I approach editing as a kind of carpentry: first a rough cut, then assembly, and then the finishing with finer and finer grades of sandpaper until the work is well-constructed, feels right to the touch. An editor suggests, asks, cajoles, demands, and pushes a writer as much as he can get away with. Editing a memoir, so deeply personal, can be even trickier. (Hey, about that chapter about your grandfather. I think we should cut it…) I warned Sean early on that I expected him to be sick of me by the time we were done. But he displayed great patience with my demands all the way through. In many regards, I think the book was a continuation of the vigil and companionship with his mom.
