CYA – Own Your Process
I said something in my last post that maybe we should talk about. Things went wrong with my client mentioned in that post when I allowed him to own my process. Let me explain –
When I met with the client the first time, he started by telling me I should be writing down everything. Not wanting to feel foolish, I complied. As I was listening, he stopped at one point and told me to write down what he’d just said. That’s where I lost control. My first mistake. I became his clerk/typist.
Not that it was so bad adhering to his wishes, but because of that first meeting, my own rhythm was thrown off, and being a mildly passive person, I allowed him to take control. Fine, it’s his book, right? True. However, the control he took was not only over the entire project, but over my work process. He set up the parameters – ones in retrospect I shouldn’t have worked under. He insisted on saving the master document on his computer. I saved a copy, but he said he’d be making changes after I’d sent my changes, so it all turned out to be moot on my end.
He also insisted on the following: I would send him an edited chapter, he would look it over and send it back for revision, I would toss out any previous chapter, revise what he’d sent and he would get it back to save to the master document. See how confusing that is? See how he told me (and frankly, I let him tell me) how I should conduct my work?
Let me stop right here and say that I shoulder some of the blame for this. I allowed this client to tell me how I should do my job. So I’m not saying the client was entirely to blame. In fact, on this point, it was my fault. He barked. I jumped.
Back to our story – I was sending edited chapters out to the client every few weeks. At first, we did okay with his process. But as we started getting into subsequent chapters, things got confusing. I was editing one chapter, he was revising another and tossing it back to me for revisions. It wasn’t long before my edits went to him but never returned for revisions. I was keeping a flow chart, so I thought things were organized. Eventually, maybe a month later, a missing chapter would appear with revisions. At that point, I was to toss the old chapter and replace it with the one he’d sent. I did so, but not before I compared his changes to mine. In most cases, my revisions had disappeared. I questioned him about it. He said he’d revised and put back what he thought was relevant to his style and his story. I dropped it and performed what he’d asked, knowing full well he’d returned bad copy into the text. I told him so and got no response.
We all know how this turned out – badly. Yes, he was difficult, but had I been able to own that process, maybe I could have brought him to a better understanding of why the edits I made were necessary. Toward the end of the project, he had actually exclaimed (just short of shouting) when I had removed numerous ellipses from his copy “But that’s my trademark!” He wasn’t hearing why at that point – that ellipses indicate incomplete thoughts and that dashes would have a stronger, more positive effect. He’d stopped listening. He was convinced I was the devil out to destroy his project. Had I been able to own my work process, I would have indicated to him in the text and in person again and again that the changes I made that he was replacing with bad copy were necessary. If I’d maintained control over my work process, I would have had more credibility with the client, and he might have understood that I wasn’t trying to kill the “sprit” of his book, but I was trying to share my knowledge and expertise with him.
I can’t help but think how differently things could have been if I’d owned my work process. I would have had a more organized workflow system, and I would have insisted on holding on to all copy, as well as explaining and asserting why certain edits needed to remain. Alas, I have no time machine. I can’t go back and fix it. But you can bet that I’ve learned from it, and I won’t ever let anyone own my process again. After all, I can’t give my best if I can’t see the end result.
So sorry you had to go through it.
That’s his trademark? If he’s so famous and brilliant to have a trademark, he wouldn’t need to hire a pre-editor before his manuscript made the rounds.
What a moron. You’re better rid of him.
Yea, it cracked me up when he said it, too. He’d had some form of semi-regular column in some semi-regular publication and I think it made him think he was an important person.
Merry Christmas Lori, and Happy New Year to you and yours!
Andrew