writer boil down to? For me, it’s about three things: thinking clearly, sorting out your finances and, last (but definitely not least), being kind. And this is how it looks.
Write what you mean
It sounds so obvious, but it’s all too easy to disappear off down an avenue of words that just sound alright together for the moment. Every time you write something and every time you edit something written by somebody else, the first question should be ‘What does this mean?’ Strip away what is unnecessary. Imagine how you would explain it to somebody. Then write that down. This question is at the root of all good writing and all good editing. Always ask yourself what you mean when you write something. And always ask yourself what the client you’re writing for means when they ask you to do something. If you don’t know what something means, don’t write it. Either you’ll risk being wrong (‘disinterested’ vs ‘uninterested’, say), or, worse, you’ll say something that’s just meaningless (‘We are a unique and vibrant community’). Be clear. Be crisp. And read it back to yourself. If it sounds like rubbish when you say it, it’ll be even worse when someone else has to read it. Writing that people actually want to read is not a homework assignment. Don’t just fill up space (‘In order to answer this question I will answer this question’ and so on). If you’re editing work where people have fallen into the homework assignment trap, lift them out of it. Distil their meaning and say it better. That’s why they’ve asked for your help.
‘Live below your means’
I think any kind of writer obsessively reads those horrible ‘Tips for writers’ columns that newspapers are so fond of. I’ve read hundreds of them over the years. They tend towards the vague (‘Know why you are writing’. Okay, that one’s actually not so bad), the pompous (‘The only rule is that every rule is there to be broken’. Great. Thank you) or the intensely miniaturised and overly practical (‘Always use the same strength of pencil’. I’ve made that one up. But you get the general idea).
Only one piece of advice has ever been really, truly useful to me. In fact, it was transformative. It comes from Rebecca Solnit, who said ‘live below your means and keep the means modest’. Freelance writing is many wonderful things. It is enjoyable, interesting, relaxing, exciting, fulfilling. It must be said, though, that it is not often very highly paid. It’s not bad, especially if you go at it hard, but things can get financially precarious from time to time.
Solnit’s advice isn’t easy to put into practice if you have people who depend on you economically, and/or if you’re in a lot of debt. But if you ever find, by some miracle, that neither of those things is true, and that you like to write, then this could be the moment to transform the way you live. I’m not talking about minimalism (although do that if you like. I can see the appeal). I’m talking about spending less and minding less about having less, and about budgeting and saving. Most of all, I’m talking about knowing that every pound you don’t spend is buying you time to write and to be free. Clear some space for yourself, and the writing will come.
Be mean
But only ever to yourself. Working as an editor and proofreader is not an invitation to unleash the Victorian schoolteacher within. If you think you might like editing because you’ll be able to inflict your pedantry on others, then find something else to do. I’m not taking the moral high ground here. I am just as much of a pedant as the next editor. Yesterday, I was behind a van at some traffic lights. Someone had written in the dust on its back window ‘I wish my van wasn’t this dirty,’ and I had to resist the urge to get out, lick my finger and correct ‘wasn’t’ to ‘weren’t’. Your pedantry can be useful. Your knowledge is important. Your fluency with words (although beware: it will sometimes desert you) is what matters. But all of this is at the service of the person you are working for. Your job is to see things from their point of view. What do they want this piece of writing to do for them? How can you help?
Sometimes, when you’re editing, you have to tell the person who wrote the thing that something isn’t working. DO NOT say ‘This doesn’t work’, ‘This isn’t clear’ or any of the kinds of things that bosses say when they fling back reports in the face of hapless interns. Be kind, and be constructive, because that is how you would want someone to be if they were reading your work. So go for ‘I think you could try ‘x’ or ‘y’ instead of ‘z’ here’ (letters standing in for words, by the way. I’m not suggesting you edit formulae in scientific papers. Not unless you really know what you’re doing). Offer two alternative words or wordings if you can, so they can choose what fits their intended meaning and their style best. This is about them, not you. And never grandstand (‘I notice you have consistently spelled ‘spelling’ incorrectly, and have corrected all instances of this’). Just make the corrections and shut up about it.
In other words, good writing and editing is like anything else. Be clear. Be responsible. Be kind, and do as you would be done by.
