Most writers don't love editors. I do. Back since Beth Hagman at Competitor Magazine told me to tell stories in the most linear fashion possible ("the horse pulls the cart over the trail by the fastest route"), the notion of editors crafting a story has been in my head. Through Jason Kaufman, Geoff Shandler, Gillian Blake, and Brent Howard, these wonderful people have made me better.
And don't get me started on how much I love copy editors.
This gushing deserves an explanation. I'm just back from Mammoth training camp. It was a monastic week, my time divided between coaching, running, writing, and reading. Calene wasn't with me so it felt like just me and the mountains. There were the visits to Roberto's and Mammoth Tavern, though always with a book and always just long enough to eat my dinner and get back out onto the condo deck, where I'd read until sunset. I'd fall asleep to raindrops on my phone, the voice of a guided meditation the only sound I'd really paid attention to in hours.
But into that lonely (and I will admit to feeling alone, an unusual sensation for the lone wolf I prefer to advertise. Being without Calene for a week in such a quiet space became a reminder of how much I depend upon our cues to navigate the day) routine was a week of surprise, satisfaction, and calm that made it the most memorable week since I began taking teams there to train eighteen years ago.
The fun moment came one night, watching the Netflix series Quarterbacks. Episode Six features a moment when Kirk Cousins of the Minnesota Vikings asks a Barnes and Noble clerk if she has my books in store. He mentions me by name. Which, by the way, is very cool. I always thought I wanted to be a famous writer but now I know how much I dislike being recognized. I just like to write. But I love those moments when my name comes up in media, like the couple times I've been a Jeopardy question and that moment in Quarterbacks. It's one of those things that validates a lifetime of hustle in a most unusual way.
Somewhere, in some small studio, a very kindly editor let that moment make the final cut. I'll bet he even said something like "let's stoke the shit out of Martin Dugard by keeping this moment in the show."
He did.
And then there was the writing.
I've written before about the need to "break up" with a project to emotionally commit myself to the next. My novel has already gone by the wayside because I'm not ready to love the characters as much as they need to be loved. Their time will come. That book is already outlined and ready to be discovered. And while I have some non-fiction calling to me, the going has been slow so far. Taking London has been "complete" for a month but it nags at me. I read The Wager while I was up in Mammoth (also finished Dennis Lehane's Live by Night and Tom Vitale's Anthony Bourdain piece) and had this moment that I thought TL was a pretty solid work — but could I do better? The writing is pretty good, the research is sharp, but could I do better? Could I do better? Could I do better?
And then I had this moment when I realized Taking London could be better than The Wager. I don't have a New Yorker pedigree but I can write the shit out of history. Then I admitted TL had a few holes — holes I really need to fix. Nothing a reader will pick up on right away, but omissions and logic gaps that might leave all of you demanding more of my storytelling.
And in those moments, sitting alone on the condo porch under a canopy of pines, watching the setting sun bounce off Mammoth Rock, I wished for one more chance to fuss with Taking London. But that wasn't going to happen. It's done. "In production," as they say in publishing. I've had my last chance to play marionette with the words on those pages.
But wouldn't it be cool to make it right? Not right: Perfect. Or as perfect as I can be right now.
The next morning I got an email. Big changes were underway at my publisher and I had a new editor. She loves the book but has some issues. She was wondering if I could make changes to Taking London. Surprise, surprise. And her changes were the same ones I'd been longing to carve into the manuscript. Oh, how I love a challenge. So it's on like Donkey Kong. Taking London comes out in May 2024. Read it and drop me an email to let me know if I've stepped up or not.
Got home yesterday. Five hours and change. I'm at the point in life where my boys are grown and I miss the dogs most when I'm away. But Sadie and Django, after an enthusiastic homecoming, turned their backs to let me know they were a little upset I'd gone away at all. So I finished the Lehane book out on the back porch as the sun set over Dana Point, then rose early to pick up Calene at the airport. Damn, it was so nice to wrap my arms around her. She makes me a better man.
The monastic week is over. But it set the tone for the next year. Ch-ch-ch-changes. That's what editors do. Bring it.