There’s a reason Ernest Hemingway famously advised to write drunk and edit sober. Writers often find themselves wading through a visceral soup of emotions and deep thoughts, and the messy pursuit of universal truths cannot be stymied by caution. Scribes are right there with their characters, enmeshed in their minds, hellbent on making them real and relatable. Editors, on the other hand, take a loftier perch. They offer an analytical detachment—the superego to the writer’s id. The editor’s realm is that of big-picture circumspection, while the writer can benefit from a bit of recklessness. What’s the process like, then, for those editors who switch sides—from smoothing out rough edges to hurling metaphorical paint like Jackson Pollock?