Editorial Makeover 1: Don’t Tell Me, Show Me

Three Paragraphs

Dear Liz,

What a fantastic idea! In one of my grad school classes we spent more than 30 minutes editing just a couple paragraphs. Some students found the exercise defeating and excessive, but to me it was a valuable lesson about cutting through jargon and getting to the point. Needless to say, I’m still learning.

I’m submitting three paragraphs from a recent post on my website. I’m researching Muslim immigrants in Berlin, and the following is from a recent post on language flubs. I’d be delighted if you gave my writing a makeover!

Thanks for your time and generosity!
Jim

Dear Jim,
You’ve got a great story here. I thought what might make it more fun would be to let the reader “see,” rather than just read about it. So I edited in a little dialogue to give your story more personality

Hope this helps you see the difference when you show readers what’s happening, rather than just telling us.

Remember this is just one way to do it! Every editor edits differently.

Smiles,
Liz

Turn the page for the editorial makeover. It’s called, “Don’t Tell Me, Show Me.”

Before

I’ve had my hair cut twice at the mosque barbershop since writing about it earlier. The first time I entered the small space in the corner of the teahouse there were two barbers and a few customers all around my age. No one said much to me at first, and I wondered if it had to do with a poster on the door that showed a section of the Berlin wall with the words “Nur für mitglieder” [Members only] spray painted on it. Eventually one of the barbers addressed me as Jakob, to which I said “Excuse me?” in Turkish. He said that I looked like a German friend of his, but I felt like he was using a generic name for me because I was clearly a “foreigner.” After I gave him my standard story about being an American and married to a Turk, the other barber chimed in, calling me brother-in-law and making jokes about how Turks both love and beat up their brothers-in-law. It sounds like a hostile thing to say in English, but he was clearly joking around. And being called a brother-in-law by Turks is pretty standard when they learn I’m married to a Turkish woman.

Since we were on the subject of marriage, the jokester barber asked me if it’s true that same-sex marriages are legal in the U.S. I said that it’s allowed in at least one state, to which he responded, “Then can you find me a man to marry so I can get a U.S. visa?” I was a little surprised to hear that joke in a mosque complex, but I just laughed and marveled at his opportunism. I said I’d look into it for him, but something tells me U.S. immigration policy ain’t quite ready for that yet.

Next, as so often happens when religious Turkish guys learn that I’m married to a Turk and researching Islam, the subject of circumcision came up. Islam requires Muslim boys to be circumcised, and in Turkey, that usually happens when a boy is between the age of 4 and 9. The ritual is celebrated with big parties and the boys typically wear special pasha costumes. (I’ve been told, suggestively, that they’re available in all sizes.) Suffice it to say that many jokes, with far too much use of the word “ax,” were made in the barbershop that day. Indeed, every time I see the barber now, we’ll either make a joke about circumcision or finding him a husband.

After

The first time I entered the small barbershop, in the corner of the teahouse, I saw two barbers and a few customers all around my age. No one said much at first.

I wondered if it had to do with a poster on the door that showed a section of the Berlin wall with the words “Nur für mitglieder” [Members only] spray painted across it.

Eventually one of the barbers said, “Jakob.”
I said “Excuse me?” in Turkish. He said that I looked like a German friend of his, but I felt like he was using a generic name for me because I was clearly a “foreigner.”

I gave him my standard story about being an American and married to a Turk. The other barber chimed in, calling me brother-in-law and making jokes about how Turks both love and beat up their brothers-in-law. It sounds like hostile in English, but he was smiling and joking. Turks often call me brother-in-law, when they learn I’m married to a Turkish woman.

We were just guys in a mosque barbershop talking about marriage. The barber, who liked a clever conversation, asked, Is it true that same-sex marriages are legal in the U.S.?”

“It’s allowed in at least one state.”

“Then can you find me a man to marry so I can get a U.S. visa?”

Surprised at that joke in a mosque complex, I laughed and marveled at his opportunism.

“I”ll look into it for you, but something tells me U.S. immigration policy ain’t quite ready for that yet.”

As often happens when religious Turkish guys learn that I’m married to a Turk and researching Islam, the subject of circumcision came up. Islam requires Muslim boys to be circumcised, and in Turkey, that usually happens when a boy is between the age of 4 and 9.

“There are big parties and the boys wear elgant pasha costumes.” said one barber

“They make costumes big enough to fit you,” added a friend.

Too much fun and too many jokes, using the word “ax,” were made that day. Now every time I see the barber, we’ll make a joke about circumcision or finding him a husband.

–ME “Liz Strauss
If you’d like Liz to coach you with your writing, visit the Work with Liz!! page in the sidebar.

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Editorial Makeover 1: Don’t Tell Me, Show Me
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