One of the things that I realized was never taught in any of my creative writing courses in college or even discussed a lot in most of the writing groups I’ve been in is exactly what it’s like to work with a professional editor. So, since I have been on both sides of that experience, I thought it might be helpful to explain it. If you’re not a writer, don’t flee from this blog post. You might enjoy the behind the scenes look at how things work more than you’d think!
Before I get too much into the experience end of things, though, I want to talk about what editors actually do. It’s both more and less than many people assume. The media loves to confuse people as to exactly what we do, too, which doesn’t help. Sometimes we’re portrayed as nagging folks chasing after authors for chapters from publishing companies while howling about deadlines (that doesn’t happen… too often). Other times, we’re portrayed as curmudgeons who are just roadblocks to authors having successful careers.
In reality, what editors do varies depending on the type of edits we’re doing, what the author needs from us, and what we’re being paid for. A lot of authors assume that they can just dump a disasterpiece on our desk and we’ll fix it. While many of us certainly can fix such a thing, the amount of money that is going to cost the author (or publisher, if this is a trad. situation) is pretty steep. So the idea of “grammar is the editor’s problem” doesn’t quite work out in the real world. And while I will certainly admit to using the content whacking stick on my authors (Joe, I’m looking at you; I hope you can feel it through the screen), I don’t usually chase after them tearfully, begging them to write their books.
Maybe that’s a thing for bigger publishers. I don’t know. It’s definitely not a thing for indies, though.
So what do editors do?
At its core, editors are combination writing teacher, cheerleader, and coach. We make sure books are ready for public consumption and generally do our best to make sure authors don’t end up sticking their feet in their mouths. I say do our best because if we’re contracting for an author directly and not a publisher, we don’t get the final say on what goes out the door.
The four types of editing are (in order): developmental, substantive, copy, and proofreading. Developmental looks at broad strokes (plot holes, characterization, tone, story structure); substantive focuses down on making the prose sing (word choice, sentence structure, author voice); copy scrutinizes punctuation and grammar; and proofreading looks at formatting and catches any last minute errors after the book has been formatted for print.
Now that all the technical stuff is out of the way, what’s it like? Well, since my editor is also a close friend of mine from college, it’s pretty comfortable. My editor, Mel, and I have been working together as editors and friends for almost as long as I’ve been editing. She and I met in creative writing courses in college, and we kept touch after school. Reading one another’s work is pretty natural for us. Which is a huge help, since I know for sure Mel has my best interests at heart, and she knows my writing and knows me as a person. So she is pretty good at making sure my feet stay clear of my mouth entirely. Which is good because, flexible as I am, they sometimes end up there.
The way it works is I’ll write a book, do several rounds of self-editing (read: staring at it in Microsoft Word while questioning my life choices for about ten hours a day for a few weeks), and send it to my beta readers. I have a couple of those. An beta reader is someone who sees the book before editing really starts. They’re folks who review it for major errors and tone before I send it over to Mel so I can send her the most polished version possible. The aforementioned Joe is one of my beta readers, along with my dear friend Leslie, and my husband (with whom I am writing this book series). Those folks read the story, give me notes, and then I do a whole other round to incorporate their changes (or hurl them into the sun while grumbling into a glass of wine that I don’t need no stinkin’ changes).
Once all of that is finished, I click my heels three times while reciting Mel’s name in a mirror. Or, you know, send her an email. I let her know I’ve got my next book for her and attach it. Mel then goes through it and sends it back with tracked changes and comments in the margins. The comments are usually focused on the project, but sometimes she and I will joke back and forth about things in the series. The tone is light and companionable — benefits of us having been friends for a decade and a half.
Typically, since I am publishing these through my company, Insomnia Publishing, we go through a few rounds of changes and back and forth before it’s finished. She doesn’t ask for major changes, and typically my edits are focused on making sure I don’t reuse a word too many times in close proximity, have minor continuity errors, or forget to describe things. Because I really do, do that. I sometimes forget the reader isn’t in my head with me and will neglect to explain something important.
Once that’s all finished, I take the edited version and start typesetting. After typesetting is done, she and I glance through it to make sure I didn’t do anything embarrassing like format the chapter headers in more than one font or miss scene break characters or what have you. Because I’d never do that. Ever. Nope, not me.
Now, on the other side of the coin, as an editor, I’ve had to do more intensive edits than I normally need. And I don’t always have the benefit of being friends with someone for fifteen years when I do them. While I do my best to keep my tone conversational, light, and warm, I generally refrain from making horrible puns in the comments. Generally. Some authors with whom I work regularly get that side of me, but most of you dodge that bullet.
In all honesty, working with an editor is a little like letting a professional house cleaner into your house. It can feel like they’re going to judge you if you don’t know them, but if you hire someone who is good at their job, your house is going to look fantastic when they’re done. It may feel a little embarrassing at first, but the end result is worth the discomfort.
