To the extent "journalistic" means "technically not untranslatable and technically not wrong," that has got to be a good journalistic estimation of what Ricochet editors do. Of course I have no idea what they really do. I know one thing they don't do: mess with me. This sounds like, and is, the classic bad attitude of the amateur writer, the belief that editors are as meddlesome as they can be without ever quite being obstructive, increasing the number of grammatical errors and creating non sequiturs by arbitrarily striking the sentences that preceded the sentences that are now non sequiturs. However, I am, just barely, not an amateur. I did, a quarter century ago, sell, and for good money, some writing. Not to Ricochet, of course. But to the New York Times.

Isn't that amazing? I'm not even homosexual! The New York Times gets a lot of grief from websites like this one, and I'd say it deserves every ounce. Yet I forbear to jeer (too much), because the New York Times did me good turns, publishing nationwide stuff that local papers wouldn't touch. Their editors, energetic in the cause of ambiguous improvement, did make it hard. Yet in the end it all worked out, and I would like to say a few things, possibly even nice things, about the experience.

Overall, the experience was long. I mean the New York Times had a lot of editors. They'd phone about this and that. Except for the initial approvals (I sold two pieces, a half year apart), I don't think I talked to the same person twice. At least they were all on the same page, so to speak. Never did two editorial proposals conflict.

One editor had a British accent. Of one of my compositions he said: "This is funny. This is really funny." I took that as very positive. From another Brit in another context, I had been told that Americans really don't do humorous travel writing, perhaps don't even know how. Yes, they really don't. I strive to be the exception that proves the rule. I neglected to mention that my stuff showed up on the Sunday Travel section endpaper. At the time, that page was devoted to just one long unsolicited item. I don't think this institution even exists anymore. Too labor-intensive?

Another editor called, with a problem. I had written: "A million writers have tried to make airports sound interesting; I will not be the 1,000,001st to have failed." The ordinal number did not conform to the New York Times style manual. I understand why style manuals need to exist. I don't understand why they need to be this detailed. It's some kind of unhealthy compulsion, I guess. A few months ago someone posted an immense one on the Member Feed and I thought Here is a mind coming gently unhinged. Anyhow, me and the New York Times, we worked it out. I think they wanted it "millionth-and-first"; I think I pitched "million-and-first"; this was idiotic but nobody got excited and it was resolved in fewer than three phone calls.

There was a final crisis, but that too proved superable. You got a short, one-or-two-sentence bio at the foot of your work, and no little debate went into it. Perhaps some writers really agonized over this, but I didn't. My first piece was about Interstates; I was at the time living not far from I-27 in Lubbock; how about that? Fine. I can't remember what showed up under the second piece. What I do remember is what showed up under the previous week's contribution. The writer chose to describe herself simply as one who "writes about lifestyle issues."

Huh? That's all? Editoring is an elephant but that it could birth such a mouse surprised me. 1991 is nevertheless a long time ago and I have since lived much life, maybe even with style, and I have come to put this in perspective. In a bygone era, stories in newspapers were about people doing things. Nowadays, with identity politics so important, stories are about people being things. Between then and now, was there – could there have been – something else? Yes. People having lifestyle issues.

(8/9/16)