Editor's Notes #13: My MS Doesn't Need That Much Red Ink

There's nothing like the feeling of writing. Letting out the creativity that's in your brain, putting it on paper (or the virtual paper of a Word doc) and honing it to perfection. Scenes are written, critiqued, and rewritten. Verbs are made stronger. Words are added to engage all the senses. You have a masterpiece on your hands.

With the confidence that can only come from naiveté, you hand it over to an editor for "a quick proof."

Sucker.

When I talk to people before doing an evaluation, I've found most of them believe their manuscripts only need a light edit, similar to the "quick once-over." I am sorry to report that most manuscripts need more than a passing glance. Indeed, copy editors can't afford to gloss over the manuscripts entrusted to their care. If we do our jobs properly, we read every word, multiple times.

The funny thing about reading each word is that it enables mistakes to be found. Sometimes there are a lot of them, and sometimes only a few, but even the most careful writer makes mistakes. It's just the way it goes.

In one of life's ironies, the writers who think they need the most help are rarely those who have the most errors in their manuscripts. Even so, the typical copy edit looks worse than it is, with all that red ink standing out so starkly against the black and white.

You'll just have to trust me when I say copy editors—well, most of them, anyway—don't take sadistic pleasure in marking up manuscripts. I know I don't. There's a satisfaction that comes from knowing I'm helping someone's work to look its best, but when there are a lot of corrections to be made, my feelings run more toward the nervous side. Will the author think I'm taking liberties that aren't mine to take? Will he resent my advice? Will she wonder if I really know what I'm talking about? Am I being too bossy?

Those who have worked with me know I'm a big fan of margin notes. I like to use the margin as an easy means of communication between me and the author. I can write things as I think of them, where they apply, so I don't have to save it all for an email summary. Sometimes I'll explain why I've changed something that may not have seemed incorrect; other times, I'll explain an odd rule, like the "sometimes hyphenated, sometimes not" words; other times I just want to show my appreciation for a nicely written passage or a funny exchange between characters.

When all is said and done, I hope the writer recognizes that I've made suggestions that will improve the manuscript. Seeing "all that red ink" may come as a shock, but as long as the author knows I have his or her best interests in mind, the red is just a little ol' lipstick kiss at the end of a soon-to-be-great manuscript.

Editor's Notes #12: How Long Should I Wait?

I'm often dismayed to hear about authors who submit a manuscript to a copy editor and then wait for months for the edits to be completed. And yet I hear the same story again and again, which leads me to believe it must be a fairly common practice.

How long is too long? At what point should an author say, "Either finish it or give me a complete refund and I'll take my business elsewhere"?

Well, I suppose it's tough to make a one-size-fits-all statement when it comes to copy editing.  After all, publishing houses can take six months or more to edit an average-length manuscript. But I'm talking about the typical freelance copy editor, not a large publishing house—someone like me, who has a daytime job and edits in the evenings at home. 

A typical copy edit for me involves a first-round line edit and a second-round copy edit. The first round is the most time-consuming, since it involves creating a style sheet which lists character names, places, common misspellings, and other things that are unique to that author. The good thing about working with authors who write series is that most of the characters stay the same—unless you're working with G.R.R. Martin, who, in the words of my husband, "writes books with newly introduced characters who somehow manage to die thrice per novel."

Since I'm not working with Mr. Martin, my style sheet time investment pays off with subsequent books in a series, since it only needs tweaking.

After that, the rest of the edit involves the usual things: grammar, punctuation, sentence structure, the Dreaded Adverb, dialogue tags and the like. For an average edit on an average-length manuscript (55-80k words), the first round might take me about two weeks or so. Once it goes back to the author for approval & changes and comes back to me for the final proof, I usually have it in my hands again for approximately a week. That's it, unless it's a busy season when I can't edit as many days in a week.

If the book is extra long, or if the edits are heavier, add about a week to that total. And toss in a couple of progress emails in the middle of it, while you're at it—I don't believe an author should have to chase down his or her editor to see how things are going. If a week goes by, I feel I should contact the author to give an update on how things are going and where I am in the manuscript. It may only be seven days on the calendar, but I imagine it feels a lot longer to an author who has sent off months, sometimes years, of hard work to someone who may be a stranger.

I've heard (from authors I know personally) about editors who can't be reached after months, or who make excuse after excuse about why they're not done with the work. I can understand (as do the authors I've spoken with) about family issues or unexpected emergency-type things, but when someone says they "didn't start yet" after having the manuscript for a month, then goes on vacation without notifying the author they'll be gone—and still not working on it—and then makes the excuse that they just "can't get into the story," then you're getting the runaround. Copy editors don't need to get into the story. That's the job for content editors and beta readers. Copy editors look for errors. The story's enjoyability is a plus, but not a determining factor for edits.

I try to only work on one project at a time so I can focus on one story with one set of characters. For the way I work, that seems to be the most time-efficient, too. I can multitask with many household things, and I can even pat my head while rubbing my belly—what can I say? It's a gift—but when I need to concentrate, I do only one thing.

Don't ever be afraid to ask your editor how long a job should take. The time may not be set in stone, but having an estimate not only gives you a goal date, but it keeps your editor accountable to you and respectful of your time.

S = Save Up Your Money and Don't Skip the Final Edits

If you’ve invested in a copy editor, great! Your manuscript will benefit. If your copy editor does (as I do) copy edits and final proof, don’t skip that final step. It’s worth the small amount of money for the peace of mind it will bring.

The temptation might gnaw at you to skip the final proof. After all, it might save you those extra dollars, and it’s probably not needed, right? Well . . . it might and it might not.

The final proof ensures that, as far as is humanly possible, nothing was missed that should have been corrected. Whether it’s as insignificant as an extra space between words or as important as a character’s name change, a misspelling of a word, or a missing apostrophe, that final run-through is essential. The manuscript should be in good shape, unless something completely catastrophic happened. I don't know what goes on once the first round of edits leaves my hands: maybe the author didn't know how to approve the changes, maybe he only looked at the big red marks and not the small ones, or maybe she forgot to save the file, and none of the changes were actually made. This takes care of the "did I turn off the oven before leaving the house?" moment in the publishing world.

I believe I have a good eye for detail, but I’m often surprised at the number of “how did I miss that?” moments I have during the final proof of a book. There aren’t a huge lot of them, but even one or two per chapter makes me glad for one last opportunity to get it right.

E = Editing Comes in Many Forms

Someone who's “looking for an editor” is most likely referring to the need for a copyeditor. There are, however, a few types of editors to choose from, and it’s best to know what you’re looking for if you want to get your publishing budget set up accurately.

Developmental editors work with you from the very beginning. If you have a concept or a great story idea but aren’t sure how to execute it, a developmental editor can help you organize your thoughts, give suggestions to aid your research, and help you get a handle on the big picture. They’ll spot when your writing isn’t clear, your characters are weak, when your plot has holes, and when timelines don’t add up properly.

Line editors/copyeditors come into play when the text is nearly final—or as final as an author can get it on his own. This type carefully reads each sentence, correcting structure, typos, spelling, punctuation, word usage, and grammar. They’ll alert you to stilted dialogue and inconsistent character details.

Proofreaders take the final look at your project. They ensure all the copyeditor’s changes were implemented, and fix any typos that may have been missed during the initial copyedit.

Each type of editing comes with its own price structure, so it’s best to know what you need before rushing right out there. Many authors think they only need a "light proof," but actually need a developmental editor for a manuscript that’s not yet ready for even the copyeditor. Know your strengths, but also recognize your weaknesses and set your budget accordingly.