I’ve always fancied myself as an editor and have dabbled a bit in the past. At school - obviously, I suppose! - I produced an irregular, carbon copied two pager called “The Warlord’s Weekly”, slightly inspired by Michael Moorcock and consisting mostly of self-penned, self-mythologising tales of teachers and classmates. In more professional company, I undertook some assistant editing for Andy Cox’s “The Third Alternative” for a couple of issues - accepting stories by Conrad Williams, Justina Robson and Antony Mann - and back in 1998-9 put together what eventually became “The Millennium Supplement” to “Roadworks” issue 6. But I wasn’t satisfied and wanted to go the whole hog; in fact, my earlier experiences had so whetted my appetite that I became a little obsessed about editing a whole book, my rules and my choices. Who better to try this idea out upon than Andrew Hook, head honcho of rapidly rising independent publishers Elastic Press? Especially as he’d greenlighted my collection “Somnambulists” (Elastic Press, 2004).
So, we met at a pub in Norwich during August 2003, shared a few beers, and I managed to convince him that with my writing record, experience of rejection, educational background and reputation for strong opinions, I was the man for the job. “Go ahead, Al,” was the gist of his response.
We had one major problem, though. Now, it is my belief that the future of multi-author collections is thematic - for example, Joel Lane’s “Beneath The Ground”, Gary Fry’s “Poe’s Progeny”, various horror-themed Stephen Jones anthologies - but I hadn’t settled on a theme. So I sat on the train home and chewed over the question: what am I really interested in? And almost immediately I came up with the answer: Numbers.
This was one of the major brainwaves of my life, up there with writing a unique series of inter-linked stories about the planets of the solar system to form my debut novel, “The Planet Suite” (TTA Press, 1997). The invention of numerical systems is without doubt one of the most important human conceits along the road to full knowledge and control of the natural, artificial and psychological environments. Put simply: numbers rule our lives. And, to my knowledge, no one had ever put together a whole book of number stories before.
So, what to call this editorial opus? I toyed with “Numerosis” (an anxiety based on number?), “Numereqsue” and “Numeratics”. I even briefly considered the dreadfully punny “Numb And Number” until Andrew Hook rightly blasted that latter out of the water. Eventually, as publisher and purse-string holder, Andrew suggested, “The Elastic Book Of Numbers”, with which I was perfectly happy.
Thus, I had a theme and a title but needed to cement my musings into clear guidelines. I cannot stress enough the importance of setting clear guidelines for an editing project. Mean as it may seem, guidelines are partly about avoiding being deluged with the wrong sort of submission. Of course, my natural inclination is to be inclusive and encourage writers to create and take risks without unnecessary restrictions but my experience with “Millennium Supplement” had taught me that some people will send you anything, presented in entirely inappropriate forms. Remember that old office training day quip? “Never assume because it makes an ass out of ‘u’ and an ass out of ‘me’.” So I spelt out exactly what I meant by presentation guidelines including which typewriter fonts were / were not acceptable. As colonialist and Old World as it may seem, stories had to be in English. I haven’t seriously studied Latin and French in decades - and I was shit at them even then - so don’t have anything foreign and footnoted that gets in the way of the story.
One hears a lot of rumours about editors and agents who only read the first page / first line / the by-line and then offer a usually negative reaction. Sadly, some of these whispers are true. However, I made a solemn public vow that I would read every submission from beginning to end without interruption - several of them on insomniac early mornings as it turned out - and I would send each author a short, personal critique indicating my reasons for rejection or, indeed, acceptance. I had several motives for this. Firstly, I’m directly representing Andrew Hook’s Elastic Press in response to actual/potential readers and, as someone who can hold a grudge, the last thing I would want to do is piss off potential purchasers. As well as that, I am first and foremost a writer and follow the old Christian adage of doing unto others as you would be done by. Form rejections are immensely dispiriting. I also set myself a response time of between two and four weeks from receipt. I stuck to this absolutely, even if on several occasions I bought myself extra time by e-mailing the author informing them their manuscript was undergoing a “second reading”. One famous editor sat on one of my stories for over two years; several Allen Ashley manuscripts have simply disappeared into the ether. It can’t all be the fault of the creaking, dispirited Royal Mail. If you’re running a magazine or editing an anthology and you’re open to submissions, you’ve really gotta make time to get back to the punters, guys! I received quite a few letters and e-mails from rejected contributors thanking me for taking the trouble to read their work and for responding so quickly. But really, my level of politeness and efficiency should be the default, not the exception.
Dodo that I am, I’d asked for everything to be sent on paper. After all, the finished product will be a book not a web site. I soon discovered, though, that e-mail replies are easier, especially to overseas contributors. International Reply Coupons are a great idea but most post office staff look at you blankly when presented with the little yellow coupons. Paper hard copy manuscripts are actually more convenient. I read several of the submissions lazing back on the sofa or swaying on the Piccadilly Line. I also found that I needed to make notes straightaway whilst the story was still fresh. Occasionally, though, I was a little too hasty. I turned down one piece within a week thinking myself superbly efficient and then brooded on the tale for a further four months before I had the guts to get back in touch with the author and say, “Sorry, could I have another look at your manuscript?” Fortunately, I was able to salvage this terrific SF tale for the book. (To put you out of any misery, it’s “Mine The Primes” by Julian Todd).
The word had been out amongst the SF/F/H community for some time but “The Elastic Book Of Numbers” officially opened for submissions on February 1st 2004. After unnecessary deliberation, I eventually took the third story I received but my first actual acceptance - “351073” by Jeff Gardiner - was dated 22nd March. The original deadline of 31st May was starting to look a little optimistic - simply, I would not have enough material of the right quality by then, so I extended the cut-off to 31st July and finally again to 31st August. And, crucially, I re-jigged the guidelines into a more chatty, in your face form entitled “The Last Throw Of The Dice”. I was also leafleting book launches and BFS Nights and spreading the news on the web. To my mind, it really is important to regularly remind people of your existence. There are several anthologies I’ve meant to pitch for in the past: read about them once, got distracted onto something else temporarily, didn’t see any more info, and missed the boat. Anyway, I like reading about myself on the BFS Newsfeed. It makes a change from cheery messages from Tim Lebbon world!
Amazingly, from scrabbling around for 8 maybe 9 stories in mid-July, I eventually ended up with 21 tales of outstanding merit. I hadn’t intended to write anything myself apart from the back page blurb but on the very last day of August I received an off the cuff submission from Tim Nickels. I wrote back saying I like this idea but why don’t you try this… or that… in fact, why don’t we run with this notion together? So, “While We Were Sleeping, Numbers Took Over The World” sneaked into the very back of the book. For anyone like me who yearns for a return to the heady days of the experimental New Wave SF of the late 1960s /early 1970s, I offer this humble collaboration as entry 22.
So, what have I learned from sitting so long in the editor’s chair? The most cautionary tale I can tell is that editing a book takes over your life. I was looking back through my diary for the middle part of the year and yes, there was the launch of my own collection “Somnambulists” (Elastic Press) and the usual day job commitments, but creatively my own writing underwent a hiatus. I literally didn’t have enough time and energy to devote much to my own stories. With the utmost respect, people such as Andy Cox and Trevor Denyer were promising writers some years back but I can see how the editing game has largely subsumed their authorial careers. Folks, you’ve been warned!
As always, it’s been a learning curve for me to be on the other side of the envelope and I hope to apply this new wisdom to my own work. For example, if I’m critical of structure, pacing and payoffs… well, I need to have a closer scrutiny of my own output and ask what would Allen Ashley the editor say?
Some authors already had stuff that maybe had some bearing on numbers in some way. Or thought they did. A few times, my suspicions seemed confirmed that people don’t pay full attention to guidelines – they skim read them basically, looking for name and address and word length. Admittedly ours were somewhat wordier than most – but that was meant to be helpful! If I’ve asked for stories in which numbers play a significant role, that’s what I hope to receive. If I’ve asked people to try to write something non-linear and therefore more intriguing to a die-hard New Waver / slipstreamer like me, they could at least have a go.
Discussing recent collections with a couple of authors, I remarked how most of their stories were written in the first person and how this has been a discernible tendency in recent years – authors these days seem to feel that writing as “I” offers immediacy and verity. I’ve noticed that the latest trend seems to be to write in the present tense. Whilst I’m on this – folks, you really should read back through your work before printing it out and make sure you haven’t slipped carelessly between am and was.
Still new to the editing game, I hadn’t realised the amount of work I would have to do on rewrites. Not general stuff but actual specific scene by scene / line by line advice to authors. It’s all very well to make general statements but sometimes as an editor you have to roll your sleeves up and say this is how I think it should be done…I even had to enlist the ever helpful and discerning Mrs Dodo (“The Arbitrator”) for assistance and second opinions.
And I haven’t even started on things like how some stories are all build-up and quick resolution. Other efforts were too short, often resting on a twist in the tail - which wasn’t really the remit for this project. A few stories were poorly focused so that this struggling editor couldn’t work out what was going on. What’s that old adage about reading your work aloud? Put it on a cassette and see if you can still follow the thread, is my advice.
Of course, some stories had little or virtually nothing to do with the theme of numbers. Or the choice of digits was completely arbitrary. For a while I fell into the habit of saying to authors, “Change your number from 345 to 678 and it’s exactly the same story” then decided I was being too harsh and should find other reasons for returning their efforts. On the whole, the more editing I did, the longer my rejection letters became - which probably means that like a batsman at the wicket I “got my eye in”. And there’s all that retroactive editing one ponders as a writer-editor - I said this about John Smith’s story but actually I could level the same complaint or similar against one of my own efforts.
I had been impressed by how many female contributors Andrew Hook had rounded up for “The Alsiso Project” (Elastic Press, 2004). For a long time I was bothered by the fact that I hadn’t received enough female submissions. Ms Hayes preferring the non-gender specific name “Sam” and Ms Sedia using the initial “E” compounded this. At one point I wanted to shout out, “Come on girls, surely you’re not really scared of numbers? Follow the lead of thy mighty Amazonian temptress Carol Vorderman!”
The happy ending, of course, is that we have Kay Green’s numerical Frontispiece and Ellen McAteer’s “4 Thoughts On Numbers” as our two not strictly fiction, more speculation contributions. Phew!
One can tell a lot about people just by their submissions. And not just the content and concerns of their stories. Here are some of my outrageous hypotheses: Women are more likely to address me as “Dear Allen”. Most American authors use amber or orange coloured envelopes, often with a butterfly clip attachment. I can tell if someone is a smoker - several envelopes have arrived permeated by strong tobacco smells.
What is it with deadlines? I knew I would get a mad rush right near the cut-off point of 31 August. This was a Tuesday, the day after a bank holiday, so people would have been doubly panicking that their submissions might get held up, not collected on a Sunday or Monday or whatever. Secretly, I made a decision to allow postage time of up to approximately a week, especially for those authors abroad - which on my submission list has included USA, Canada, Australia, Spain, Holland and Italy - to allow for the vagaries of the Royal Mail. But really shouldn’t the rush have come earlier? If you know that the book’s closing at the end of Aug, and you’ve had since 1st Feb to get your act together, shouldn’t you really get your manuscript in the big red box before 27 Aug? For those dear people who have got time to go on message boards whinging about how the cut-off point is approaching, here’s an idea - Focus on the story; the message boards will still be there next month.
Also, the number of complaints I had about the theme! I got so fed up with this that I even put in the amended guidelines - “But I can’t write a number story - but you could if it was a vampire piece, yes?”
Oh, it’s a hard life and I’ll have so much more sympathy for editors in future. Until they…
Now, it’s in the nature of multi-author collections for the reader’s response to not be an absolute whole-hearted “Wow!”; but I have complete faith in every selection I’ve made and it is my firm belief that “The Elastic Book Of Numbers” sets a new high water mark in modern literary themed anthologies. When the individual stories get picked up for reprinting and awards or when the favourable feedback starts flooding in, I’ll allow myself just the slightest smugness to creep into my habitual smile. I hadn’t realised it previously but editing and collating a book is as exciting as writing one’s own. The incredible thing is that without my original idea most of these pieces wouldn’t have come into being. That particular butterfly effect is quite humbling.
Allen
