© Carolyn Haley
I never expected to hear myself say “I love my job.” That’s because for the first two-thirds of my career, I hated my job. Rather, my jobs. Lots of them, all short term because I was miserable in every single one. If I didn’t quit a position, then the company booted me.
On the face of it, this made no sense because I liked the work and did it reliably and well — usually better than my peers — but I hated the position or organization or lifestyle that the job forced me into, and that surely leaked through.
My longest conventional employment lasted five years. Yet for the 18 years since then, I have thrived, thinking almost daily — if not declaring aloud — I love my job!
What changed to cause this happy outcome?
Two simple answers: technology and motivation. But it all started from the facts I could type and I could spell.
My story of A to B (more like A to Z) is relevant to this blog because it’s just one of many pathways that can lead to becoming a self-employed editor in today’s publishing industry. I haven’t found statistics to support my belief, but it seems these days that there are more independent editors than there are staff editors at publishing houses. If anyone has those numbers, please share in the Comments section below.
The bottom line
Because I could type and spell, I bailed out of waitressing for a summer in secretarial school. I performed very well in this environment and upon graduation, moved immediately into secretarial positions. These lasted about 5 minutes each, since I have the wrong personality and memory capability for that occupation.
But I could type, and I could spell — significantly better than my competitors. In that era, the typing pool still existed, so I tested for a position at a bank. My scores were so high, I got invited upstairs to the brand-new word processing center and landed my first “real” job: transcribing letters dictated by executives, on an IBM Mag Card Selectric. In no time, I was working on the new, exciting, dedicated word processing systems with full-page screens and eight-inch floppy drives: Lanier, DEC, Wang.
I took to these like the proverbial fish to water. There began my jump from pond to pond (maybe that was a frog to water). At that time, skilled word processors were the top-paid office workers. That didn’t last long, but it let me transition from small businesses to mega corporate headquarters in their documentation departments. I moved almost as fast as the technology. Desktop publishing soon overtook word processing and typesetting. For a while, my specialty was converting files between systems: PC, Macintosh, Compugraphic … Microsoft Word 1.0, Quark 1.0, PageMaker 1.0 … and on through the versions and their descendants.
Whatever the system, my ability to type and spell remained the constant. Through which I learned so much about so many enterprises!
Defining the goal
The one industry I couldn’t break into was publishing. As a reader and writer, I was keenly interested in books and magazines, and my skills seemed an obvious asset to the creation thereof. But I had no relevant credentials, having dropped out of art school and not transferred anywhere else for lack of funding and direction. In addition, there were no book publishing companies within commuting range of where I lived. I would have had to move to New York City or Boston — which was not an option, because I suffer from “urba-phobia” and will sacrifice anything to not live in a metropolis.
What my home region had in abundance were manufacturing and service companies where people worked with documents, which is why I swam through that channel. Somewhere during the period, I learned that an occupation called “copyediting” existed. Once I understood what that meant, I realized I’d found my niche.
But how to become a copyeditor? No such job title existed in business documentation departments. We didn’t even have anyone called an editor. I’d have had to move into advertising or periodicals to have a chance. Newspapers held no interest. Magazines, like books, were published out of commuting range. There were a few advertising and marketing agencies scattered around, but they were all small — openings there were more available on the secretarial/admin side than the content side. I was better off in corporate communications.
Building blocks
Nonetheless, I sought education in editing. First opportunity came at a local small university, where they offered a semester course in copyediting. It happened that my job at the time, in the WP center of an engineering firm, offered tuition reimbursement, and they agreed that upgrading my language knowledge pertained to my position. So back I went to school.
The course was taught by a veteran of New York City traditional publishing. He not only taught us the trade, including informing us about resources like the Chicago Manual of Style, but also offered examples of tricky copyediting tasks and exceptions I’ve remembered to this day.
I read Chicago cover to cover. I studied other common style guides — AP, MPA, AMA — and acquired American, British, Canadian dictionaries. I invested in a home library. I applied what I learned to the documents I produced. And kept moving on, obtaining positions that I was able to upgrade from typing and spelling to include editing.
In the smaller outfits, I could invent job titles for myself that the employers accepted, even while they didn’t understand them — production editor, copyeditor, proofreader.
Weaving together the threads
Eventually, bowing to the obvious, I changed from job-hopping to becoming a professional office temp. That better suited my nature and also allowed interstate moving around. I ended up in Vermont, where I’ve now lived longer than anywhere else. In this small-population state, with limited economic opportunity, documentation jobs were even harder to get and keep than elsewhere.
My final position, in the creative department of a catalog company, involved every aspect of document production I’d learned over the previous decades: typing and spelling, of course, but also writing and editing, proofreading, page design, software skills and adaptability, including database management — pretty much everything needed to create a publishable product.
During this employment journey, I’d been writing. Novels were always my first love, and I went through the trials a novelist must endure to learn storycraft and navigate the publishing process. Also during this period, the world transformed through the web. Thus, I connected to editorial groups whose members filled in many blanks about editing and publishing. There has been no end of avenues to follow toward further education and support in my chosen field.
The turning point
In close succession, my catalog employer dropped me during a companywide layoff, and the traditional publishing industry unloaded many of its editors. We found ourselves unemployed just as the ability to work at home, online, became viable. By then I had almost 40 years of experience under my belt, and lived on a dead-end dirt road served — miraculously — by high-speed internet. There was no reason I couldn’t carry on independently.
Well, there was one reason: money. My background, although broad, wasn’t deep enough to make me competitive in any publishing realm, especially against editors who had spent decades with big-name publishers. I passionately wanted to work on novels in traditional publishing, but how do you get those creds from a business background? At that point, I hadn’t published my own novels, so I had no qualifications on that side, either.
It seemed I’d come full circle. The only remotely related “real job” opportunities in my field required either one to two hours’ commute, in a climate with rough winters, or moving to metropolitan areas in other states. Relocating was out of the question because of our family and property circumstances. I had to make it as a freelancer in rural Vermont, or take a job in the local retail, service, or tourism sector.
I decided that I would rather go broke doing something I loved with a chance of success than be forever half-impoverished doing something I despised with no hope for advancement, so I committed to editorial freelancing — and took every opportunity that presented itself, in whatever direction, for the sheer, desperate purpose of getting work.
With zero promotional and financial experience, and even less inclination toward those areas of expertise, I reached out to every amenable contact, cold-called publishing companies, responded to advertisements, listed myself in directories, joined marketing networks, took editing and proofreading tests, attended conferences. Slowly but steadily, I gained work and reputation, sampling diverse arms of the industry.
This included projects at the bottom of the barrel with the new “author services” companies, which at last gave me a chance to edit novels. At the same time, I also got projects from some of the big-name traditional publishing houses — when none of their “A list” freelancers were available — and gained some great experience that boosted my credentials.
Layer upon layer, month after month, year after year.
The resolution
I quickly realized that my dilettante background was an asset for a copyeditor. I knew something about myriad subjects, having worked in roughly 50 companies, and in my personal life sampled mixed activities and subcultures. I also read more than 100 novels per year recreationally; and, as time advanced, had three of my own books traditionally published, then self-published them in new format after the contracts expired. Add it all up — and I knew a heckuva a lot about writing, editing, and publishing.
Which dovetailed perfectly into the indie fiction market. Which is where I’ve finally found my professional home. Every day, at my desk before a window overlooking mountain scenery, I edit all sorts of novels written by all sorts of authors, ranging from first-timers to seasoned pros. Each project is fascinating — challenging — fun — and I’ve had terrific clients, some of whom have even become friends, or partners in our parallel publishing journeys. The gratification factor is tremendous.
I still read copiously for enjoyment, which gives passive education; and for active education beyond editing, I not only write reviews of front-line traditionally published novels but also obscure indie-published novels. In the past two years, I’ve added judging indie-novel competitions. An education unto itself!
These have granted me the luxury of reading and writing for a living — my dream from long ago. Any day I’m not working makes me itch to get back to my desk and the literary life. At an age when many people are retiring, I’m loving my job so much I don’t ever want to retire!
Some critics say that a life reading stories is an escape mechanism. I’ve found it to be the opposite: It’s an engagement mechanism. Reading, writing, editing, producing, reviewing, and judging novels have involved me in life more than any other activity. Books give me a center around which all elements swirl and blend, rather than merely being an occupation that pays the rent. Having known the painful disconnect between heart and employment makes me value the integration.
Which is why I go through every day thinking or saying, “I love my job!”
Carolyn Haley is an award-winning novelist who lives and breathes novels. Although specializing in fiction, she edits across the publishing spectrum — fiction and nonfiction, corporate and indie — and is the author of three novels and a nonfiction book. She has been editing professionally since 1997 and has had her own editorial services company, DocuMania, since 2005. She also reviews for the New York Journal of Books, and has presented about editing fiction at Communication Central conferences. She can be reached at dcma@vermontel.net or through DocuMania.
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