Where Is My Maxwell Perkins? On Editorial Access, Writing, and the Quiet Politics of Finishing
Where Is My Maxwell Perkins? On Editorial Access, Writing, and the Quiet Politics of Finishing I first encountered Maxwell Perkins in a magazine profile—likely Vanity Fair—sometime in the 1980s. What struck me was not literary history, but infrastructure. Writers, I learned, were not always alone. Some had editors who did more than correct grammar; they helped shape thought, structure excess, and midwife sprawling manuscripts into the world. This realization came at an awkward time in my own development as a writer. I had left high school believing English was one of my strengths, only to find in college—particularly in literature and philosophy courses—that my writing was considered diffuse, undisciplined, excessive. In business classes, this mattered less. There, clarity could be approximated, even performed. But in disciplines where language was the work, I encountered a more exacting standard—and very little encouragement. At the same time, I was writing constantly. I sent fragmen...