On Editing, from the Writer's Viewpoint

I'm given to understand that there are people for whom editing is a delight.  Writers who enjoy the process of taking their rough work, and sprucing it up until it looks just the way they want it to, like some sort of Martha Stewart of the fiction world. Samuel Johnson, a man never at a loss for something to say, wrote "Read your own compositions, and when you meet a passage which you think is particularly fine, strike it out" Which makes one wonder what exactly he left out, as a grant many of the things he wrote were quite fine. But in any case, it suggests he was more than willing to do a mass of editing and suffer the indignities of removing passages he quite approved of, all that sort of thing.

I am not one of those people.  I never have been, and I rather doubt I ever will be.  I enjoy the end result well enough: looking at a book or story after its been fixed up is very pleasant indeed.  Sometimes the changes have been small but meaningful; sometimes they're large and impressive; but in any case they are there, and especially to the author they're usually quite noticeable. But it's much like the process of taking a very long flight, or of making a wildly complicated meal. While the end result is grand, getting there is not, as they say, half the fun.  It's all work, unpleasant and grinding and disagreeable.

Whenever confronted with an editorial statement, my first reaction is, well, reactionary. I bluster. I huddle round my poor defenseless words like a broody hen around her eggs.  I metaphorically hold my breath until I turn blue, in hopes that the nasty comments will just give up and go away.  They don't, of course; being written, they have no concern for my tantrums and egotism, and they wait patiently for the storm to pass. After a bit, I discover that the comments are almost always justified; a few may be a matter of taste rather than serious contextual issues, and taste can go one way or the other, but that isn't very common. Really, one almost always discovers that any editorial note, given by almost anyone at all, has some substance. That's the first hard part of editing: just looking at all those notes, and realizing that each one attaches to something one has written, and proclaims it broken and defective.  Which it almost assuredly is.

So then one must change things up. How much to change, though? Sometimes a note is quite helpful: it will state what the problem is clearly, and succinctly describe what needs to be fixed, perhaps even telling one how to fix it. This is uncommon, however. A writer will usually be faced with something vague. "This is awkward" is a common one, or "Please revise for clarity". Both of these are perfectly acceptable notes, of course, but they leave the author a bit stumped at times. A read through of the offending bit may get the author to think that there is awkwardness or lack of clarity, but the writer is the least likely person to see such things, and at times won't be able to figure out what the editor is talking about.  Poor fellow, he will then still make changes, because there's a note, but perhaps not for the best. Too obvious instead of too obscure; jarringly simple language; broken sentence structure. I've made bad changes, and will again, I'm sure, and it's not the editors fault for unclear notes, but my own for failing to see my own faults.

Then there are the larger issues, of course. Unbelievable motivations; flat characters; poorly realized settings.  Things that require real work scattered through the piece: a few extra descriptors here and there all through, and a juicy new scene, and more explanation, and clearing out the dead wood of bad scenes, all to make one secondary character acceptable, or the quiet town seem a quiet town instead of a farm, or a city, or whatever it seems like instead of what you meant. That sort of thing can be a lot of work, because not only must you achieve a goal, you must also make sure not to leave behind any remnants of the old version.  But one often does: a line here or there in some hidden paragraph of the story, where an old version shows through, confusing all future readers until someone finally calls it to your attention.  Sometimes it's a name change that didn't take everywhere; or a time change that was missed in one place so that for a moment an afternoon surfaces in the middle of the night; or an entire shift in characterization betrayed by one sentimental instant that should have been excised.

And then there are the real doozies.  Sometimes an editor realizes that the story you're telling is entirely wrong in execution, and while there's a good bit, or good bits, in the work, it's not what it should be.  Take the same characters and put them in the big city, for instance. Move the action from a one day affair to a slow monthly progression. Change everything but the central idea, including genders and relationships, but make sure to keep the same emotional feel.  I've not ever done this, but I've seen examples of it. And I don't know that I could do it. I have a particular weakness for not wanting to write something if I know how it turns out, and general revision I can do by not thinking of it as actual writing (it's revision, you see), but recreating a piece, that would be a real and perhaps impossible challenge.

As you might guess, I'm in the middle of edits on various things right now. They're going well enough. I should perhaps be working on them in some fashion, but I'm waiting for feedback at the moment, so instead I can write a nice long post about the process. I'm not wasting time, is what I'm trying to say. But of course I am doing just that, because I could be working at edits even without feedback. A critical eye has been applied, and I can now see the tatters and worn patches better, and should work on them on my own.

Only I don't like to. But there's a lot of work to get to, and so I must. I suppose I will go and look for any passage especially fine, and select it, and think of deleting it. I won't, but I'll consider it for a long while.  Off to it, then.

How to not take it personally.

So, my fine feathered friends, today we're going to contemplate something that can be a very touchy subject: taking criticism personally. Now I understand that writing is a deeply personal pursuit. Writers tend to pour their hearts out, and in so doing, sometimes have a hard time when the suggestion to cut or move or change something altogether is offered. What I call the "it's my baby!" syndrome is a tough one to let go of, but you can and should learn how to deal with this effectively.

You absolutely must understand that the suggestion(s) that are meted out are for the benefit of the work, they're not meant as a personal attack on you. When someone that is not you reads your story, they will have opinions - it is the nature of being human. Venturing suggestions for improvements is (almost) always in the spirit of creating a better end product. The people that you trust enough to ask for their thoughts are usually the ones that have your best interests at heart, right? That means that you're going to have to disassociate at least a fraction to prepare yourself for critical feedback.

Take a moment to read the entirety of the critique before you jump to defensiveness. This one step alone can save you untold agony. Read it twice to make sure that you understand what the reader is saying, for all that. If there are a great deal of changes suggested, take some time to imagine the story with the changes that have been offered up - would you have written it that way, had you thought of it at the time? Would the changes make your story something other than you'd envisioned? Do you feel like the reader just "didn't get it"? If that is the case, then you must seriously consider that other readers will have the same experience and you may need to revise it anyways.

People will always view something from different angles. When you're asking for help, you don't turn an offer down just because it wasn't phrased as you would have, right? This applies to feedback about your book, too! When you approach it from the defensive, you will not be able to absorb and understand how to best utilize it. If someone asks an honest question, ruminate on it for a bit before you answer. The best cure for defensiveness is to think before you speak.

Also remember that you do not need to incorporate any of the changes suggested by your editor/feedback-giver/writer's circle/mom. It's your work and your vision should be realized. I should add, though, that spelling and grammar changes are probably best left modified - you'd be surprised at how many authors don't use the correct to/too/two or they're/their/there. Or maybe you wouldn't. Suffice it to say that when you're asking someone for their thoughts, it is always up to you to utilize that feedback or not. You have the power!

Your readers will always have opinions. They may vary wildly from your own. Be open to the different points of view you may be exposed to, it is only in the best interest of your work. Your friends, family, and editors really do want to see you succeed. Believe that!

20001: A Steampunk Odyssey

We have an exciting thing going on.  We're working on an anthologie (spelling intentional).  There's this fancy little convention called Steamcon coming up, and it's a delightful event that's all about gears and fancy hats and Invention! and that ilk of things. My cohort Peter came up with the notion of putting together an anthology for it, and of using the previous alternative spelling, and a lot else.  Like doing most of the solicitation for submissions, and handling the early correspondence, and generally proving himself to be worth two or three of me in this regard.  I just wrote something for it, and felt like I was doing my part a bit.  But now we've come to the fun (read: hard) part of the process: the editing.  There's all these stories, you see, and we like them, but we'd like them more if they were better.  Which, strangely, doesn't happen just because I want it to.  Instead, we have to get in touch with the talented writers who've submitted, and boldly claim that we know better than they do what their stories should be like, and then insist they follow our every freakish whim.  Or something like that.  I'm pretty new at this whole editing-other-people thing, so maybe I'm doing it wrong.

Surprisingly, it's more pleasant than I imagined it would be.  Mostly, everyone is very open to the notion of changing things.  And when they do, it tends to be for the best, not the worst, as might be feared.  To be honest, I wish I was as good at paying heed and making changes when they are suggested.  With a month left to get edits done and do layout, formatting and cover design, I feel pretty strongly we're going to end up with a very good body of work, one that everyone involved can be proud of.

I think in the end though, that's not so much the point.  The point for me, and I think for Peter, is that we've given some good, new writers a reason to think they're good.  We're a first credit for a number of these folks, and that makes me feel just amazing, that I can be a part of that happening.  So 20001: A Steampunk Odyssey, while it's a lot of work, and will be a whole lot more, is pretty satisfying already, and only going to get more so.  I'm very happy we decided to do it.

Look for the ebook editions on or about the 14th of September.  Print to follow shortly after, we anticipate.  It's going to be well worth your time and your book buying dollars.

Focus, grasshoppah!

So, my fine feathered friends, the time has come for another thought-dump from your friendly neighborhood Editrix. This topic suggestion comes directly from Jason and it is both timely and important: find your focus.

When you're writing a book and you suddenly find that you've got 78 chapters and nary a resolution to a thing, much less have yet to introduce key elements, you're in deep, deep trouble. The story that you have set out to tell is so mired in sub-plots and multiple characters that you can't really recall the resolution that you'd dreamed up, so you just keep adding until it "feels" finished, as opposed to actually being finished, but you just have this one thing to add then it'll be perfect! You have this brilliant idea and some background to go along, and you're stoked. You sit down, and start writing, and things just take on a life of their own and...OK, stop writing right now.

The first thing that you have to learn how practice as a writer is self-control. Yes, you can tell the tale however you deem fit, that is your right as the author. However, it is the right of the reader to not even give your book a chance because you just keep traversing from place to place without ever really getting to the meat of the story! The beauty of your craft is lost if your reader can't manage to follow your own plot lines or narrative arcs. Being ambitious is one thing, but if you fail to create and follow even a single storyline down to a conclusion, you're not doing anyone any favors. Remember those tedious storyboards or character studies you had to create in horrible detail during creative writing 101? Yeah, they actually serve a really useful purpose - to help hone your instincts for focus. You don't want to do those? Fine with me. At least jot down a simple outline to keep you on track, ok? No, you don't want to even do that? Ok...But that means that you must learn to turn a critical eye to your tale and learn when to cut out the truly meaningless wanderings of your mind. You may have created this beautifully masterful description of (insert that something here), but if it doesn't do anything to further your story, it may actually be lovely yet ultimately useless gunk that could be flushed out during your own re-read.

Wait, what? You don't re-read your own book before you send it...anywhere? That may actually send me into a swoon. Seriously, if you don't want to take the time to read it before it leaves your hands, then why should I be bothered to take the time to read it, ever? THIS SHOULD NEVER, EVER, EVER HAPPEN! Oh, goodness, I'm shouting. Sorry about that. But for the love of all that is good and right in the world, re-read your story before you send it. To anyone for any purpose. I don't want to be forced to shout at you, but this is important. This is something that I shouldn't even have to put into words, frankly, but I find that I must because people have such high opinions of their own craftiness that they actually do just write and send. Please don't have a writer ego that needs such a tremendous beat-down. I don't want to break out the flying monkeys, but I will, if you make me. Write. Read. Put down for a bit. Re-read. Then, if you're happy with it, send it off. This is elementary, my dear author. I will be forced to take the element of fire to your feet if you fail to re-read your own work. Along with the flying monkeys. Then it would really suck to be you.

Shouting *and* threats? Goodness, me, I'm getting cranky in my old age.

Finally, consider of the back cover of your book. Really visualize it. If you can't write up a synopsis in less than a page, you're going to need an editor with balls of steel to contend with that sort of thing. To me, a gigantic synopsis indicates a failure to recognize the key points of your own story and if you can't manage it, it's time to seriously cut down on the plots (or characters or ideas) that you're trying to write about. Seriously, if you want to touch on that many twists and turns and people, perhaps envisage a trilogy or something, where the whole of each arc can be given equal due. If your synopsis isn't choice then the chances of your book rambling and shambling on it's own merry way without regard is high. You owe it to the story to tell it in the best way possible. Words are your own chosen currency, spend them wisely.

Focus is your responsibility, as the shepherd of your story, to apply to your book liberally. Your editor will thank you. Your readers will thank you. The flying monkeys might thank you, too.

Jenna Huffman, Editrix, come on down!

We've asked, and she's consented, and as a result, our resident Editrix Jenna Huffman will actually be resident.  She's going to become a regular member of the KP Blog team, posting about this, that and/or the other thing as her fancy is caught, but mainly, we think and hope, on editing.  We're going to start (hopefully) a semi-regular feature where Jenna will address various editing issues and concerns, called Dear Editrix. So if you're a writer, or just interested in writing, and have an editricial question of a general nature, you should send it on in, either as a comment to this post (or Jenna's wonderful editorial post of yesterday) or to Jenna directly, jjh.edits@gmail.com. Please put Dear Editrix in the subject line so Jenna knows that it's a query for this blog.

Letters From the Editrix

Dearest Authors,


First, let me thank my gracious hosts, The Kindling Press, for inviting me over for a wee guest spot on their blog! I’m delighted, to be sure. I am Jenna, an editor, avid book reader and sometime goofball. I thought I’d give a little advice to as to why you might want to consider finding an editor of your very own.


Reason 1) Because your reader doesn’t live in your head.


This is one of the most important lessons I can bring to bear – while you’re happily typing away, spinning a yarn of utmost fascination, you must be able to bring your readers along with you. This means that you must learn to describe your characters, scenes, gadgets and plotlines well enough that your reader will be able to assimilate and imagine the tale along with you. You may know what you’re talking about because it’s crystal-clear in your mind; your reader doesn’t share your insight! I find that authors sometimes unintentionally carry on without setting up a scene or plot twist well, leaving the reader with a big fat question mark and possibly turning them off completely. Authors have their world fully formed in their noggins, so they presume the telling that they’re giving is sufficient. Sometimes, in fact, it’s just not. A good editor will ask for
clarification, offer suggestions for solidifying things, and even cut out overly flowery prose to get to the meat of the matter.


Reason 2) Consistency is key.


When reading a book, it’s very important to me that the little things (like your character’s names, for instance) are absolutely consistent, each and every time. When I first began editing, it was for love of a story I found on iBooks. It was gripping, truly, but the amount of inconsistency, even down to random modifications to the spelling of the main character’s name throughout, drove me bugnuts. I wrote to the author, literally begging to clean up the manuscript to let the story shine as it was meant to – and they took me up on it. Spell check is all well and good, but another eye on your work to ensure consistency of pacing, tone, and minor typographical errors is priceless. That, and the best spelling and grammar checking software usually does not catch the “you’re/ your” “their/they’re/there” or even “its/it’s” variances. I’m certainly not perfect, but the difference is usually evident to me and can be corrected before it’s published.


Reason 3) It’s your baby, indulge it with a quick polish!


Authors, as a whole, are extremely protective of their wordsmithing abilities, and rightfully so. You’re baring somewhat of your soul to the world, a peek into your own psyche, which can be really terrifying. With that in mind, don’t you owe it to yourself to offer the world the best version of that piece of your soul? If you’re afraid to show it to one other person (an editor, perhaps?), how in the world are you going to release it into the wild? The fear of criticism runs deep, but the challenges and modifications any editor will bring to the table are not a personal attack. Ever. They are to help your work shine like it was meant to. Editors can also help to offer insights if you get “stuck” somewhere, if they’re familiar enough with your stories. I see myself as a partner in crime, as it were, not as the big bad wolf with a huge red pen, ready to slash your story to bits. It behooves me to help you make your book as strong as it can be, and if that means questioning things to death or cutting out something you may feel strongly about, I will do it. I want you to succeed; your success can only bolster my own, in the long run.


Reason 4) If you’re very nice to them, they might make you cookies!


And that, dear readers, is it from your friendly neighborhood editrix for today. I again want to thank my gracious hosts, The Kindling Press, for inviting me to guest, and hope to do so again in the future! If you have any pressing questions you’ve always wanted to ask an editor, feel free to email me at jjh.edits@gmail.com.


Happy writing,
Jenna