Because manuscripts and editing are on my mind, I’m going to tell you a story. I think about six years have passed since this happened, so it’s safe to tell. I still won’t use real names, though.

I was still living in Florida at the time, and was in my second full year of freelancing. Doing fine, but always open to more funds.

I get a phone message from someone at the William Morris Agency. Be still my heart!!!

No such luck. Turns out that an editor I work with had recommended me for a possible book doctoring job. Okay. I’ll listen.

Turns out the author, an-about-to-be-ordained- priest-to-be, had previously written an odd kind of little niche book that had been surprisingly successful. A few year later, he’d come up with another book proposal, that he and the agency packaged very nicely and that, on the strength of the proposal and the success of his previous book, a Very Major New York Publisher bought.

They’d had the manuscript for a few months now. They were puzzled and confused.

So much so, in fact that it seems they’d told the guy he had three months to get the manuscript into shape, or else they’d want to see that advance back, thanks.

Hence the frantic calls to editors at religious houses.

I listened to the agent. She described the manuscript. She said the publisher had been working on copyediting and factchecking, but it needed it more. You know, just to be tightened up. Made more readable. She told me how long it was. She didn’t tell me the truth, I later found out, when the very large FedEx box was deposited on my doorstep. But just a minute for that.

She sent me about 40 pages of it. I got it the next day. It wasn’t great, but it wasn’t awful, but – as I later realized – I was looking at portions that had already been gone over by two freelance copyeditors with degrees, among other things, in Classics.

So I called her back. She told me to name my price. I had no idea what the advance had been and was too scared to ask. I knew that there was a great deal hanging on getting this book fixed. But I was still timid. “Fifteen thousand?” I ventured. She didn’t blink. Sold.

(Little did I know that was probably a bargain.)

I would have three months to do this. Foolish, overachieving girl.

The next day, as I said, that FedEx box was deposited on my doorstep. It was large. I think it had 2000 pages of manuscript in it. Maybe more. (Oh – and the topic? It was historical, let’s just say.)

I started leafing through it. Oh. My. God. This was even worse than I though. The guy was writing a history on this subject, he had just gotten through seminary, and he couldn’t even get Arianism right? And what about this? And that?

It just took a second for me to see that it was hopeless. There was no way a complete rewrite and factcheck could be done on this manuscript in 3 months. I took the agent’s previous invitation and just went ahead and called the religion editor at The Very Important House, and editor who is now retired, but who now, as then, I imagine still can intimidate with his clipped British accent.

(Now do you know?)

Anyway, it became very clear to me from my five-minute conversation with him that they had already given up on the manuscript. His Boston-based Classics major factcheckers had been driven to drink. Even if I could do something with it, they probably weren’t going to accept it. “Don’t waste your time. Just send it back to her,” he advised, “They know they’re sunk.”

So I did.

And that was my only adventure with New York Publishing up to now.

Just goes to show…something. The value of a pretty book proposal, I guess….