By Cathy McNamara Fitzgerald
Editorial hierarchies. An interesting concept. Whatever happened to those?
Back in the old days (or in the 1980s when I was first starting out), I was assigned to write my first article for Good Housekeeping, where I had landed the position of editorial assistant. It was a big opportunity to prove my worth and skills and…the topic was urinary tract infections, but whatever.
I interviewed six or seven experts on the topic, and a few days later, I had a notebook worth of quotes. Then I went home and wrote the article. And rewrote it. And rewrote it again. When it came back from the senior editor a few days later, it was covered in red—red ink (yeah, this was before editing software, too). My article was torn apart. I had to fix it—and fix it fast, he said.
When I got home that night, I called my dad. I cried. I was humiliated. I was never going to make it in this business. My dad said, "Just note his comments, and redo it. You'll get better. It just takes practice.” So, I wiped away my tears, and I redid it, resubmitted it, and it came back with less red ink than the time before. Progress!
Over the years (note years, not weeks), my writing and editing skills improved; there was less red ink on each returned submission. I was learning from the best—these were the editors of the Hearst Corporation, where you actually had to have real talent to get ahead.
The editors in chief at Hearst weren't in their 20s. They were usually in their 50s or 60s; some were in their 70s. Not because Hearst discriminated against young talent, but because the leaders knew if you were young, there was simply no way you could have what it takes to helm a successful magazine—you didn't have the experience.That came with years of editing and writing, and rewriting. Hearst did see talent when it came through the doors, but it awarded those protégées—not with instant promotions, but by paying attention to them, by molding these youngsters into great editors and writers over the years, so that when they were promoted, they had the skills needed to succeed. Those on the higher levels of the hierarchy were proven; they were published and they were accomplished. They were, simply speaking, the best.
At the Hearst Corporation, you started as an editorial assistant. If you proved that you could learn and improve your editorial skills, you were eventually promoted to fact checker, which was a coveted position. If an article was published with factual errors, you were out the door. So it was a big responsibility.
After fact checking, if your skills continued to improve, you could be (and the competition was fierce) promoted according to the established hierarchy: assistant editor, associate editor, senior editor, managing editor, executive editor, and finally, though very few would reach this level, due to the talent required, the limited number of publications, and the competition, editor in chief. Again, this process could take 20 to 30 years. But it was a good process, and the writing and editing skills by these proven, talented folks created award-winning publications, with huge circulations and advertising revenues—and happy readers who didn't have to email or call to point out mistakes.
Which brings me to the point of this blog. It seems these days that editors and writers feel that they should be promoted for simply being on the job for a sustained amount of time—not because they've proven their dedication to the craft by improving their skills. So, they think, "I've been an editorial assistant for two years, I'm entitled to a promotion.” I don't agree with that. You should be promoted because your skills have improved.
I understand that in these cash-strapped days, we will never have the luxury of creating a true tiered structure—that would require salaries for eight to 10 positions, or even more. And I know that today's positions are a bit different; we need people who understand social media and communication tools that are different from the standard books and magazines. But let's revisit the editorial positions that we do have (and can afford), and restructure them so that they follow a logical path, one building into the next. Let's create a hierarchy that's based on proven experience and dedication. Let's hire and mold the editors (who actually care) into great editors. Let's promote them through that hierarchy because they merit it; because they are learning and want to continue to learn; because they hold language to be sacred—and not just because they've been coming in (late) to the office for years.
Maybe I'm just a bitter old editor. But, hey at least I'm an editor, so that's fine with me.
Cathy McNamara Fitzgeraldis director, communications, at the Academy of General Dentistry and a member of the Association Media & Publishing Content Creation Committee.
