Should I Edit an Anthology? 

By Cindy Eastman

As a writer, I often look for and submit to anthologies as a way to get my work out there and add a publishing credit to my portfolio. It was probably only natural, then, for the idea to create and edit my own anthology to form. Here’s my advice for those mulling over that idea: 

No! Run screaming from the idea. Take an extended trip to Greece to block all thoughts of this insanity from continuing to evolve in your brain. Drink the ouzo. Lots of it to blot out the whole idea from ever showing up again. 

Too histrionic a response? Maybe, so let me share some thoughts about my own inaugural experience that you might want to consider before giving up your lounge chair on that Greek beach . . . 

It looks easy, but it’s not. 

Editing an anthology might feel like, “What’s the big deal? It’s not like I have to write the whole book!” That’s true, maybe an introduction and an acknowledgement. Maybe even contribute one of your own essays. But it’s a project that requires more skills than writing and editing. Since I enjoy the editing process, I figured I was in good shape, so off went my Call For Submissions (CFS) and contributions came pouring in. By the time I closed submissions, I had over 70 writers from all over the world totaling over 100,000 words. That’s a lot of editing, but more importantly, how would I ever choose what to include? Of course I wanted to include all of them, but that would make the book too unwieldy for a publisher to consider. I realized I had to make some hard choices, which would require some diplomacy and tact. (Confession: I chickened out…except for a couple that just didn’t seem to fit with the theme, I included them all. The only limitation I imposed was one submission per writer. Whew!) 

Other factors to consider are how good are you at people management and what are your admin strengths? For me, it took almost superhuman powers of organization, from keeping track of the submissions, the word counts, the topics and the bios. If I sent out a group email, keeping track of the responses was tricky, because a question might be buried in the thread and I’d miss it—and then I’d get a mostly gentle nudge from the writer with the question. 

And of course, finding a publisher is just like trying to find one for your own book. I researched and sent queries to all kinds of publishers—academic, health-related, traditional and indie. Once one responded with interest, they imposed their own management system and contract terms and communication style. One issue that came up quickly was the publisher sent out an email with some questions about what kind of platform and promotion was available to each writer. A couple of writers balked at that and dropped out. Then, the official contract didn’t have the same terms as I originally had in my CFS (like a free copy of the book per writer) and different terms of author’s rights. Some of the more professional writers chose not to sign the contract, most with reasonable objections and they withdrew their pieces. Most of the writers accepted that. A handful didn’t. But I cover that next . . .

Make sure you have a suit of armor. 

Of the many, many issues that came up for me when I thought sharing the voices of grief in an anthology would be a good idea, having people turn on me wasn’t one of them. The instances of anger and accusation were few and short-lived and I won’t give that aspect any more space or time except to say, it could happen. Writing is a very personal and vulnerable thing and if a writer imagines that their work isn’t being respected, there isn’t very much you can do about it. Hopefully, and as considerately as possible, release them from their obligation and move along. It hurts—especially if the attack comes from someone you know—but move along. You have bigger fish to fry. 

Acknowledging the helpers. 

The unhappy contributors were small in number. The larger number were those writers who had either been involved in publishing an anthology or clearly had more experience in publishing overall and were incredibly forthcoming with sharing their know-how. One generously wrote to me about some of the aspects of the contract that concerned her, which I ignored. In my defense, I didn’t flat out ignore it—she was a writer who knew what she was talking about and I deeply appreciated her wisdom. But, and this particular challenge is entirely on me, I chose to ignore some of her points because–a publisher wanted to publish the book! My judgement was clouded at times—I could only see one thing—a published book. Even though some writers withdrew due to some of the limitations of the contract, they didn’t totally abandon me. They continue to support me and the book. Even if I ignored them. 

What made it all worth it. 

The writers. Always the writers. That’s what outweighed all the difficulties, challenges and criticisms—the writers who were in it to see this project to the end. The ones who stuck around through all the queries to publishers and the months of waiting to hear something. The ones who have never written anything but wanted to “try it” and get published. The ones whose pieces needed a lot of editing and, when edited, were surprised at how much better it sounded. The ones who were excited every single time I sent out an update with good news or not-so-good news. They were my inspiration and my motivation. Every single second. 

But would I do it again? 

I might. I’ve had several people suggest further topics to explore through other writers’ experiences and they sound like really good ideas. Plus—I learned lessons! Thank goodness. An important one is to never ignore the advice of trusted colleagues and friends. But, let’s get this book out there and then we’ll see. 

And finally, I was going through a very challenging time of grief personally, from the Call for Submissions to the acceptance and pub date. I was asked more than once, “how can you read these essays? Aren’t they too sad?” and, yes, they were. And some were funny or touching or gut-wrenching. But each story and poem had a piece of the writer’s heart in it, and it served to guide me through whatever I was experiencing during this process. Now this book has a piece of my own heart in it and I’m deeply grateful to all the lessons and proud of the result. If you’re still thinking of editing an anthology, I wish you the exact same experience. 

—

Grief Like Yours: A story collection of life after loss 

Loss knows no singular form. Grief does not follow a predictable path. Heartache stalks those who dare to love, but there is no pain so novel it has not been felt by another. There are no burdens that can’t find helping hands.

Many have trodden the path of despair, clearing the way for those to come.
Grief like yours,we need not grieve alone.
To heal, we share.

“Hard-won and honest wisdom rings out from every page of this necessary book, and from the very beginning, we know we are held in the gentle, capable hands of people who care.”

—James Crews, author of Turning Toward Grief: Reflections on Life, Loss & Appreciation

June 3, 2025 – Carpe Vitam Press 

ebook on Amazon: https://shorturl.at/8Ki8n

Paperback on Barnes & Noble:

https://www.barnesandnoble.com/w/grief-like-yours-josi-s-kilpack/1147431529?ean=9781954615915

 

Tags: featured, women writers

Category: On Writing