The Writer’s Coin

I’ve always been curious about how editors and writers develop and maintain such a curious relationship: I’ll do all the creative part of it and get all the accolades, you do all the backbreaking work that shapes that creative something into something much, much better than it was. Then we’ll do it over and over again.

How does that work?

Well, I got a bit of a peak into that world in last week’s New Yorker.  They featured an article on Raymond Carver (of Cathedral fame, which many call the greatest short-story book out there) and how he slowly developed confidence in his writing while working with his editor Gordon Lish.

The article is based on the letters the two men wrote to each other regarding the whole editing process. Carver candidly bows down to Lish every chance he gets. He feels he owes his success to the editing he has done. One gets the sense that, without Lish, there would be no Carver. At least that’s what it sounds like from Carver’s letters.

Then things start to change and Carver develops a confidence that only success can bring to a writer. It pains him to have to say “no” to Lish when it comes to certain edits he’s made. He’s sad and it’s hard for him but he knows what he’s written is good.

I guess this is what happens to anyone when they feel they’ve surpassed their mentor—it must be a very strange and difficult thing.

Has this ever happened to you? Have you ever surpassed someone that taught you everything you know about a subject? 

Tags: new yorker, raymond carver