To be an editor is to be something that people generally detest, or maybe just creative people, but those are the kind I like best. When the base of something is "wrong" an editor casts a red line, like a flare: address this here! Let's not build on sandy foundations! But there it is: lattitude is in the anchor text and the contemptible woman at her desk that's always too small (I moved my bowl of kimchi fried rice in order to write this) simply had to say something.

First though, the editor does her research. She googles the double T iteration and finds it's the name of a usecodesubway startup that makes "an employee connection, survey & retention software" that "guides people in mapping out their personal board of advisors to amplify productivity, belonging & well-being."

This editor has an editor that's always talking about "best practices," meaning rules to follow that are based on precedents; precedents which neither editor has been around long enough to understand. For some reason it seems these best practices always involve maintaining spreadsheets. But since when have writers ever understood messages coded in small boxes, numbered in the margins? I think editors may be afflicted with an impossible task of improving writing because they seek deeper connection to it, but that tireless march toward improvement picks up debris like preferred comma usage outlined in style guides along the way. Spreadsheets are indicative of a terminal diagnosis. Productivity as a word has no business being next to belonging, and well-being has more than once been shattered by a desire for groupthink. Groups and cells and numbers in the margins, freezing and unfreezing the schedule of publication, the ad sales that set all this into motion... Writing needs more heights. It should not be stretched in the middle where there’s no need.

- Emily Conklin
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