Jane Friedman's Blog: Jane Friedman, page 51

3 Critical Questions to Ask Yourself Before You Draft (or Revise!) a Novel

Photo by Volodymyr Hryshchenko on Unsplash

Today’s post is by regular contributor Susan DeFreitas (@manzanitafire), an award-winning author, editor, and book coach.

As an independent editor and book coach, I’ve worked with writers at every stage of the writing process, from those first brainstorming exercises all the way through to the polished final draft.

I’d like to think that I’m able to be of service at virtually any stage of this process. But, friends, I have a confession to make: I wish a lot of people came to me (or someone like me) sooner.

Because so often, a writer has spent years of their life working on a novel that runs to 300+ pages before they seek out qualified feedback—which means that I’m the one who has to break the bad news that their 300+ page epic really just does not hang together at all.

Yes, I’m talking about story structure. Not story structure as in Three Act, or Four Act, or Save the Cat or any of those (though I think those are all fine formats to work with, should you find them a fit for your project).

Rather, I’m talking about structure on a deeper level.

The way I see it, it doesn’t matter what higher-level story structure you’re working with, whether it’s as traditional as the Hero’s Journey or as experimental as the story spiral explored by Jane Alison in Meander, Spiral, Explode: Design and Pattern in Narrative—there are three levels that your story must hold together on if it’s going to read like a story.

1. Character

Critical question: Does your protagonist have a real character arc?

A character arc is some way that the protagonist grows and changes over the course of the novel—some important way that the events of the story push them to see the world differently, and change.

Novels that lack a real character arc can be well written, and moving at the level of the scene, and perhaps even have some truly poignant moments. But they don’t tend to have a strong emotional effect on the reader—and in the end, such stories tend to feel like they’re lacking that certain something that makes a novel satisfying to read.

That certain something is a sense of meaning—the sense that the story was about something more than just the events of the plot.

Some writers seem to regard the protagonist’s character arc as something akin to bookends—something you can tack on at the beginning of the novel, showing the protagonist’s internal issue, and then again at the end, showing us how they’ve overcome it.

But a real character arc—meaning, an arc that has real emotional power—runs the whole length of the story, giving it a sense of internal depth and dimension. There’s no major external event of the plot that doesn’t connect with this internal transformation, and this is part of what makes the story as a whole feel “of a piece.”

2. Plot

Critical question: Do the events of your plot have a strong causal relationship?

Recently, Allison K Williams shared an excellent post on this blog about using a synopsis to fix your book. In that post, she pointed out that any sequence of events in your synopsis that can only be related via the words “and then” rather than the words “therefore” or “but” denote danger zones in your novel: places where the story is bound to drag, and feel slow from your reader’s point of view.

Figuring out where your story begins is largely a matter of zeroing in on this question: What is the event that precipitates every other? Which event acts as the tipping point that sets into motion a tightly linked chain of cause and effect?

If you’ve started too early in the story—too far away from that critical tipping point—your reader will experience your opening as slow.

Likewise, if there are too many things that happen in the story after that inciting incident that aren’t actually part of that chain of cause and effect, you’re going to have sections that feel slow, lacking in narrative momentum.

3. Goals and motivations

Critical questions: Does your protagonist have a higher-order goal in your novel? Does what they’re doing make sense, in terms of trying to achieve that goal? And is the way the world responds to those efforts convincing?

There are many ways that issues with story logic can hide in plain sight in your novel, and getting to the bottom of them is generally just a matter of taking a good, hard look at each of the major turns of the story.

These issues tend to be easier to see in an example, so let’s say that your protagonist is from a small Midwestern town, and her higher-order goal (the one she’ll be trying to achieve over the course of the novel) is to become a big-city journalist.

So what does she do in order to pursue that goal? Let’s say she up and moves to San Francisco.

How did she conceive of that idea? Why San Francisco and not Chicago? And if she doesn’t already know anyone in San Francisco, or have a job lined up—well, have you established exactly why your protagonist would decide to do something that risky, that totally out of the blue?

If the answer is no, then you have an issue with backstory and characterization that will have to be addressed if this turn of your story is going to make sense to your reader.

Say the protagonist meets her love interest on her first day in the big city and he tells her he can get her a job writing for the online news magazine where he works if she’ll pretend to be his girlfriend while his parents are in town.

What does this guy think he’ll accomplish by convincing his parents he has a girlfriend when he actually doesn’t? Why doesn’t he have a real girlfriend? And why did he pick this particular young woman to be his pretend girlfriend, rather than someone he already knows?

Again: If you don’t know the answers to these questions—or if those answers aren’t clear to the reader—then the story itself won’t feel convincing.

Same thing with the way the world responds to the events of your story. Imagine that something our would-be big-city journalist and her beau wind up doing gets recorded in public, and posted to social media, and that video goes viral. Why did it go viral? What was it about this video that captured so many people’s imaginations?

If you don’t have a convincing reason for this to happen, then the story development will not feel convincing to your reader—which has the potential to tank the whole story, if there’s not an easy fix for that issue in revision.

Save yourself time and stress! Make sure your novel is sound at each of these fundamental levels before you spend years of your life on it—so you can work with folks like me on fine-tuning that masterpiece, rather than rebuilding it from the ground up.

Is an Editor Worth the Money?

Ask the Editor is a column for your questions about the editing process and editors themselves. It’s a place to bring your conundrums and dilemmas and mixed feelings, no matter how big or small. Want to be considered? Learn more and submit your question.

This month’s Ask the Editor is sponsored by The Shit No One Tells You About Writing Podcast. Step up your writing game and meet fellow writers with The Deep Dive Workshop, a 10-week series from the podcast hosts of The Shit No One Tells You About Writing. Each week you’ll hear from expert writers and editors, followed by workshops led by Bianca, Carly or CeCe.

Question

I’m a few pages away from finishing a first draft of a multi-generational novel that runs about 500 pages, which I plan to pitch to agents and traditional publishers. After two years of revisions and polishing, I feel the draft is in good shape (don’t we all?) but am wondering if I should pay for a professional editor to look at it or just get feedback from beta readers. Is an editor worth the money? Note that I have published a nonfiction book before with an indie publisher but this is my first novel. Appreciate your thoughts.

—Seeking advice in Pennsylvania

Dear Seeking:

I often joke that the least-popular answer in this business—and yet the one that applies most often—is “it depends.” That’s the answer to both of your questions, but let me elaborate a bit on each one.

Should I Hire an Editor?

Whether a professional editor might be useful at this point depends on where you are in your drafting process, on your goals for a particular manuscript, and on what type of edit you’re considering.

Where you are: Every author seems to define “first draft” differently—from the raw initial “vomit draft” to the first revised version that you’ve taken as far as you’re able to on your own. Judging from your description, it sounds like your first draft is the latter.

That can be a great time to seek an editor, if you plan to—but you asked about seeking beta readers at this point, and for my money (literally), that and/or critique partners is where I’d start.

Before you pay a professional the often thousands of dollars a developmental edit can cost, why not see how well what you’ve done on your own is working on the page through the eyes of some trusted readers? The feedback they offer may help you see any weaknesses in the story and fine-tune even further—and then you can determine whether to hire an editor.

Your goals and type of edit: I’m assuming (despite the rampant dangers of doing so) that you are referring to a developmental edit with your question. You mention that you are planning to submit this story to agents—some of whom may offer editorial feedback—and to seek a traditional publisher, where you will get developmental editing in-house. In that case hiring your own editor may not be necessary.

But that presupposes that your manuscript is solid and marketable enough to pass through these gatekeepers. That’s a hard thing to determine—but this self-editing checklist may help you assess whether you’re ready for prime time, as can feedback you receive from critique partners and beta readers.

And of course if you’ve been submitting and are getting only rejections or crickets, that may be another indication that you might strengthen the story with the help of a pro. As is your gut—I find most authors have an intuitive sense of when something isn’t quite working as well as they want it to, or that certain areas of the story don’t hold together as strongly as they could, even if they may not be certain what it is or how to address it. That’s where an editor can help.

You won’t likely need to hire a copyeditor for a traditional publishing path unless you have major grammar/spelling/usage issues that may negatively impact agents’ and editors’ experience of your manuscript.

For authors considering self-publishing, I highly recommend a professional developmental editor as well as a copyeditor and a proofreader so that their story and mechanics are at a competitive level with traditionally published books, which will have gone through these processes. Sometimes this applies to small presses too, some of which may not offer comprehensive or deep editing.

One thought specific to your situation I’d like to add is that while you don’t mention word count, 500 industry-standard formatted pages translates to about 125,000 words. While that’s an acceptable length for some fiction, higher page count means higher production costs, and publishers may not always be willing to invest the extra money in an unproven debut author (which you’ll likely be considered, as this is your first work of fiction).

That might make it harder to find a publisher, and a good development editor may be able to help you see how to tighten the story to a more marketable length.

Is a Professional Edit Worth It?

Your second question—is an editor worth the money?—has the same squishy answer: It depends.

A good, in-depth, constructive professional developmental edit is worth every penny of the often significant investment. It will pinpoint areas of weakness you may have been blind to, gaps you may not have seen because you are filling in the blanks in your head, and unclear or underdeveloped areas that may hamper a reader’s investment and engagement in your story.

A good editor will not just offer objective, constructive feedback, but will make it actionable, specifying why something may not be working as well as it could, and also pointing you toward concrete ways to address those areas—all, ideally, while respecting your vision and your voice and helping you get them on the page as effectively as possible. And it will improve your skills in these areas for your subsequent manuscripts.

But an unskillful edit is not only a waste of money, but can do more damage to your story and you as a writer than nearly anything else, potentially pushing your story in a direction you didn’t intend, diluting or hijacking your voice or vision, and even undercutting your confidence in your writing and yourself.

All edits—and all editors—are not created equal, and it’s of highest importance to carefully vet anyone you’re considering working with for their qualifications, experience, skill, and how well they “get” you and your intentions (preferably with a sample edit, which I usually recommend not hiring a developmental editor without).

Jane and editor Chantel Hamilton have a great guide here for making sure you hire someone who will elevate your work (and red flags to watch out for), I have tips here as well, including where to look for reputable editors. It takes time and effort to carefully vet an editor, but it pays off exponentially.

If you are self-publishing, a good professional copyeditor and proofreader will also rank among the best money you can spend. Readers can be brutally unforgiving of mistakes and typos, and unlikely to get past sloppy mechanics no matter how good your story is. As with development editors, make sure to hire pros with solid experience in your medium (i.e., book publishing, rather than academics or journalism, for example).

I’m not of the school of thought that every author needs to hire a professional editor with every manuscript—I know plenty of authors who have sold books without doing so. But if you’ve stretched yourself to the utmost and done all you can, and still have reason to suspect your story is not quite “there” yet, a good, reputable edit may be just the resource you need to push you across the finish line.

—Tiffany Yates Martin

This month’s Ask the Editor is sponsored by The Shit No One Tells You About Writing Podcast. Step up your writing game and meet fellow writers with The Deep Dive Workshop, a 10-week series from the podcast hosts of The Shit No One Tells You About Writing. Each week you’ll hear from expert writers and editors, followed by workshops led by Bianca, Carly or CeCe.

Before You Hire a Developmental Editor: What You Need to Know

Today’s guest post is a Q&A by Sangeeta Mehta (@sangeeta_editor), a former acquiring editor of children’s books at Little, Brown and Simon & Schuster, who runs her own editorial services company.

In 2020, when I was heading the project to update the rates chart for the Editorial Freelancers Association (EFA), I asked our group of volunteers to update and define several editorial skills. If we were going to survey the membership about their rates, then our group, the membership, and potential clients all needed to have the same understanding of the editorial work in question.

Defining “copyediting” and “proofreading” was a straightforward task that sparked little debate. But when it came to “developmental editing,” it was nearly impossible to come to a consensus. Some saw developmental editing as a partnership between a writer and editor to “develop” a manuscript; others suggested that such an exchange of ideas would be considered “coaching” or “consulting.” Some insisted that “line editing” is a part of developmental editing; others were adamant that line editing is an entirely separate service. Most people in our volunteer group were not fans of the term “substantive editing” since all editing is, arguably, substantive.

Two years later, I’ve continued to notice a wide range of approaches when it comes to freelance developmental editing. Those who specialize in trade books—or books targeted to a mainstream audience—also seem to have a different perspective from those who specialize in books for an academic or niche audience. To take a deep dive into the nuances of my focus, developmental editing of trade books, I spoke with longtime colleague Julie Scheina and new colleague Susan Chang, both of whom have similar training to me in that we have all worked for corporate trade book publishers. We differ, however, in terms of our specific work experience, years spent in the field, and genre interests. What follows is an edited version of our Zoom conversation.

To start, can you explain your definition of developmental editing? Is it the same or different from substantive, structural, comprehensive, and/or content editing? Where do editorial letters—better known in our field as “edit letters”—fit in? Are assessments, critiques, evaluations, and/or line edits part of your developmental editing services?

Julie Scheina: Funnily enough, it was only when I became a freelance editor that I heard the term “developmental editing.” When you work in-house for a publisher, different positions are assigned to each stage: there are editors who focus on acquisitions and developmental edits; copyeditors who focus on copyediting; and proofreaders who focus on proofreading. In the freelance world, it’s possible for one person to offer all of those services at different stages of the editorial process, and that’s where some of these confusing and overlapping terms come into play.

To me, developmental editing is any editorial feedback that helps the author strengthen and develop their manuscript between the initial draft and when the manuscript is ready for copyediting, proofreading, and publication. Different editors may call this substantive, structural, comprehensive, or content editing—to my knowledge they all mean basically the same thing.

The type of developmental editing that I provide for authors depends on the stage of the manuscript and the author’s needs. If the manuscript is in the earlier stages, I often provide a critique. This is a big-picture assessment of the manuscript’s core strengths and weaknesses. Usually critiques are shorter—around two or three pages—whereas a full editorial letter is typically longer and offers more specific feedback beyond those core areas.

I also offer line edits, depending on whether the manuscript is ready for that level of detail and if that’s how the author prefers to receive feedback. Some authors like to receive developmental line edits in earlier drafts, while others like to wait until their manuscript is further along.

Susan Chang: I had the same experience! I had never really used the term “developmental editing” before I got into freelancing. For me, it’s the same as global, structural, or content ending. And within that framework, I offer two different services: “manuscript assessments” and “developmental edits,” and the manuscript must be a completed draft. Any work prior to that stage I charge under my coaching rate. I have definitions on my website and on my rate sheet. If a writer has trouble deciding because they don’t understand the difference, I will share examples of a manuscript assessment and a developmental edit letter from clients who have given me permission to share these materials.

If we make an analogy to medicine, the assessment is the diagnosis. When I do an assessment of a manuscript, I diagnose the big global issues. The developmental edit is the prescription, so it deals with those issues in more depth, and I am offering suggestions for ways to fix the issues. This analogy to medicine might be pretentious—we’re not saving lives—but it comes from a task I was given when I started my career at HarperCollins Children’s Books: I was asked to transcribe a talk that legendary editor Ursula Nordstrom had given. She actually did say this—that, as an editor faced with a manuscript, you must take what amounts to the Hippocratic oath: First, Do No Harm. In the speech, Nordstrom pointed out that creative spirits can be harmed by careless, thoughtless comments. And as editors, we want to preserve that creative spirit.

Line editing is something that I will only do under special circumstances. If the writing is fairly strong and polished, and I think I can help bring it to another level, then I’m more apt to take it on. But if I’m needing to actually fix grammar and clarify meaning, then it’s too time-consuming and I won’t take it on.

Sangeeta Mehta: One reason I asked this question is that editorial organizations also vary in their definitions of “developmental editing.” While the EFA defines and offers classes on developmental editing, Editors Canada doesn’t name this skill as one of its four core editorial skills (though it does point out that the first of these skills, “structural editing” is also known as “developmental editing”). Since we tend to use medical terminology in our field, the reference to the Hippocratic Oath is fitting! For example, “book doctoring” is another common but ambiguous editorial specialization; some would call it heavy developmental editing while others would liken it to ghostwriting. All this is to say that writers should find out what exactly their developmental editor has in mind before hiring them.

For a writer seeking to improve their craft with the goal of landing a traditional trade book deal, how important is it to find a developmental editor who has worked in the field? Could an editor who has written or taught trade books, edited trade books on a freelance basis, or who closely follows industry news be just as effective as someone who has been in the trenches, so to speak?

SC: You don’t necessarily need to have worked in traditional publishing to be able to help an author improve their story. When I was starting my business, I asked a good friend, an author and a writing coach who leads retreats, and who has never worked in traditional publishing, to show me an example of one her editorial letters, and it was honestly one of the most impressive editorial letters I’ve ever read. She was amazing in terms of the craft.

That said, what an editor with in-house experience can offer you, that is not going to come from anyone who has not been in the industry, is the marketing sensibility about what is commercial. We have an instinct for if a book is going to be commercial enough for traditional publishing because it’s been beaten into us as (acquiring) editors. You need a hook and a target market, and this needs to be articulated to everyone you’re pitching the book to, from agents all the way down the line to the end consumer, the reader. So, if your goal is to be traditionally published, then you might prefer someone with this kind of insider knowledge.

JS: I think that the type of experience someone has is more important than where they got that experience. There are many teachers and authors who have a wealth of experience providing constructive editorial feedback. At the same time, being an experienced author or teacher doesn’t automatically equate to being an experienced editor. Each role requires different skill sets. Effective editorial feedback is specific as well as actionable. An editor should not just be able to identify a weak character arc, for example, but also give the author suggestions for how to strengthen that character.

Personally, I do feel that working in-house at a large traditional publisher gave me a valuable depth and breadth of experience. Editors who have worked in-house can often provide insight into publishing’s many confusing and complicated processes. But I would never say that an editor who hasn’t worked in-house can’t help writers improve their craft, because I’ve seen many examples to the contrary.

SM: While some of the best editors I know are educators and authors or are self-taught, I agree that those who have worked in publishing house—large or small, corporate or independent—are more likely to think critically about how books fit into the marketplace. (Freelance editors who have previously worked as literary agents are even better trained in this kind of thinking, but if they are actively agenting at the same time they are running an editing business, they should abide by the Association of American Literary Agents’ canon of ethics to avoid a potential conflict of interest.) If I don’t consider the premise and competition when I’m editing, then I find myself working at the sentence or paragraph level rather than holistically. However, I imagine that authors at the beginning stages of their careers or who are open to self-publishing might be happier with someone who prioritizes craft over market concerns.

On this same note, how important is it for the editor to have experience in the writer’s genre and category? For example, do you think that a former acquiring editor of adult novels can effectively edit teen novels? What about someone who has years of experience at a mystery or romance imprint? Should a writer trust this editor with their work of nonfiction—children’s or adult?

JS: Many genres and age groups do overlap, though there are some important distinctions between certain categories. I’ll use myself as an example. My focus is solely on fiction, and one piece of advice I give to authors is to finish their full manuscript and revise it before they begin querying. However, the process for nonfiction is very different. Nonfiction is often sold on a proposal, some sample chapters, and a table of contents or an outline. Because I don’t edit nonfiction, my advice and experience wouldn’t be as helpful or applicable.

Likewise, readers of certain genres may have specific expectations or tropes, such as a “happily ever after” in romance. Editors generally need to have a foundational knowledge of typical tropes in the genres they edit, even when an author is working to subvert readers’ expectations.

When it comes to age group distinctions, there’s definitely more overlap between young adult thrillers and adult thrillers than between young adult thrillers and adult nonfiction. Sometimes an author may not be sure whether their book is a better fit for middle grade versus young adult readers, for example, or for young adult versus adult. In these cases, an experienced editor can help authors to position their book for the right market.

If an editor doesn’t usually edit a certain category or genre, I’d advise authors to consider the specific type of feedback they are seeking and whether the editor’s experience is a good match. For example, I’ve had authors who’ve said, “I know you don’t usually edit adult fiction, but I’d like your thoughts on this character arc because your character development notes on my young adult book were helpful.”

SC: I have a lot of thoughts here. I always say that in terms of genre, the children’s book people are generalists and adult editors are specialists. What children’s book editors do have specialized knowledge about is their target audiences. There are certain nuances of editing for specific age ranges that we have internalized that editors who have only worked on adult books might not be aware of. Fewer adult professionals read or are familiar with children’s or YA books. Whereas children’s book editors are adults, and we read adult books all the time!

Generally, I think that anyone with a good sense of storytelling and craft can edit anything, but for children’s and young adult books, there has to be a genuine sensibility for the specific audience.

SM: Sometimes one’s specialization depends on where in the field they land. For example, I’ve worked at companies that specialize in literary fiction, business books, and children’s books because these are the jobs that have come my way, so I have applied some of these experiences to my editing business. None of my past employers have focused on commercial fiction for adults, but I actively take on such projects because I tend to read in this area more than in others. Writers might ask the editor they are considering hiring about their reading interests and tastes, if the editor doesn’t have demonstrated experience in the writer’s genre, age category, or literary form.

Most independent developmental editors base their fees on their past work experience. This means that a former SVP at Random House who had a hand in publishing international bestsellers, for instance, is likely to charge a higher—in some cases, exorbitant—fee as compared to an editor who acquired for a lesser-known house and didn’t climb the corporate ladder. But is the writer necessarily getting a better editor? Better industry contacts, assuming the editor chooses to share them?

SC: I don’t think that the level an editor reached in the industry correlates to how much they can charge–I definitely didn’t take that into consideration when setting my rates. But if any editor or former SVP can convince clients to give them exorbitant fees because they got higher up on the ladder, more power to them.

Clients aren’t necessarily getting a better editor, because, as I mentioned earlier, I know amazing editors who have never worked at a publisher. Nor do I think that sharing industry contacts is or can ever be part of the service. If I believe in a project, and if I genuinely believe I can help the client get to the next stage, whether that is finding an agent or suggesting that their agent share it with certain editors, I will share contacts. But I don’t know that when I’m signing them, so that never comes into the computation of the fee.

JS: In publishing, you’re often given more managerial responsibilities as you rise higher on the ladder, so you’re not necessarily editing more than you were before; you may be editing fewer, higher-profile books and managing other editors, for example. That’s one of the reasons that I love freelancing—it allows me to focus fully on editing rather than juggling the other responsibilities of an in-house editor.

Editors with higher titles and who worked on higher-profile books are likely more visible, which means they may be more in demand and able to charge higher fees. However, while a title can show how valued an editor was at their publishing house, I don’t think that title alone is always an accurate barometer of editorial skill. I’d place greater value on an editor’s years of experience working on specific books in an author’s category and genre. Personally, I feel like I’m always learning as an editor. Every author I work with and every book I work on teaches me something new, and I’m able to pass that on to the next author I work with.

In terms of industry contacts, I enjoy helping authors with their query letters and answering questions about the submissions process. But I advise authors that it’s in their best interests to research agents themselves, even though it’s a time-consuming process. Researching agents allows authors to get a better sense of whether they connect with an agent’s communication style, if the agent’s advice resonates with them, and generally whether the agent might be a good fit for them and their work.

SM: We’ve all had a hand in editing bestselling books, communicating with famous authors, and making deals with powerful literary agents. When working for a corporate publisher, this comes with the territory. But I agree that this experience doesn’t correlate with an editor’s ability to edit. Acquiring books and shepherding them through the publishing process is a different skill from developmental editing. If an author hires an editor based solely on the editor’s portfolio and the allure of contacts it could lead to, it’s possible, but not likely, that their expectations will be met.

At what point in their career do you recommend that a writer hire a developmental editor? At the idea or outline stage? Once they’ve completed a draft? Or once they have taken their draft as far as they can, after incorporating feedback from beta readers and/or critique partners?

JS: Ideally, I encourage authors to try to take their manuscript as far as they can on their own before they pay for professional feedback, particularly if they are budget conscious or if they’re relatively new to writing books. This may mean making connections with critique partners, writing groups, or other trusted readers who can share initial feedback, or even just putting the manuscript away for a few weeks and then rereading and revising it. These steps can help authors identify issues that may be readily apparent and can allow the professional editor to share feedback that’s more specific and nuanced than it would be with an initial draft. Forming strong connections within the writing community can also be invaluable for authors over the course of their career.

While this approach is more cost-effective than hiring an editor for every pass, of course the trade-off is time. Not everyone has access to trusted readers or the time to form those connections before moving forward with their manuscript. Likewise, some authors find it helpful to get professional feedback on an outline or on multiple story ideas before moving forward. So there isn’t one perfect time or one best way to approach the process—it depends on authors’ needs, budget, and schedule.

SC: It’s definitely based on how much budget you have. If you have a finished draft that is very raw, and you can afford to pay for multiple rounds of developmental editing, that’s great. But if you can only afford one round of developmental editing, then definitely get your draft as far as possible yourself before you hire that editor. It will save you time.

You might work with a bunch of beta readers or with a critique group, but when you’re ready for a professional read, you will probably be shocked at how much more you’re going to get from the professional. There’s a difference in the quality of feedback. A professional editor is not your friend. They’re not trying to spare your feelings. They will approach the criticism with honesty–and hopefully with some tact and compassion, which is how I always try to do it.

That being said, I do offer editorial coaching at an hourly rate to take ideas from concept to synopsis to outline to first draft. For example, I’m working with a client now: I asked him to give me twenty-five ideas, one sentence each. One of them is a slam-dunk to pitch as a series, so we worked on outlines for the first two books. He’s writing drafts and then I’m going to help him put together a series proposal.

SM: I feel that I’m most helpful when working either on a completed draft or on the first several chapters of a novel plus a synopsis or outline. But yes, a writer can find that it’s just as or more effective to work with an editor at an earlier stage of the writing process. In some cases, the editor might function as more of a sounding board or accountability partner than as a developmental editor. But again, this skill is open to interpretation, and such support might be exactly what the writer needs to develop their manuscript.

Many copyeditors, especially those who are new to freelancing, offer a free sample edit to help potential clients make an informed hiring decision. Should writers expect the same of developmental editors? Request references or speak with them on the phone? Do you think it’s best for writers to go with an editor who offers written feedback, or can oral feedback be just as valuable when it comes to developmental editing?

SC: I never do sample edits, because I don’t think you can do a sample edit for a global process like developmental editing or even a manuscript assessment, but I will provide examples of previous work if asked. What I offer instead is to read a potential client’s query package and then set up a free consultation to give them my preliminary thoughts based on the sample.

I always provide written feedback, but some of my coaching clients seem to prefer to discuss my feedback in addition, or like to brainstorm over Zoom, so I’m happy to set up weekly or biweekly brainstorming sessions. I’m pretty flexible because I enjoy working in all different ways, and I tailor the approach to each client, because different writers process feedback in different ways.

JS: Developmental editing is different from copyediting in this way, because it requires an understanding of how the characters and story progress over the course of the full manuscript. To me, providing a sample developmental edit on ten pages of a full-length novel would be like writing a restaurant review after taking one bite of an appetizer—it’s not really feasible or helpful.

While I don’t provide sample developmental edits, I often talk to authors beforehand so that they can ask questions and get a sense of my approach as well as the overall process. That personal connection can be helpful when authors are making the difficult decision of who to entrust with their work, which is not something I take lightly.

In terms of feedback, I always make written notes as part of my editorial process. I’m a visual learner, and writing helps me to organize my thoughts and to be more specific and concise. So I almost always provide written notes, and then the author and I will set up a time to talk after they’ve had a chance to review them. Phone calls work well for follow-up questions because we can have more of a dialogue, or even a spontaneous brainstorming session. I also think that written notes are helpful because an author can return to them during the revision process, rather than trying to remember a conversation that may have happened weeks or months ago.

SM: I don’t know of any experienced developmental editors (those who have been in the industry for at least a few years) who offer sample edits. Most provide written comments in the form of an editorial letter. I’ve heard of editors delivering feedback on the phone without offering any written notes—but writers should keep in mind that this makes it easy for the editor to tell them what they want to hear without doing a deep analysis. I’ve also found that some writers are loath to interact with an editor on the phone but will gladly email or chat on an app. This is another reason writers should ask themselves what kind of feedback they prefer—casual or concrete.

We all know how subjective this industry is. One literary agent’s or acquiring editor’s taste can be vastly different from that of another. It’s no wonder we often hear the phrase, “it only takes one yes!” We also all have our individual tastes. That said, do you sometimes encourage writers to consult with different developmental editors before they delve into revisions?

JS: My view is that the earlier someone is in the writing process, the more people they can consult with for feedback. So if an author has an initial idea or wants to talk about a particular part of their book, for example, then they might run it by their writing group. As authors move forward with their manuscript, I recommend they narrow the amount of feedback they solicit until they are ultimately sharing their polished draft with only one or two trusted readers. Books are subjective, and it’s common for editors to give conflicting notes about the same manuscript. If authors try to incorporate feedback from too many different sources, their original voice and vision can start to become lost.

The subjective nature of editing is also one of the reasons why I always ask authors to share the first 10–15 pages of their manuscript with me, along with a plot summary and any other details about the project and their goals for working with an editor. If I don’t have a clear vision for how I can help the author strengthen their manuscript, then I’ll recommend that they consider reaching out to other editors. I’ve also advised authors who’ve completed a particularly significant or challenging revision to share the manuscript with a trusted fresh reader—someone who hasn’t read the previous drafts—in order to get a sense of whether the changes they’ve made are working effectively.

SC: I’m happy to recommend other editors if I’m not able to take a project on, either because I don’t have time or I don’t resonate with it. But I never recommend that they get multiple edits of the same pass because I think it’s counterproductive. You have to develop your own gut sense of what’s right for your own work in the end. Even when I was in-house, I always made sure to tell my authors: it’s your name on the book, so you always have final say.

And on this side of the desk, I always thank people for trusting me with their books, because it is a huge deal. But if you trust me with your book, then you kind of have to trust my feedback, assuming that it feels right to you; and if you’re listening to feedback from five other editors you’ve hired, and you have this sense of insecurity or paralysis, and you haven’t yet developed that author gut, then you’re not going to get anywhere.

SM: Admittedly, I sometimes encourage writers to seek feedback from other developmental editors. In the same way a patient might seek a second opinion from a doctor, a writer might want a second opinion from a reputable editor, especially if the first editor’s opinion isn’t sitting well with them. I’m flattered when writers ask me my opinion, but they should always trust themselves.

Are there any red flags writers should look out for in their search for an independent editor, perhaps an editor who subcontracts without informing their clients? Or for whom freelancing is a stopgap between salaried positions? After all, anyone can hang up their editor shingle, and none of us can promise our clients an agent or book deal. What are writers paying for, besides an opinion?

SC: I think that the biggest red flag is somebody with suspiciously low rates—so someone, for example, who will do a developmental edit on an 80,000-word manuscript for $500. Another red flag is an editor who doesn’t approach this job in a professional way. They should communicate with you in a reasonable timeframe; deliver their edits on time, and give you a professional level of feedback.

If the editor subcontracts and they tell you, and you’re okay with this, then it’s fine. If the editor is freelancing as a stop gap, then they have to finish their work with you no matter what.

A written agreement is also important because it validates the editor as a professional. It should spell out what that service is, when it’s due, what happens if the editor doesn’t deliver, payment terms, etc. Both parties have to protect themselves.

JS: It’s a red flag if an editor is reluctant to put the project terms in writing. I always share a written agreement that outlines the details the author and I have discussed, including the manuscript length, the type of editorial notes, the fee, and the delivery and payment schedules.

If you’re working with an editorial consulting group rather than with an individual editor, you should know which specific editor you’ll be working with before you move forward.

Lastly, editing is a skill that is honed with time and practice. Before you invest in working with a professional editor, take the time to research the editor’s experience. What’s their online presence like? Do they share other books they’ve edited, testimonials from other authors they’ve worked with, or other details about their experience? I believe it’s important for authors to find an editor who they trust—not only to identify the weaknesses of their book, but who has the necessary expertise to thoughtfully guide them in strengthening those weaknesses.

SM: Another red flag could be unusually high rates, especially from an editor who is just starting out. And yes, a written agreement or statement—but not necessarily a contract—is a must. I’ve heard of “handshake” deals between agents and writers, and this often leads to disappointment for the author. If an author is hiring a freelance editor, the terms should be very clear since a fee is involved.

Do you have any other advice for writers looking to hire a freelance developmental editor of trade books?

JS: Think carefully about what you hope to achieve by working with a freelance editor. In addition to the financial investment, do you currently have the time and creative energy to think deeply about your book and to complete revisions that may be challenging? How do you prefer to receive feedback? Do you connect with what you can see of the editor’s communication style?

Many freelance editors’ schedules become booked a few months in advance. When possible, authors should begin researching and reaching out to potential freelance editors in advance of when they’d like to start working together.

SC: Ask around for personal recommendations like you do when you’re hiring any professional, like an accountant or a lawyer. Do your due diligence, read testimonials and reviews, and definitely talk to the editor first. You’re entrusting that person with your hopes and your dreams and potentially years of your life. Traditional publishing is a small world. It’s based on relationships, reputation, and trust. And if your end goal is to be traditionally published, it’s on you to do your research, whether you’re looking for a freelance developmental editor to get your manuscript into the best possible shape to land an agent, acquisitions editors to add to your wish list, or your dream publishing houses to submit to. Good luck!

Julie Scheina is the owner of Julie Scheina Editorial Services, LLC, and a former senior editor at Little, Brown Books for Young Readers. Julie has over fifteen years of experience editing acclaimed and bestselling books for children and young adults. She has edited more than 200 titles across a variety of genres, from picture books and poetry collections to middle grade and young adult novels, and she brings this depth of experience and industry knowledge to every project. Books that Julie has edited have spent more than 125 combined weeks on the New York Times bestseller list and include #1 New York Times bestsellers, a Lambda Literary Award finalist, a William C. Morris Young Adult Debut Award finalist, an Andre Norton Award for Young Adult Science Fiction and Fantasy nominee, an Edgar Award nominee, Bram Stoker Award nominees, and a New York Times Best Illustrated Children’s Book. Julie also has a free resource for writers, Your Editor Friend, a series of weekly letters filled with writing guidance, revision advice, and encouragement.

Susan Chang is a freelance developmental editor with thirty years of experience acquiring books at Big Five publishers. She began her publishing career at HarperCollins Children’s Books, where she worked for nine years before moving on to shorter stints at Hyperion Books for Children (a former imprint of Disney Publishing Worldwide) and Parachute Publishing, a book packager. She was a senior editor at Tor Books (Macmillan Publishers) for seventeen years before launching Susan Chang Editorial. She lives in Queens, the most diverse borough of New York City. Learn more at susanchangeditorial.com.

Sangeeta Mehta (Mehta Book Editing) has worked in the book publishing field since the late 1990s. She has been an acquiring editor at both Little, Brown Books for Young Readers (the children’s division of the Hachette Book Group) and Simon Pulse (the teen paperback division of Simon & Schuster). At Little, Brown, she worked with debut authors and some of the most prominent names in publishing. At Simon Pulse, she acquired and edited commercial fiction and non-fiction and ran two paperback series. She later returned to Hachette to freelance-edit an international bestseller. Prior to working in New York publishing, Sangeeta was a projects manager/reader for West Coast literary agents Margret McBride and Charlotte Gusay. For six years, she served on the Board of Governors of the Editorial Freelancers Association, where she launched and chaired the organization’s Diversity Initiative. She has also served on the board of The Word: A Storytelling Sanctuary.

What I Learned From 90 Queries

Photo by Laura Crowe on Unsplash

Today’s post is by author Eva Langston (@eva_langston).

Don’t be fooled by the title. I’ve actually sent hundreds of queries for four different novels over the past decade. Without going into detail, I queried a novel and eventually got an agent, parted ways with that agent, queried some more, collected rejections, wrote three more novels, queried more, revised a lot, had some babies, and then got back to querying.

My summary: traditional publishing is a long game, so get yourself some gumption.

Now, when I say 90 queries, I’m talking about the queries I sent for my most recent novel. The novel that, after a year and a half in the query trenches, got me an agent. I’m now happily represented by the brilliant Ali Lake of Janklow & Nesbit.

In the fall of 2020, I started querying with what I thought was my best novel yet: a YA paranormal suspense. At first I was getting nothing but form rejections. So I sought advice from my writing group and revised the query letter and opening pages. But still, crickets. Finally I paid for a one-on-one Manuscript Academy meeting with agent Fiona Kenshole. And she laid a finger on why I wasn’t getting any requests.

I was already doing all the things:

Personalizing my query for each agentGiving the genre and word countEnding the summary with the stakes (“Now she must _____ or else _______.”)Including recent comp titles and a brief bio

But once I made the changes described below, I immediately started getting more manuscript requests—ten in total. Not bad in the challenging pandemic publishing environment. And, joy of all joys, one of those requests turned into an offer of representation.

How I changed my query letter

1. I tightened my query, getting rid of anything that wasn’t necessary and specific. I cut the summary part of my query from four paragraphs and 234 words to two paragraphs and 146 words. Think about how agents are reading queries: at night, after a long day of meetings, maybe on their phones on the subway. They are skimming query letters, only spending a minute or two on each one. If yours is long-winded or confusing, they will move on. So use short, concise paragraphs. Get to the point and tell what happens in your book.

2. My novel deals with a major mental health issue, so I worked with a sensitivity reader and mentioned that at the end of my query. I don’t know if this made a difference, but it certainly didn’t hurt, and I know it made my book better.

3. Most importantly, my novel is a mystery/suspense, but my first query letter was too vague because I was afraid to give away the “big twist.” When Fiona Kenshole asked me to tell her about my novel, I started blabbing about the big twist. “That’s fabulous,” she said. “WHY are you not putting that in the query?” I worried it was a spoiler, but she said it was okay to be spoilery because it was what made my story unique. Once I started giving away the big twist in my opening paragraph, I got a lot more agent interest.

In addition to giving away the big twist, I simply told more specifics of the story. Before I was being too coy, hinting at plot points instead of stating them outright. I was afraid of giving away too much, but vagueness is the kiss of death in a query. Better to go big and bold and, most of all, specific so your story will stand out to agents who read hundreds of queries a week.

Remember that agents are not reading your query like a regular reader. They are reading to see if it’s something they can sell. They’re looking for what will make your book stand out in a crowded market. Don’t be afraid to give away the good stuff. The good stuff is what gets their attention.

How I changed my first 10 pages

1. At first my book opened with the protagonist waking up in the middle of the night outside a graveyard. Spooky, yes. Not a bad way to start. But maybe not the most unique, especially for a paranormal novel. So when a friend from my writing group suggested I have my protagonist wake up somewhere else—somewhere equally creepy but less stereotypically spooky—I jumped on the idea. Now the book begins with the main character waking up in a stranger’s darkened kitchen.

Often you are only submitting your first five or ten pages to an agent. If those pages aren’t enough to snag their interest, you’ve lost your shot. Of course you should revise your entire manuscript, but pay extra close attention to your first pages. Are they conveying the right tone? Are they hinting at exciting things to come? Will they get your reader invested in the story?

2. Just like the query letter, I tightened my first ten pages. I cut unnecessary backstory and worked on the pacing. Fast pacing may not be the goal for every story, but certainly for MG/YA and for mystery/suspense, you want to make sure you’re not losing the reader’s attention by letting things drag. Readers of all genres are simply not as patient these days. If your story “really gets going” in Chapter 2, maybe that’s where it should start.

3. In the first few pages, my protagonist runs down the sidewalk in the middle of the night, back to her house. She’s terrified and confused, having woken up somewhere that is not her bed. She’s also barefoot and in her pajamas. It wasn’t bad, but it could have been better.

When I had my meeting with Fiona, she asked me, “Have you actually gone outside in the middle of the night and run down the sidewalk barefoot?” The answer was no, I had not. Fiona suggested I do so to help me better understand the sights and sounds in a neighborhood in the middle of the night, and what it feels like to run barefoot alone in the dark. After my midnight run, I rewrote the first two pages, making them more immediate, sensory, and visceral.

Parting thoughts

Querying can be hard and disheartening. You have to query the right agent at the right time with the right project. Sometimes it really is a numbers game. Even with an excellent query and opening pages, you’ll still get rejections. A lot of them. Just keep going. Celebrate the small things, like a personalized rejection. Start working on something new. And remember, it only takes one “yes” in a sea of “no.” The people who have success in traditional publishing are the ones who refuse to give up.

My final query letter

Dear Ms. Lake,

After seeing your recent #MSWL, I’m querying with my YA paranormal suspense, NOT MYSELF TODAY (81,000 words), in which a girl becomes possessed by a ghost with multiple personalities.

High school senior Natalie doesn’t believe in witchcraft. But in a desperate attempt to find her missing friend, Lorna, she agrees to do a midnight ritual with Lorna’s ex. It doesn’t seem to work, but in the weeks that follow Natalie starts sleepwalking. One night she blacks out at a party and wakes up hours later in the backseat of a stranger’s car with three hundred dollars in her purse and a new contact in her phone.

As she investigates what happened during those lost hours, she becomes convinced the ritual opened her up to the spirit world, and that she’s being possessed by a ghost. A ghost who is plotting a murder. And that this is all somehow connected to her missing friend. Now Natalie must use witchcraft to exorcise the spirit and save Lorna before she blacks out again…and someone ends up dead.

NOT MYSELF TODAY combines the psychological thriller tone of Kit Frick’s I Killed Zoe Spanos with the witchy vibes of teen movie The Craft. Other comp titles include The Door to January by Gillian French and All Our Hidden Gifts by Caroline O’Donoghue.

I am a former high school math teacher with my BA in Psychology and my MFA in fiction writing. My short stories have been published in literary magazines and nominated for the Pushcart Prize. I was previously represented by an agent (for a different novel), but he is no longer agenting. NOT MYSELF TODAY was reviewed by a sensitivity reader with a Dissociative Identity Disorder diagnosis.

Thanks so much for your time. I have pasted the first 10 pages below.

Most Sincerely,
Eva Langston
www.evalangston.com

Blurb Matters: A Quiet Manifesto

“Positive Affirmation” by the justified sinner is licensed under CC BY-NC-SA 2.0.

Today’s post is by author Beth Kephart.

Say he wants a blurb, he wants it bad. He’ll give you less than a week to read a rushed PDF,  and the thing is, you hardly know him. Decades before, maybe, and as a favor to his editor, you wrote a boosting paragraph after his first book launched, but you’re pretty sure that doesn’t mean you’re friends.

Still, his need is urgent—you feel the pulse of desperation beneath the skin of his email. You say yes when you shouldn’t. You claw at your schedule, make reading time. You’re only a few grudging chapters in when you know the trouble you’re in. The blurb-seeker’s book is self-absorbed, self-pitying, self-aggrandizing, without beauty, and to protect your own name, to defend your own ethos, you must step aside. You must let the author know, and soon. You must write the kindest possible declination, and swallowing hard, you do.

Maybe this is hypothetical. Maybe it is true. But let’s continue on. Let’s say your no is not well received. Let’s say you become—increasingly—the object of the blurb-seeker’s ire. Let’s say the whole affair becomes so preposterous—your refusal to engage escalating his anger, his anger escalating into threats—that when you finally shut his emails down and step away, you’re left wondering what this thing is anyway, this thing we call the blurb?

A blurb is an advert, a puff, a commendation, a gloss, according to various dictionary definitions. Or, in the words of Rachel Donadio, writing years ago for The New York Times, blurbs “represent a tangled mass of friendships, rivalries, favors traded and debts repaid, not always in good faith.” Indeed. But how are we to manage them? What place are they to have in our literary lives? Is a blurb an obligation? An apprehension? A price? A prize?

I have, over the course of my writing life, done a lousy job of taking a definitive stance on blurbs. I have been inconsistent and hypocritical, grateful and suspicious, honored and unsure, careful and compromised. I have blurbed books I’ve loved for people I’ve loved and been humbled by the pleasure. I have said no when I should have said yes (I am so sorry). I’ve written blurbs for books I didn’t fully understand, and I’ve written blurbs that were elbowed out of use on account of the blurbs proffered by writers more sexy and glam than I am (but then why was I asked in the first place?). I have died a thousand deaths asking for blurbs for books of my own, then opened emails from dear friends saying, Please, ask me for a blurb. Then received the kindest blurb. Then stood in my office and looked all around—incapable of locating just the right words to express my gratitude.

I have been fazed by the giving and fazed by the taking, and I have been—equally—shamed.

Blurbs may be, as Donadio suggested, a kind of commerce, a means of exchange. But perhaps those who seek blurbs and those who write them might be helped, in this enterprise, by a shifted perspective. What if we began to view blurbs not as a branding or a boast, a quantifiable need, a checklist check, a ploy, but as a kind of offering to the writer during that particularly vulnerable, pre-launch time when the critics and the general public have not yet had their say. What if, in other words, we thought of the blurb as a means of returning the book to its maker, of yielding, to the author, that essential and unquantifiable sense that her work has been valued and seen, her story held in the mind of another, her words lifted from the page?

If we were to reposition blurbs in this way—as affirmations as opposed to marketing tools, as possibilities instead of prerequisites—wouldn’t that also shift the way we traffic in the thing? Wouldn’t we winnow the list of prospective blurbers to those whose readerly companionship we genuinely seek—because of who they are, which is different from the fame they are perceived to have achieved? Wouldn’t we turn down the noise on our chase? Wouldn’t we stop trying so hard to appease the marketing appointees? Wouldn’t we see each blurb as a gift and not a means? And wouldn’t we see each potential blurber not as an instrument or machine, but as a human being quietly engaged in a conversation that will have enduring meaning.

How Writing Your Synopsis Can Fix Your Book

Photo by cottonbro studio

Today’s post is by Allison K Williams (@GuerillaMemoir). Join her on Dec. 14 for the online class Second Draft: Your Path to a Powerful, Publishable Story.

Writers often dread writing a synopsis. After carefully composing scenes, fleshing out characters and establishing relationships, now we’re supposed to summarize the whole thing in under two pages? Plus, the stakes feel high. If a literary agent doesn’t love the synopsis, will your book ever reach publication?

But writing a synopsis should be done long before you’re ready to query agents. More than just a tool to sell your book, your synopsis is a roadmap to the next, stronger draft. After reaching the end of your manuscript for the first time—whether the process took 30 days of NaNoWriMo or several years of your life—sit down and write a synopsis.

Querying with a synopsis shows agents and publishers that your story hangs together. There’s a strong, intriguing beginning, an engaging middle, and a satisfying ending. The events make sense in the order they’re revealed. Effects have causes. Twists are genuinely surprising. Writing a synopsis for yourself after the first or second draft demonstrates the same elements—and reveals plot holes, unmotivated characters, and where the book gets (sorry!) boring. Then you can reverse-engineer from this simpler version of the book to fix those problems in the manuscript in your next draft.

Here’s a relatively pain-free way to write your synopsis while also identifying plot holes in your book, something I learned from Matt Stone and Trey Parker. You might not love the foul-mouthed humor of South Park and The Book of Mormon, but Stone and Parker are brilliant at story structure. Every scene is vital to the plot; every set-up pays off. In a visit to a film class at NYU’s Tisch School of the Arts, they tell the students to list the beats (the events) of their stories.

Trey Parker: …and if the words ‘and then’ belong between those beats, you’re [in trouble]. You’ve got something pretty boring. What should happen between every beat that you’ve written down, is either the word ‘therefore’ or ‘but’. So what I’m saying is that you come up with an idea, and it’s like ‘OK, this happens’ right? And then this happens.’ No, no, no. It should be ‘This happens, and therefore this happens. But this happens, therefore this happens.’

Literally we’ll sometimes write it out to make sure we’re doing it.

Matt Stone: This happened, and then this happened, and then this happens. That’s not a story. It’s ‘but’ ‘because’, ‘therefore’ that gives you the causation between each beat, and that’s a story.

Pull out your manuscript draft and list the major events. You don’t have to get into the weeds of individual conversations—stick to the key actions and choices.

Then try connecting each event to the next with a “But” “Therefore” “So” or “Because.” Is anything an “And then…” instead?

If a pair of events join with “and then…” your book is boring at that moment. If you’re writing a novel, figure out what the protagonist or antagonist needs to accomplish at that moment—if they need to react to something that just happened, can that reaction be an action or a choice instead of merely emotional impact? Could they initiate a new action?

Think about the difference between:

Anne Shirley is an orphan who goes to live with a new family. She finds out they might not want her after all, and then she tries to win them over. Also, she imagines a lot of stuff.

and

Anne Shirley can’t wait to meet her new family BUT they requested a boy orphan THEREFORE she must prove she’s loveable SO they’ll keep her. BUT she has a terrible temper THEREFORE when she’s teased about her hair she explodes…BUT she’s also very imaginative and can empathize with hurting and being hurt, THEREFORE her extravagant apologies win people over…

In a memoir, your connections may even jump through time.

My husband was an addict THEREFORE I went to Al-Anon to cope BUT I fell in love with another woman whose husband was also an addict. BECAUSE I wanted to stick out the marriage vows I gave her up. [AND THEN I recommitted to my marriage. AND THEN we fought about his addiction AND THEN we moved AND THEN we fought about money AND THEN we fought about the kids.] BUT ten years later she called me out of the blue BECAUSE she’d seen my husband’s obituary.

And you know what our imaginary memoirist just learned writing her synopsis? That Act Two of the memoir has more drama if the author cuts everything in brackets and opens with a phone call where two people pick their way through an emotional minefield and the reader finds out the husband (finally!) died when the Other Woman mentions it. After identifying that drama and tension in the synopsis, the writer can revise Act Two to open with the phone ringing instead the funeral of a guy the reader doesn’t like. Then the memoirist might examine the end of Act One, thinking, Hmmm, how can I leave the reader in suspense about whether or not he dies? Maybe the memoir has more tension if Act One ends with the hope of recommitting, instead of making the reader slog through another 10 years of failing marriage. If the opening scene of Act Two includes telling the Other Woman, “It didn’t get better,” then in four words the writer has done the work of forty boring pages of the same marital fight again and again.

As your final step in the But-Therefore-Because process, look back at any events in your book that didn’t make the list of important actions and choices. Make them earn their place. Why must this event be in the book? Does it duplicate the dramatic purpose of something on the list? Killing one’s darlings is much easier when you know they genuinely aren’t needed— and you’ll save precious writing hours by not bothering to revise events that aren’t needed in the book.

As writers, by focusing on cause and effect, we discover the basic structure of the book, just as an artist sketches in black and white before breaking out the paints. The simple lines of a sketch show where their proportions are off, or how many people can fit in a landscape before it looks cluttered. Problems are easier to find and fix on this simplified map.

Writing a synopsis from a first or second draft clearly demonstrates where your story shines and where it’s stuck. Find your twists and your turning points with a list. Make sure the biggest “But” “Because” and “Therefore” moments are big in the manuscript, too. And do it before wasting your writing time polishing scenes that are just “And Then.”

Note from Jane: If you enjoyed this post, please join us on Wednesday, Dec. 14 for the online class Second Draft: Your Path to a Powerful, Publishable Story.

What If You’re New to Writing and Don’t Know How to Fix Things?

Photo by Daniel Reche

Ask the Editor is a column for your questions about the editing process and editors themselves. It’s a place to bring your conundrums and dilemmas and mixed feelings, no matter how big or small. Want to be considered? Learn more and submit your question.

This month’s Ask the Editor is sponsored by The Shit No One Tells You About Writing Podcast. Step up your writing game and meet fellow writers with The Deep Dive Workshop, a 10-week series from the podcast hosts of The Shit No One Tells You About Writing. Each week you’ll hear from expert writers and editors, followed by workshops led by Bianca, Carly or CeCe.

Question

I’m a beginning writer. I’ve been focusing on it for two years, though I’ve always dreamed of being a writer. In some ways, I feel like I’ve grown, but mostly I get overwhelmed by all I have yet to learn.

I read blog posts and craft books, thinking the advice sounds great and I can’t wait to try it. When I get to my writing, I freeze because I don’t know how to execute it. Two things I’ve been hoping to improve this year are characters and developmental editing.

This is where I’ve been stuck. I read about what needs to be looked at developmentally, but I don’t know how to recognize what needs fixing in my first draft or how to fix it.

I read my writing and know it is not up to par. It feels flat and dull, but I don’t know why or how. I’ll try to start revising and become overwhelmed with fatigue. It’s easier to say the story is too flawed, not working, and set it aside than to fix it. It’s not getting me anywhere.

I think my ideas are simple and lack complexity. They often lack in motivation and stakes. I’m a literal thinker, so it’s hard for me to be wildly creative. A few times, I’ve been told my writing sounds young. It makes me wonder if I’d be better at YA, but I love lighthearted women’s fiction and rom-com/chick lit. It’s been brought to my attention my writing lacks character emotion and voice.

After a few poor attempts at novels and then novellas, I’ve been working on short stories and flash fiction. When revising, it’s easier for me to see the whole picture and it feels less overwhelming.

I took to heart Ray Bradbury’s quote about writing 52 short stories because you can’t write 52 bad stories in a row. I changed it a little in that I’m doing short stories and flash fiction. I have drafted 26 short stories and 26 flash fictions (and have edited some of them).

Now, I have to figure out what to do next. More of the same (maybe 52 of each)? Or something a little longer, like a novelette or novella?

Do you have any advice on how I can learn to see and fix my story-level problems? Is it something that improves with time, and maybe I’m expecting too much of myself?

—Beginning

Dear Beginning:

Thanks for a complex question that I think reflects challenges common to a lot of writers—at every level.

Before I address your main question, there is one blanket suggestion I’d like to offer that applies to many of the concerns you wrote about: Take it easy on yourself.

You’ve brought up several areas where you’re struggling, but one common thread that jumps out to me is feeling beleaguered by self-doubt and self-judgment.

These pitfalls are as common among authors as any I know of. Show me an author who doesn’t doubt her ability or her story, flounder, or feel discouraged, and I will show you a delicious gluten-free pizza; it doesn’t actually exist.

The shortcomings you may perceive in your story and your writing are normal, especially for early drafts. Stories grow, deepen, and develop in the revision process; it’s where they come fully alive.

Try not to judge your initial draft by the standards of a finished one or published book. Revision is a process—often a long one. I regularly do three edit passes in working with an author or a publisher, sometimes more. This is after the author has already no doubt done a good amount of revision on their own to get to the final draft they turned in.

Remember that you never have to show one word of your writing to a soul until you are dead happy with it. Writing is your own private playground, and thinking of it as such—instead of as an arduous obstacle course you have to attempt in full view of the world—can help free you up in both your writing and revision.

Now let’s get a little more specific.

Edit first, revise second

You mention feeling overwhelmed by revising your work: That’s also common. I call this Revision Mountain, and when you are standing in the foothills looking up at the damned thing, it’s daunting. Where to even start?

Many authors plunge right in at the beginning and start revising—but that skips the crucial step of actual editing, and that’s often where overwhelm begins. Before you can effectively address what may not be working in your story, you have to assess what you have on the page.

In other words, as you rightly point out: first you must find any issues, and only then can you begin to fix them.

That means reading your work with an objective eye and identifying specific areas that may not be working as well as they could. It can also be helpful to get outside input from objective readers—trusted beta readers, crit partners, and (eventually) professionals—who can reflect back to you what you have on the page versus what intentions you may be subconsciously filling in on your own reads.

Then you diagnose why each particular element isn’t working.

For example, if you feel that a character doesn’t ring true, first identify specific places in the manuscript where that strikes you. Even if your frustrated answer is “Everywhere!” just go one page, one exchange, one development at a time. What feels as if it’s missing or “off” to you? What exactly isn’t coming across well here?

Is momentum lagging, or do stakes feel low, for instance? Is that because we don’t see what your character wants, perhaps? Is it not clear what’s driving them to attain it? Are their actions and behaviors not consistent with that? Do we not know what’s going on inside of them, so we have perspective and see how they process what happens to them? Every “problem” in your story has a concrete cause—editing means diagnosing it.

Only then, using all the benefit of the work you’ve been doing to learn this craft, do you figure out how to address that issue and weave it into the narrative—in other words, revision.

First you find it; then you fix it.

Then you repeat that process area by area.

Work from the foundation up

One reason revision so often goes awry for authors is the temptation to focus first on perfecting the prose. But as I always say, that’s like decorating the house before it’s finished being built.

I advocate—and use in my own editing work—a three-level process:

Macroedits. These are the story’s main foundation: character, stakes, plot. I always start here; if these aren’t solid, the story won’t be either.Microedits. These are the essential elements that support the macroedit elements and make them maximally effective, like momentum, structure, suspense, tension, point of view, etc.Line edits. Fine-tuning the verbiage—have you conveyed the story in prose that’s lean, elegant, precise, and unique? This is the step many authors mistakenly start with (because it’s fun and sexy!) that often bypasses the core story elements.

Once you finish and feel you’ve plugged all the holes in the dam, you start over and do it again…and again…and again. I liken these repeated editing and revision passes to a master woodworker sanding his creation, running his hand over it pass after pass of the sander, feeling for ever finer imperfections, until it’s smooth as glass.

The process is simple, but the work of it can be anything but. And that’s common too. Editing and revision are most of the real work of writing. But one area at a time, step by step up Revision Mountain, you tighten, deepen, and hone your story.

(This extensive self-editing checklist offers specific questions to ask yourself that may be a useful guide.)

How to hone your editing and revision skills

You say that you are “literal,” not “wildly creative.” You may be glad to know that the chief skill that defines every successful author I have ever worked with isn’t their rampant creativity, but this diligent work in developing, deepening, clarifying, and fine-tuning those initial creative impulses. (In fact, I almost completely rewrote this letter after realizing my initial version didn’t effectively address your specific questions.)

Like writing, editing and revision are skills that take time to learn, and they develop only with practice—the way you are already doing with your flash fiction/short story writing and revising.

The other most effective way I know of is to analyze other authors’ work. I don’t just mean read it—I mean analyze it like an editor does, and reverse-engineer what makes it work. Amazingly, when you get into the habit of doing this, you will find these skills osmose into your artistic subconscious not just in your writing, but also in your editing and revision.

My favorite way to do this is to pick apart every single thing you read or watch—books, articles, TV shows, movies, hell, I often analyze commercials, songs, and ad slogans. What makes it effective—or not? Get granular—go back and reread or rewatch and notice where you react; then dissect how the author elicited that reaction in you.

Also, while finding a positive, constructive critique group can be helpful when you need objective feedback about your own writing, the real value of them lies less in the critique you receive than in the critique you give as you get practice with other people’s stories where you already have built-in objectivity in spotting what may not be working as effectively on the page as it could and why (finding and fixing; assessing and addressing).

You mention that two years in, you’re still learning. Thirty years into my editing career I feel the same way. In any complex, subjective pursuit like art you’ll always be learning.

And the more you learn, the more you see how much there is to learn—so ironically (and annoyingly), the better you get at writing, editing, and revising, often the worse you feel about your abilities.

“Mastering” (I put that in ironic quotes) this craft is a journey that never ends. Take time to appreciate how far you have already come. Two years—or a lifetime—is nothing when learning a skill as complex and challenging as creating fully realized worlds and people and orchestrating the infinite moving parts of story that bring something wholly yours into existence from your sheer imagination.

Take heart and keep going. You’re making more progress than you think.

—Tiffany Yates Martin

This month’s Ask the Editor is sponsored by The Shit No One Tells You About Writing Podcast. Step up your writing game and meet fellow writers with The Deep Dive Workshop, a 10-week series from the podcast hosts of The Shit No One Tells You About Writing. Each week you’ll hear from expert writers and editors, followed by workshops led by Bianca, Carly or CeCe.

Build Your Writing Self-Efficacy

Photo by Kevin Luke on Unsplash

Today’s post is by writer, editor and book coach Ariel Curry (@arielkcurry).

Last year, Albert Bandura, a renowned psychologist and giant in the field of education, passed away in his 90s. Bandura is best known for his pioneering work around the idea of self-efficacy—a concept that impacts you everyday and has powerful potential for your writing life as well.

Whether you realize it or not, your self-efficacy guides nearly everything you do. It’s why you feel completely confident as you stroll to the washing machine to do a load of laundry: because you’ve done it before, you know how it works, and you have total faith in your own ability to get the job done well. It’s what causes you to shy away from attempting some of the Olympic gymnasts’ routines in your backyard: because you (most likely!) don’t have the years of experience, the skills, and the proof from past success that you can accomplish them.

So what is self-efficacy?

Self-efficacy is the degree to which you believe you can execute actions to control certain outcomes. In my laundry example above, you likely feel high self-efficacy because someone taught you and you’ve done it successfully many times. You believe in your own ability to successfully perform the actions needed to attain the desired result: a clean load of laundry. And on the other hand, as with the gymnastics, having low self-efficacy stops us from trying something we’re uncomfortable with, or even might expect negative results from (like a broken neck!). Bandura writes, “If people believe they have no power to produce results, they will not attempt to make things happen.”

Self-efficacy has a tremendous impact on our motivation to try something new. Even if you’ve never written a book, you might still have high self-efficacy around doing it if you have the right preparation, and you won’t encounter as much resistance to making it happen. It’s the essence of the perhaps cliché idea: “If you think you can, you can!”

Perhaps you’ve felt overwhelmed when asked to do something new at work, and you dithered a bit trying to figure out where to get started. Maybe you’ve felt stymied by your lack of knowledge about how to write a book proposal, and it’s stopped you from even trying. Contrast that to how you feel when asked to do something similar to what you’ve done successfully before. Trying a new bread recipe, when you’ve been baking sourdough for the last 18 months. Writing a limerick when you’ve been writing haiku. You’re likely not too deterred by the fact you’ve never done it before; you know you’ve got the basic skills and can figure it out.

Does self-efficacy really work?

The short answer is yes—increasing your self-efficacy can really help you learn and successfully accomplish more. In a summary of 8 meta-analyses on self-efficacy, education researcher Dr. John Hattie found that self-efficacy has a .71 effect size of students’ learning. If .4 is the average effect you would get just from living, then .71 means your learning is increased quite a bit when you add self-efficacy to the mix.

But does that mean we should go around believing we can do absolutely anything? No. I’m not recommending that you try out those gymnastic routines with the addition of a positive attitude. Self-efficacy isn’t blind belief; like I hinted above, it’s a belief born out of evidence, training, observation, and disposition.

How to increase your writing self-efficacy

Bandura’s work is so powerful because he showed that self-efficacy can be taught and developed. He wrote that there are four primary ways to increase your self-efficacy around a skill.

1. Finding small wins (mastery experiences)

The most powerful way to start building your confidence is to experience small writing wins—or mastery experiences. These small wins might look like meeting your word count goal, posting a blog, getting positive feedback on a writing sample, finishing a chapter or article, or perhaps even writing your manuscript. Each small win builds on the last, so that as you gain confidence and momentum, your wins get bigger and bigger.

2. Seeing others like you succeed (vicarious experiences)

If you’ve never written a book before, it doesn’t make sense to compare yourself to John Green or J.K. Rowling or Glennon Doyle. Instead, you should look for models who are in a similar situation as you—they have a similar platform (even if it’s none!), similar writing experience, and a similar drive to write, and they’re having some success. Seeing these people who are just like us succeed sends the message that if they can do it, we can do it, too.

3. Receiving authentic encouragement from people you trust (social persuasion)

Bandura’s research shows how powerful honest encouragement (what he called verbal persuasion) from someone credible and trustworthy could be in building up our self-efficacy. But it can’t just be blind praise. This encouragement must be:

From someone credible whom you respectTailored and specific to youRealistic (they can’t promise you the moon!)GenuineConsistent4. Staying calm and reducing stress around the task (affective states)

Bandura writes that both our physical state and our mental/emotional state (he calls it our “affective states”) affect our efficacy beliefs. If we’re sore, winded, exhausted, or in pain, we probably won’t have as much confidence in our ability to run 10 miles as we would if we were feeling great and had high energy levels. Likewise, if we’re frightened, angry, grieving, or depressed, we may not “feel like” writing, because we judge our own abilities as less than optimal in that emotional state. Research shows some ways we can take care of ourselves physically and emotionally to increase our self-efficacy:

SleepingWalkingHikingWorking outDrinking lots of waterRegulating our sugarJournalingMeditatingSetting boundaries

I believe that we can use all of these powerful methods for improving our writing lives and accomplishing our writing goals. Self-efficacy is one of the greatest keys to unlocking our writing power.

Unlock Better Reach: Bridge the Gap Between Online and Offline Activities

Photo by Rainier Ridao on Unsplash

Today’s post is an excerpt adapted from Reach: Create the Biggest Possible Audience for Your Message, Book, or Cause by Becky Robinson (@beckyrbnsn).

In my work with clients over the years, I’ve identified a significant gap that even very successful people must overcome to create reach. It’s the difference between how a person shows up online and how they show up offline.

Most people naturally invest more time, energy, and resources in their offline lives. However, an exclusive focus on offline life will almost always limit reach.

The only way to create the biggest reach possible for your work is to grow your contributions online and offline simultaneously. Whatever you do, do it out loud, sharing the story of your work publicly so people can learn and benefit from your work even if they don’t know you offline. Those who are on a journey with the goal of creating more impact need to maximize both their offline contributions and their online presence over time to reach more people. They need to share the value of their work both online and offline.

During my twelve years of working with people to increase the reach of their messages, I’ve identified four levels of expertise related to creating an online presence. Each circle includes a globe icon (representing offline influence) and a computer screen icon (representing online influence).

Someone who has neither online nor offline influence is a beginner. Note that in the beginner circle, both the globe icon and the computer screen icon are marked with an X, which indicates that both online and offline influence are absent.

Someone who has influence online but not offline is a master of branding. In this circle, the globe icon is marked with an X, indicating that people in this category do not have offline influence.

Someone who has offline influence that is not fully represented online is a traditional thought leader. In this circle, the icon for online influence is marked with an X.

The fourth circle depicts true reach experts, the people who show up online in the same powerful way that they show up in real life. People in this group are positioned to create the biggest possible audience and lasting impact for their work.

If you are at the start of your career or at the start of creating traction for an idea, message, book, or cause, you likely are in the category of beginner. You could also call yourself a beginning beginner. You have neither recognition offline nor impact online…yet. You’re figuring out your brand position in life or figuring out your career journey. Or you’ve been in a career and you’re making a switch but have little experience related to your aspirations.

There’s no shame in being here. Instead of being overwhelmed about all that lies ahead, be inspired by the vision of what you can accomplish. There’s nowhere to go but up. Patience will be helpful on this journey, since starting to grow influence online is like planting a tree; it may be years before you enjoy the shade.

Everyone who is starting something new is in this group. In 2009, when I joined Facebook for the first time, I was in this category. I had stepped out of a job in a nonprofit organization when I had my first child in 2001. I didn’t have a specific career vision and I didn’t have any expertise to add to a topic or to a vision of where I could contribute. Even though I was approaching age 40, it would not have been a stretch to call me a beginning beginner.

It can be humbling to be in this place. After I started to take some freelance writing gigs, one of my clients approached me and asked me to write a leadership blog in support of the university’s online leadership degree programs. He framed the request like this: “How would you feel about writing a blog about a topic you know nothing about?” The topic? Leadership.

I remember feeling annoyed. I told my client about my role as president of our condo association, the preschool co-op I had started, and the church I had partnered with my husband to start. “I know about leadership,” I told him. But I really didn’t. I had to start at the beginning. I had neither expertise to offer in the real world nor anything meaningful to say online. I had to work to create both at the same time.

Discover your value

After I entered online spaces in 2009, I acquired more learning about leadership by teaching one semester of undergraduate courses in leadership for an online program. This short stint gave me some additional credibility, but only a thin veneer.

Along the way, I began experimenting with and learning about social media marketing. In my freelance work for the university, I started and grew a Twitter account, then started managing Facebook pages. At the time, we were all learning about social media together and I learned a lot by exploration and experimentation. Increasing my expertise about social media proved to be much easier than increasing my learning about leadership. I had so much catching up to do about being a leader.

When I started my own blog in 2010, my path as a digital marketing professional was still not yet clear. I envisioned writing about several topics: leadership, relational connections, and social media. I had to experiment with topics in my online writing and posting until I had enough experience to see the path forward. I discovered along the way what topics excited me, what topics interested the people who read my work, and where I could make my most meaningful contribution, including how I could carve out a profitable and purposeful business.

Newcomers in online spaces can experiment with content first. They can learn from experience to clarify and hone in on how they can best contribute value.

Add consistency

It will be impossible to create significance offline or online without consistency. Once you’ve identified how you will bring value, start contributing it consistently. So many people who start to build an online presence give up before they have a chance to break through to widespread success.

Settle in

As you are getting started, patience is imperative. Without patience, you will not sustain your contributions long enough to create reach.

Humility at the start may give you some early momentum. If you are just getting started, own it. Tell people “I’m new here. I’m just getting started.”

When I started blogging about leadership in 2009, I spent a lot of time seeking out other leadership bloggers. Early on, I developed a friendship with several bloggers who’d been on the scene longer than me. I soon discovered that most of them had significantly more expertise than I did that added credibility to their contributions on leadership. I asked a lot of questions. I listened to and acted on their advice.

While I was establishing my brand, I had to ask for help—often. I remember an early win in May 2009. The blog I wrote at the time had been going for a few months. So I decided to reach out to Dan McCarthy, blogger at Great Leadership by Dan, to ask him to host a guest article. When he responded favorably, I danced and shrieked around my house. I had no idea how these humble beginnings would lead to my discovery of a powerful new career.

When you are just getting started and can ask for help and humbly learn from others, you can fuel ongoing collaborative relationships. People will want to be helpful and will appreciate the opportunity to guide your journey. Starting strong will increase your chances of sticking around long enough to make an impact.

Be generous

One of the benefits of being a beginning beginner is that you are probably showing up in online spaces without an urgent agenda apart from learning and contributing. Because of this, you may have more time, energy, and willingness to promote others and their work. As a newcomer to online conversations on a certain topic, you can attract attention by amplifying the work and ideas of other people.

Amazon • Bookshop

In this beginning stage and throughout your journey, be as generous as you can. Link to other people’s work, quote other people, participate in promoting others’ books or causes, write reviews of people’s books. If you’ve learned from someone, acknowledge their contribution. If you admire someone, shout it out.

Whether you are a beginning beginner as I was in 2009 or a traditional thought leader with decades of contributions offline, you will create the biggest audience and most lasting impact with your work if you choose to close the gap between who you are offline and who you are online by showing up with consistent value on your core topics.

An Argument for Setting Aside Arc in Story Development

Today’s post is by author Adele Annesi (@WordforWords).

Sound crazy? Not really.

I was reading the novel Hold the Dark by Guggenheim recipient and acclaimed author William Giraldi in preparation for his novel-writing workshop at the Vermont College of Fine Arts Postgraduate Writers Conference. In researching the Netflix adaptation, I saw an interview with the film’s director, screenwriter and main cast on how they prepared for their respective roles. When asked how he prepared for his role as Vernon Slone, actor Alexander Skarsgård said his preparation did not include a traditional approach to character arc: “I tried to avoid an arc … the approach was slightly different to how I normally work … I saw [the character] almost as … [existing] in a vacuum…”

As a long-form fiction instructor and novelist, I initially bristled at not taking a usual approach to character arc. But Skarsgård’s rationale sparked ideas about the potential advantages of a similar approach to writing fiction.

What we talk about when we talk about arc in character and plot development are the people in the story and how they evolve and/or devolve. We consider how these realities will track throughout the events of the story and how one character’s trajectory will affect and be affected by the other characters and the story itself.

One reason not to take a traditional approach to character arc is when the character isn’t traditional. Another is when a character isn’t all that influenced by others in the story or what’s happening, even when the circumstances are dire and the consequences of the character’s choices are costly. Other reasons include:

Flat characters: Contrary to how they sound, flat characters can be complex and exhibit a full range of emotions and responses. But they don’t usually change much or at all from the start of a story to its conclusion. One example is Mr. Darcy, in Jane Austen’s Pride and Prejudice. Yet, flat characters can be essential to a story, for example, when the other characters (and reader or writer) rely on that person not to change.Discovery: Seasoned and adventuresome writers alike can expand their vision and craft by not rigidly blocking out who a character is or not using arc to define or direct the character.Creative freedom: Dispensing with rising action, pinnacle and falling action for character and plot can free the writer’s spontaneity, bring originality to a work, and avoid superficiality in characters and story.

While there are good reasons to opt out of a traditional arc in plot and story, sometimes a more traditional approach works best:

Order: A more traditional arc for a character or plot can offer stability for emerging writers and early drafts. This doesn’t mean a character or story can’t change. It just means the project would benefit from a more systematic approach to depicting characters or storyline, like when a character, plot or both are complex, and exploration of theme is key to the work.Structure: If a story includes varied plot points and characters, the overall work could benefit from a traditional arc for at least one of the characters and/or aspect of the plot, as this will better support the structure of the work as a whole.

While the use of a traditional character or story arc remains a valuable tool in the writer’s toolkit, there is something to be said for dispensing with tradition, whether in character development, story creation or both.

There is also value in listening to what our characters tell us about themselves and the story, even when what they say may be hard to hear. Approaching a work of fiction as an organic, ongoing dialogue between writer, characters and story can free writers to both explore and discover—one of the best perks of creativity and art.