Nobody enjoys being edited.

That is the main reason that writers and editors should switch places from time to time. Discovering the other party's perspective can be wonderfully salutary.

Pressed into service on the city desk some years back, Rafael Alvarez, one of The Sun's abler reporters, muttered after a week, "Reading other people’s raw copy is like looking at your grandmother naked."

I was lucky to learn an important lesson early on. I was writing occasional book reviews for a newspaper in a city far away, and one of my reviews was butchered. The editor who cut it for space eliminated transitions and key sentences, leaving the reader with a jumble of disconnected observations.

I walked back to the features department to explain to the editor that I was disappointed, that I had tried to write a short essay, the effect of which was damaged by the cuts. As I talked I noticed two eavesdropping feature writers dissolving in silent mirth. The spectacle of a copy editor complaining about cuts to a text was too rich an irony to contain.

I mumbled a final sentence and walked away, my ears burning with embarrassment. I felt like a fool.

And I was.

First, the paper was gone, and there was nothing to remedy the bad editing.

Second, the editor I had been talking to was notoriously dim. If you turn over your work to someone who is as dumb as a box of rocks, what can you expect?

Third, displaying a writer’s injured vanity makes you look ridiculous. It was a short book review for a provincial newspaper. Perhaps one reader in 10,000 may have even glanced at it.

I have never since complained about the editing of an article I have written. And I generally don't look at anything I've written once it is in print. Even if your text has not been manhandled, seeing it in print will immediately show up all the flaws and shortcomings that you didn't notice while writing.

It's done. Go on to the next thing.