One of the most thrilling moments in a writer’s life is receiving that long-awaited yes—an acceptance letter after dozens, maybe hundreds, of rejections. It’s the kind of moment that’s meant to be savored, a bright spark of validation in a career often defined by perseverance and uncertainty.
But sometimes, even that joy can curdle.
Recently, I had a piece accepted by a publication. I was thrilled—until I received the proofs and discovered that the editor had completely changed the title. I don’t mean they made a small tweak or clarified something ambiguous. I mean a brand-new title, made of entirely different words, with no relation to the original. And I hadn’t been consulted.
It felt like a punch in the gut.
I consider myself collaborative, open-minded, and very willing to hear editorial suggestions. I want the piece to be its best self before it meets readers. That’s partly what editing is for. But I also believe in mutual respect and dialogue. And what upset me in this instance was not just the change, but the lack of communication. This was not a tweak—it was a unilateral decision about a fundamental element of the work: its name.
For me, a title is not just a label. It’s the handshake before the story. It sets a tone, carries subtext, sometimes even foreshadows or re-frames the ending. I spend a lot of time working on the title, thinking about how to make it an integral part of the story. So when it’s replaced without warning or conversation, it can feel jarring. Almost like someone renaming your child without asking.
In my case, this editor had a track record of similarly high-handed decisions. When I (and others) have raised questions before, the responses were dismissive or even combative. So this time, I’ve made my peace: I asked politely for the original title to be restored, but I have decided that, if it’s not, I won’t fight it. I’ll let the piece be published—and simply choose not to submit there again.
Because writing is hard enough already. I don’t need to hand my work over to editors who don’t respect it—or me.
If You Find Yourself in a Similar Situation, Here Are Some Things to Consider:
- Ask First, React Second
Sometimes changes are made for good reasons—SEO, house style, length, etc. Reach out to the editor calmly and ask why the change was made. Tone matters. - Explain Your Perspective
Share why the original mattered to you. Maybe it resonates with the story’s theme, ties into the ending, or carries a double meaning. Good editors want to understand. - Know the Culture of the Publication
Some editors welcome conversation. Others don’t. If you know the publication tends to make arbitrary changes, decide upfront if you’re okay with that. - Set Boundaries
If something feels like a deal-breaker, it’s okay to withdraw the piece. It’s also okay to accept the change—but make a mental note for the future. - Speak With Your Feet
You don’t need to threaten or argue. Sometimes the most powerful thing you can do is quietly stop submitting. Your work deserves better. - Value Yourself
Editors are gatekeepers, not gods. Your voice, your vision, and your integrity as a writer matter. Don’t let anyone make you forget that.
Publication should be a celebration, not a compromise of your creative identity.
Have you had to deal with edits or editorial behavior that left you less than happy? How did or do you deal with it? As always, I hope you prioritize self care, and I welcome thoughts and feedback in the comments below!
Gideon P. Smith 