A Portrait of the Editor as a (Much) Young (er) Man They say every good writer needs an editor. I don’t know if that’s also true for the bad and indifferent ones but --- whichever kind of writer I am --- an editor surely I’ve got.
And he’s 15 years old and I used to diaper him!This wouldn’t bother me if Brandon Block would approach my humor writing with a deft and gentle red pen. But he rips into my work like Ben Bradlee editing the latest tell-all book by Kitty Kelley!
“Dad, lose that entire concept!” snapped Brandon last week, peering over my shoulder at the locked-up Microsoft Word document pulsating on my PC screen. “It sucks!”
“Why, Brandon?” I asked. “The Lone Ranger needs a new companion and instead of a native American, he hires a Jewish man. Funny!”
“Not funny, Dad!”
“But, Brandon, instead of shouting a hearty ‘Hi - Yo, Silver!’ he shouts a hearty ‘Hymen Silvers!’ Funny!”
“Dad, totally lame.”
"Why???" I protested.
“Because nobody knows who the Lone Ranger is! That character hasn’t been on TV in my lifetime!”
Well, like I said: All writers need an editor and I’m fortunate to have one with his finger well positioned on the cultural pulse. But my own personal Perry White is also driving me mesuganah!
My professional relationship with my hard-boiled editor began when Brandon started to show an interest in the humor writing I’d done on and off for over 20 years and in earnest for the last year. Normally secretive, I usually don’t share my work-in-process with anyone short of receipt of a Congressional subpoena.
But Brandon thought it was cool that his dad was writing funny, so I began showing my nascent humor pieces to him.
And he’s been slicing, dicing, and frying them up in a pan ever since!
My professional relationship with my hard-boiled editor began when Brandon started to show an interest in the humor writing I’d done on and off for over 20 years and in earnest for the last year. Normally secretive, I usually don’t share my work-in-process with anyone short of receipt of a Congressional subpoena.
But Brandon thought it was cool that his dad was writing funny, so I began showing my nascent humor pieces to him.
And he’s been slicing, dicing, and frying them up in a pan ever since!
"Frankly, Dad, this piece wouldn’t be funny to anyone if you were tickling them!"
“Dad, this reference to the woman you dated as 'Ernest Borgnine with lipstick' is your third ‘Ernest Borgnine’ reference in the last month! Try 'Jonah Hill in high heels.' More current, more funny!"
"What are you trying to write here, Dad, the operator’s manual for your new toaster?”
It isn’t that Brandon means to be harsh or insulting. He realizes it’s tough out there in The World of Trying to Get Stuff Published, and he just wants me to put my best foot forward.
I told him in that case I was going to need a third foot.
He told me that line wasn’t funny!
This afternoon, Brandon and I were reviewing my latest piece on the History of Life on Earth, which posits that very little true progress has taken place in the span of time between the emergence of the first uni-cellular creature far beneath the primordial seas and the granting of a late night talk show to Carson Daly.
"Dad," said Brandon wearily, "that comma should be a semi-colon, you've used the phrase "lame butt" three times in one paragraph .... and Carson Daly?
" What about Carson Daly?" I asked.
"That's a totally wrong name. You might think he's a yutz, but a lot of people like him. Now here's the right spot for Ernest Borgnine!"
I could take it no longer.
"Brandon,” I shouted. "Don't you ever like anything?"
“Sure, Dad. I liked Joel Stein’s last piece in Time very much.”
“Joel Stein!” I sputtered. “Why that overrated ….!!! Did Joel Stein ever diaper you?
“Chill,” said Brandon, “it’s a joke. And by the way, Dad ...
You’ve just got to develop a sense of humor!”
~~~~~~~~~~
