When a Happy Editor Made me Miserable

(a new adventure in publishing)

A line that years ago came back to me when my career seemed in trouble was from the 1794 Gothic novel Caleb Williams: "My fairest prospects have been blasted."  Melodramatic?  Maybe, but it fit the moments when I felt despair about some new failure, some new dead end.

On the other hand, there've been many times when my dreams came true, like being reviewed in the New York Times Book Review, getting sent on more than one European book tour, seeing my work taught at universities and translated into over a dozen languages, and the call from a New York editor who said, "I love your work, do you have a book for us?" 

I was thrilled, of course, and actually did have a book I'd been tinkering with, an essay collection that became Writing a Jewish Life.  The title was taken from a memoir essay that had been published a few years before in Tikkun, a "get" that was another dream of mine because I admired the magazine so much.

My caller turned out to be a good editor and everything seemed to be going well as the book went into production.  I liked the moody, evocative cover; my copy editor was thorough but not intrusive; the publishing schedule was great because the book would come out well after a German book tour I was going on for another book.  Also worth mentioning: The advance on royalties was exactly what I wanted (and it paid for my wedding).

While spending a weekend in Stratford, Canada to see some plays, I got an email from my editor telling me how lucky we were: the publisher was crazy about my book and wanted to move the pub date forward from next spring.  My editor attached the galleys and asked me to get them done in two weeks, which is fairly standard.

Except for the timing.  I was leaving the next day for Germany to do a book tour and had already informed him I wouldn't be in regular touch during the tour.  Now, I asked him to wait till I got back.   The two weeks didn't seem to be problematic to me.  But he thought they were:  "Our schedule is tight and you need to correct them while you're gone."

When I started publishing, a novelist friend warned me that "the only thing worse than not being published is being published." He meant it seriously, telling me that there would be all sorts of problems I could never have imagined.  He was right.

My editor was happy to share his news, but I wasn't.  I don't think he realized that a book tour takes every second of your concentration when you're onstage, when you're meetings fans, when you're dining with sponsors--and when you're making your way from one city to the next, assessing what went right at the previous event one and what might have gone wrong.  A tour is exhausting and you're lucky to get a good night's sleep anywhere. There's very little down time and there's certainly no time for finicky work like proofing galleys of a book because that requires microscopic attention to make sure things are as correct as possible.  No book is perfect, but you still need all your concentration for the work. 

This was years before I had an iPad or laptop, so I had to rely on internet cafes in Berlin and other cities to stay in touch.  Not surprisingly, the German keyboards had the letters in different places and letters that weren't in the English language.  Friends said my early emails to them looked like I was drunk-typing, or fogged in.

Given my confusion and the steep learning curve, I wasn't going to try to master German keyboards and work on the galleys in between events--that seemed nuts.  I tried to explain the problem and asked for a two-week postponement.  The editor said that was impossible and assured me, "Don't worry, I'll get someone else to do it."

I was concerned about a stranger proofing my work at the stage when it was my job, and I was right to be anxious.  As it turned out when I saw the next stage of production, the page proofs, there was repetition that would never have been there if I'd had the chance to catch it the first go-round.  I was angry and embarrassed, and instantly thought Reviewers are going to blame me.  I called the publisher himself to beg for changes but he said it was too late and it would be too expensive.  So the book I was proud of came out with flaws that spoiled the experience of seeing it published.

Over the years, fans of mine have told me it's their favorite book, but it irks me that the publisher rushed the book and rushed me--for no discernible reason.  And I did get criticized by at least one reviewer for not doing a solid job of correcting my own work.  I thought of writing to him to explain what happened, but it would have meant implicitly bad-mouthing my editor, which didn't seem like a wise career move.

Nothing like that has happened to me since.  Knock on wood.