The Importance of Listening and Layering
I took a short break from my heavy editing schedule to visit
my hometown to top up on my accent and to let my family know that I’m still
ticking. A short step away from the work station is always recommended, so a
few days in Dublin was a real breath of fresh air, especially after a sustained
period of intense work. I love my job, but a guy's got to get out into the
light at some stage.
I come from a performing-arts' background and am quite used
to being in the company of creative souls, never surprised by their (our) need
to express, or even to climb into a dark hole, so I wasn’t bothered in the
least when three chirpy young ladies sat at my table on the train home
yesterday. They were happy, even festive, laden with large shoulder bags, and
smelling quite wonderful, though I wouldn’t recommend lighting a flame anywhere
nearby.
I couldn’t help smiling when the bags emptied and a wide
variety of eye-shadows and make-up piled onto the table top. I thought this
interesting, and told them so – in slightly more colourful language – and they
explained that they’d just finished a year-long make-up course and were heading
to a music festival (a rave) in Sligo to blow off a little post-exam steam.
So I quickly realised that I was in the company of three
budding make-up aficionados, and about to witness what was to become a
three-hour metamorphosis that would see three happy-go-lucky graduates apply
their skills between slugs of gin and vodka (necessary lubrication by all
accounts) until they transformed themselves into what one expects to see on the
catwalk, or on the glossy cover of fashion magazines. In saying that, they still
had to get to base to sort out hair and costume.
My point about all this is that I was seeing three creatives
do exactly what a writer does with words. They created a basic outline, then
built it up with carefully applied layers of colour and texture that developed and
connected visuals and impressions, ultimately bringing together many disparate
lines to produce the final multi-dimensional product. And during the whole process,
they worked together to give and receive constructive (almost always) feedback
that sometimes evoked screeches of frustration as they erased and reworked
lines and shades. But they were always willing to hear what the others had to
say, not always agreeing, but at least open to suggestion, because they simply
couldn’t see things as well as the others, just like a writer, who needs
another pair of eyes to see things from a broader, more objective perspective.
While my favourite phase when working with a writer is the
first-fix—my initial deep-focus line-edit—I also love when they return their
rewrite, which is not only a result of their application of my editing
suggestions and notes, but also feedback from their beta-reading team, which
gives them my professional view and reports from their peers—a dedicated reader’s
perspective—essential advice in parallel with my own.
An attitude I encourage all my clients to adopt is a
willingness to dig a little deeper and to at least be willing to listen to
suggestions. If an idea works, great. If not, it takes no energy to disregard
it and move on. In the end, the writer always has the final say, though I may
fight my corner as we work through the process.
The three-hour journey flew by as my companions worked their
personal canvases through several drafts and came out proofed to a T, ready to
take Sligo by storm. A glowing example of the power of creative interaction. Thank you, ladies, for the colourful and somewhat eye-opening experience.
