Cutting.

Yesterday I returned to an edit house I have been editing at for just short of a decade-and-a-half. I cut my first spot down there in 1999. And since 1999, I've probably cut 150 spots there.

This is not cronyism. There are no kickbacks involved. It's not because of some cast of gentle personalities or the sensual curve of callipygian assistants. It's not the lunches or the wine and cheese that seems to magically emerge around four.

I cut at this house because they listen.

I cut at this house because they question.

They look at every frame fractally from every angle.

They are thorough. Experienced. Exhaustive.

They are opinionated.

Cynical.

Tough.

In fact, all the "collegiality" we are supposed to bring to work--lest we be tarred with the worst of all brushes, 'he's hard to work with,' is missing at this edit house.

In a ambient way, my editor is a pain in the ass. Fittingly described as "prickly."

But just what you want in an editor.

Someone with the doggedness to make it better.