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That's the story I'm working on for a Ragan.com piece.
Maybe you were a cub reporter and didn't know a nut graf from a lede. Perhaps you were an intern at a PR firm and your boss ripped apart your press release.
Tell us your story about the first time you were edited. What was your first editor
like? What did they say to you that really stuck with you, throughout your
professional career? What did you learn from that specific moment?
The first article I got published was for my high school newspaper, the Holy Trinity "Gold and Blue." It was a piece on Brother Thomas Henning winning the Teacher of the Year award. I wrote that BT, as he was called, won by and overwhelming margin. I misspelled "overwhelming." BT reviewed the piece and pointed out the misspelling. He was cool and reinforced the need to proofread copy before submission. I'm dating myself, but this was long before computers and spell check features. This experience, which took place some 38 years ago, taught me that it's best to have a dictionary handy.
-------------------------------- Edward M. Bury, APR
It was 1996 ... Journalism 101. For one week our instructor had us work on piece. She gave us great ideas to work with, tips for refining, etc ... She made us fall in love with our words. Then she had us all print our our copy, hand it in. and she promptly through it in the trash. Not the recycle bin ... the trash.
She didn't read one word of my masterpeice.
The lesson was never fall in love with anything you write, it probably will be changed in some form or fashion or possibly end up on the copy desk floor.
From that moment on, being edited does not bother me one bit, I trust my editors and don't take it personal.
In college, I noticed that the Assistant Sports Editor of our newspaper rarely made changes to my copy, but that the Chief Editor did (lots of red ink). I made the comment to a fellow reporter that "I don't think Mark's a very good editor. He never changes my copy."
Years later, I married him.
Still several more years later, I told him that story. Exasperated, he said, "That was because I liked you!"
I don't recall my very first edit that well, other than to say that "Big Red" was used throughout the story. Some of my first editors at J-school were very good and actually helped me learn how to write well for real instead of just for a teacher. A few didn't care what I wrote, as long as I wrote about political "dirt."
However, early in my newspaper career, I wish the editor had looked more closely at what I had written. In a write-up about a local bank, I unfortunately called a woman "Booby" instead of "Bobby," and that made the paper. I called her to apologize, and she said that while her co-workers definitely gave her some ribbing, she was a good sport about it. She was flattered and said that, "I wish I WAS booby!"
Basically, what I learned was that you should not count on the editor to catch your mistakes. Give your editor clean copy so that he or she has time to look at the substance of your piece, not just (or only) grammar and spelling.
I went into my college newspaper office thinking I could write. I was a copy editor in high school, and I had a handle on the whole inverted pyramid thing. My college newspaper office, at least at the beginning, did not think I could write.
My editor was a big, no-nonsense, super-senior who had been in the position for a few years and was used to things being written and done his way. My first story, I thought, was an easy piece about a professor winning an award. The night before it came out, I got about 20 annoyed phone calls from my editor looking for follow-up information for the piece. When I saw the article in the paper the next day, it had been completely rewritten. This happened with my first 10-20 articles, to the point where I wondered why they even bothered putting my byline on them and whether I should maybe find a different activity. By my senior year, though, I ended up taking that editor's place at the university desk and traumatized my own batch of freshman (as nicely as I could, of course.)
It was 1976; I had just graduated from the U of Georgia j-school and had landed a freelance assignment writing about a solar house for Mechanix Illustrated. I turned in my piece and got paid. When the article came out 9 months later, I was horrified to see that then editor Robert Beason had changed my masterpiece. I protested indignantly about journalistic purity (as only a young idiot can). To his credit, rather than crushing me like a bug, Mr. Beason used it as a teachable moment. Since I was living in the NE at the time, he called me over to New York City and took me to lunch at Sardi’s. He told me that in the “real” world, people are hired, get paid for things, and then the client owns the work. It was the single most important lesson I learned, and it came in handy later when I owned my own small PR firm. The client may not be right, but the client pays the bill so you accept it or you get out of the game. Bless that man!
It was college, freshman year, a sunny day actually- the day after our first assignment was due. I thought I was a pro. Next thing I knew everyone in the class had a copy of my paper. Embarrassed? Yes. Mad? No. It was one of the best writing lessons I have ever experienced. Not only did the professor mark up my paper, but 20 peers did, with me present. I recall getting them all back, seeing red markings as if I had just learned a new language, thinking, “Wow, I didn’t learn a thing in high school!”
I was a student intern in the athletic department of a university, helping with PR for the sports teams. My boss was a great mentor who sat me down and reviewed every edit he made, explaining each in detail so I would grasp the concept, not just make the change. I learned more about writing from my first boss than any boss since...and that was nearly 25 years ago!
-------------------------------- Beth Mansfield
Director, Public Relations
CKE Restaurants, Inc. - Carl's Jr. & Hardee's
I recall my first media release, written just days into my first position out of college. The marked up draft came back relatively unblemished save for a few content errors that simply reflected a lack of understanding of some areas of the company I had just joined.
More memorable was the note of encouragement -- "Atta Boy!" In hindsight, a great note from my supervisor, but at the time I'd never heard it used outside of the context of training a dog. My supervisor, the Director of Corporate Communications, was a great guy, but also a bit smug. I was offended that he was talking down to me through his note like I was a pet!
I even went so far as to bring up my concern when I met for a recurring 1 on 1 with the VP of the division. Fortunately, she clarified the term's use -- and we joked about it for years after.
Early 70s, writing sports for a suburban Philadelphia weekly. Among other questionable references while covering a high school football game, I wrote "after several powerful thrusts, the ball-carrier penetrated the virginity of the endzone." I thought it was great journalism. Editor, of course, cut it out. I flipped, told him I'd never get a job as a sportswriter if he cut out all my good stuff. He just laughed.
I had to run my copy past five different people. They all made edits, and once I finished rewriting the article, it was crap. That's when I learned the important lesson that too many editors spoil the copy.
My first work editor was a former English teacher. Her markup of my first piece was a bloody massacre. I was crushed. But I got over myself and sat down with her to talk about her edits, and of course she was on the mark.
"Say it with fewer words" was her advice. For a writer suffering compulsive logorrhea that's always been a challenge, but it's served me well.
I also learned not to regard my product as untouchable art. Compromise and collaboration come with the territory. (But so does fending off every C-level bozo who thinks s/he needs final review.)
The first time I had a professional editor, I was working on media releases and personal profiles for a national sporting event. After 30 years in his position, my editor had the reputation of being a great guy, but a brutal editor. The first time I turned in an article I felt so exposed it was like running naked on the field during the Super Bowl. We must have edited, changed and tweaked that piece a dozen times. After weeks, one day he handed me back a profile and said "nice work." I felt like I was in second grade and the teacher just gave me a gold star. Even though he was tough, it improved my skills and the ability to edit myself. (Although I am sweating posting this and wince everyday when I post my blog.)
Well, I've been edited a lot over several decades, and it's difficult to remember the first time my copy was edited. But the best editor I ever had--as well as the toughest--was Tom Duffy, journalism professor at the University of Missouri during the 1960s. Duffy was straight out of "The Front Page" by Hecht & MacArthur. He wouldn't accept BS from anyone and extensively edited everything that was plopped on his desk. We student reporters for the Columbia Missourian dreaded his calling out our last names above the din of typewriters, for we knew we had committed a major offense, either grammatically or factually. But on one particularly cold evening in winter when only the two of us were in the newsroom, Duffy called me back after I had turned in some copy. As I was trying to figure out some excuse for my error, he reached into a drawer and pulled out a bottle of whiskey and two paper cups. Apparently, I had arrived as writer in his eyes. Here's to you, Mr. Duffy!
