What to do when you lose your editor . . .

So, this happened.

About a month ago, I received a surprising email in the middle of an otherwise lackluster day. The email was a goodbye from my editor. I sat at the laptop and shook my head a little. She left? What the hell. She didn’t say anything a few days before when we’d talked about my new book, You Are the Divine Feminine. Now what?

The company sent out an email, reassuring all of us who’d been working with her that everything would be fine, and that we’d be working with someone else for the rest of the project. I was happy to be re-assigned to work with my first editor. About a week later, we had a short conversation about the book, caught up with each other, and she promised to send a schedule for the book itself.

I didn’t think twice about it. I’ve been around the blocks a few times, writing books on deadline, so I wasn’t worried. I had my own schedule, arranged in blocks of time according to the research I needed to do, the outreach I wanted to accomplish, and the actual writing. I had plenty of time.

Then a couple of weeks after the discussion with my “new/old” editor, I was out with a friend and my phone rang. My publisher.

You know how ten thoughts can go through your head in five seconds? That’s what happened. I ran the gamut from excitement (“maybe The Mourning Parade won an award”) to possibilities (“they finally read the new manuscripts” — they’d had my new novel, The Art of Rivers, and a collection of essays for a few months) to a cold dread in the pit of my stomach (“maybe they don’t want the books”).

But what she said was, “Jenny has left, but I don’t want you to worry. You’re still with us, and I’ll work with you on the Divine Feminine until we get someone else on board.”

Boom.

This isn’t the first time I’ve lost an editor when I’ve been working on a book, but this time, I knew what to do.

Once upon a time, I wrote a children’s book about the aviatrix, Beryl Markham. Harper Collins bought it, my editor and I worked on rewrites, and finally, I had it ready to go to a Caldecott-award-winning illustrator whose work I loved. Harper Collins had loved my story so much, they paired it with this powerhouse illustrator. I was thrilled. Chances of success when you have a well-known artist are far higher than if you and your illustrator are fairly unknown. When the publisher informed me my editor was gone, it wasn’t with the reassurance that Amberjack had given me (that I’d still be around). No, it was with the apology that my project was now orphaned, and that too bad/so sad, you’re out of luck, Dawn. 

That’s not unusual. When an editor leaves a publishing house, she usually leaves behind the projects she’s passionate about. Only the famous and powerful take their authors with them. Unless whoever fills her shoes is as passionate about the project, the publisher often abandons the author/projects and lets the new editor determine where her ship will sail.

Another example: I worked with the same editor at Avon Books, House of Collectibles/Random House, and Alliance. Whenever she left a publisher, I went with her (obviously, that happened several times). We worked together for quite a few years, creating books on African-American and Native-American arts/antiques, country antiques, advertising collectibles, and many others. When she finally retired, I did, too, leaving my career of writing nonfiction about art/antiques and moving on to teaching and writing novels.

So, several examples of losing my editor caused me to rethink how to survive when you’re a literary orphan:

1. If the publisher tells you you’re “out,” gather your tent and leave quietly. That means, get the rights back to your book, and get your agent to find another publisher (or find one yourself). If one publisher wanted your work, someone else will, as well.
2. If your editor leaves, contact her. If she’s moved on to another company, talk to her about the possibility of moving with her. Sometimes that will work (it did for me); sometimes it won’t. But you won’t know until you try.
3. If your editor leaves and your publisher still wants you, celebrate, cooperate, and considerate. Celebrate the fact that you have a “home” for your work, cooperate with the publisher to create the best possible foundation for launching your book, and be considerate to those who are new to the project.
4. Get ready for it. The people who fill editorial positions at publishing houses are, for the most part, at the beginning of their careers. It’s not unusual for them to move around, as they work their way up the literary ladder. Figure that it will happen to you at some point, especially if you publish more than one work (yes, the chances are that good that you’ll lose an editor). If you’re ready for it, you know what your options are. Better to be prepared than surprised.

The good news is that I absolutely love my publisher and want to stay with them forever . . . or at least until I have no more books to write. Hopefully, that will never happen.

My thoughts for the day . . .

Peace,

Dawn