On magazines and newspapers, there’s often a fork in the road that appears for young journalists. Take one direction and you continue as a writer, take the other and you set a course for becoming an editor (there’s also a well-used side gate here that gets you the hell out of the profession). Both routes can be fine ones; it’s hard, for example, to think that there’s any difference in prestige among your peers between the two roles.
When I approached this choice long ago, I went for the path that I hoped would one day lead to editing a magazine. It was the right one for me. For starters, I was surrounded by people who were far better writers: just look at my days at The Independent on Sunday, where I worked alongside Maggie O’Farrell, author of current hit Hamnet, as well as Kate Summerscale and Jojo Moyes, both of whose books always leap to the top of the bestseller lists.
But, from the beginning of my career, I was drawn into watching editors put pages together. Dominic Wells at Time Out just had a way of envisioning a story, which showed a mental dexterity that I wanted to emulate. He and deputy editor Nigel Kendall also wrote genius headlines that made a story sing. And, years later, I worked with Simon Kelner at The Independent, an editor with crisp views on everything from politics to newspaper design: the perfect all-round editor.
Over time, I discovered that I was not bad at both finding the right writer for a commission and liaising with everyone needed to deliver something that read well and hopefully caught people’s attention – then continued to keep them engaged. And many of the writers who I met all those decades ago are still with me. Andrew Mueller and I have a long history of mad commissions. Michael Booth, our Copenhagen correspondent, has been a partner in words since my Time Out days. I am sure both would also like me to point out that they too are successful authors.
Why am I giving you a meandering start to the column today? Well, a few reasons.
Firstly, you might have read last week’s missive. (What? Better things to do, you say? How impertinent.) If so, you will know that we are in recruitment mode and have been meeting lots of interesting journalists in recent weeks. It turns out that quite a few of them are standing at that fork in the road: they are applying for editor roles that could set them on a new direction in their careers. So you have to quiz them about why they want to do this – and what they think this job will actually involve. Some have just never really thought about it that much and should probably stick to being writers. Thankfully, others are obviously keen to influence the look and feel of a report and have a passion for how magazines are made.
Strangely, however, I’ve found it annoyingly troublesome explaining to the truly uninitiated the intricacies of editing. When you have learnt how to do something across a long expanse of time, it becomes a reflex (yes, there are plenty of things that don’t work out but we will ignore those for the benefit of a more interesting column).
Explaining instinct is hard. It’s easy to trot off a list of the day-to-day tasks required but the passion part – the values you try to work by, the subtleties that you try to add along the way – seems to wriggle away from you as you try to explain it aloud. The fact is, as it is in so many jobs, what you need as much as flair, or talent, is to make a commitment to one path and then just allow time to do its business.