Two weeks ago, for Throwback Thursday, I reposted my Linnean taxonomy of newsroom types, among them the copy editors. Every profession and occupation has dubious practitioners, but I realize that in focusing on the regrettable colleagues I have neglected the admirable ones.
Editors, generally, are introverts. We work in anonymity, not being actuated by a vulgar craving for public notice. And we are indeed the nerdity, focusing on arcana of grammar, usage, and expository techniques that civilians do not even recognize—though readers can tell, after our labors, whether a piece of prose is good or bad.
But what goes beyond the stereotype of the solitary editor obsessing over commas and semicolons is the reality that as a class, we are marked by geniality and generosity.
This became clear at the first national conference of the American Copy Editors Society at Chapel Hill in 1997. The reaction of the editors in attendance has been repeated annually by first-timers: "I am not alone. There are others like me. I am a member of a tribe."
Last year, in Toronto for the Editing Goes Global conference, I was standing in the lobby of the Strathcona Hotel when fourteen editors swarmed around me, knowing from my blog that I would be present. Within minutes we were all in the hotel and bar; within hours and days many of them were my friends as well as colleagues.
Because we are not driven by desire for glory, we are happy to share what we know of the craft: to consult, to advise, to train, to mentor. You can see this at our conferences, and it happens in our private dealings with colleagues. We pass on what we know, without expecting a return.
There are, regrettably, editors who are rigid and superstition-bound, who will tear into your text and rewrite it as if they were the author. But I know scores personally and know of hundreds whose principal professional goal is to assist writers in achieving their purpose. You would be lucky to have your work in their hands.