Two Editing Lessons that Changed the Way I Work (and Live)

How a Mentor Changed My Editing Practice

A few people really stand out as being a big part of making me who I am as an editor. I worked with Jason Williams on several different Discovery Channel Series, and though I'd been editing a long time when I started working with him, I feel like he taught me a lot about how to tell stories. He took a shot on letting me write and post-produce a show that I was also editing -- my first preditor-gig -- now over 20 years ago.

I am grateful for all the nuggets of storytelling wisdom he would drop in my editroom. There are two that stuck with me, and I think of them often when I’m in a tight editing spot. I think they apply to life as well, in the same way that so much of editing is a metaphor for life.

Two oft-repeated oblique strategies I got from Jason (with a nod to Brian Eno's Oblique Strategies) were “make your problem your solution” (also known as "the truth is your friend") and “kill your babies." 

Make your problem your solution

Jason gives great notes. Many people can watch a show and point out problems or areas that aren’t working, but Jason can pinpoint the hidden issue you are struggling to cover up that is causing the problem in the show, and that is a rare talent.

He’ll notice that I’m contorting the show to get around some lack in the footage, or to bypass some part of the story that is too complicated, or that somehow doesn’t fit the story arc, and he’ll say, “make that the story.” The very thing that is causing your problems is what’s interesting about this story, if you look at it the right way. The problem itself is what makes this more than a simple story.

There was one time where I was trying, and failing, to get around a lack of footage for one beat of the story, and Jason suggested that the reasons for the lack of footage were a part of the story. Bringing out the reasons for the lack became part of the narrative, and got us past that beat.

That’s not a great example, but explaining most of them would be too long and boring. 

The point is that bringing a new perspective to the flaws as not flaws at all, but strengths, can be helpful in creating the narrative structure in the edit. 

I can point to some times in my life where this philosophy has helped me as well. Sometimes, the act of running away from the problem is a much bigger problem than the problem itself.  It's not easy, but I’m trying to think of problems more as gifts. 

Instead of creating a workaround, or running away or ignoring the problem (editing around it), if I try to address the problem directly (make the problem part of the narrative), that action will open me up more to life (make a better story).

Kill your babies

When I would be getting close to fine cut and still working out some problem areas, Jason would point out things I loved and tell me to cut them. He would notice some great transition, or bright moment, or delightful turn of phrase and say that he could see that I was contorting my narrative to save this moment. 

Maybe it used to be great, but the flow of the story is trying to turn away from it, and I’m holding it back because I love this one cut so much. 

I might need to get rid of that moment to free up the story to go where it wanted to go. 

This is still my practice: to notice where I’m attached to things in my cut. There are always things that delight me like a private joke; some sly metaphor that I enjoy each time I watch. A covert glance that only a few people will catch and appreciate. Some serendipitous transition that is perfect. Cut ‘em. 

As you try to save something, it may be exactly what is holding you back from your true story.

These are the kinds of lessons that don’t just help with editing workflow — they shape how I approach creative problem-solving as a documentary editor

And that brings us to the obscure reference in the image for this post -- Homer Simpson has his arm stuck in a soda machine from trying to steal a can, and after much effort by the fire department to get him dislodged, the fireman asks him if he's still holding on to the can. 

Let go of the can!

I’ll leave you to ponder where this might be true in your life as well.