But Why Does Editing Cost So Much?

Photo source: Skitterphoto via Pexels

As an Amazon Associate, I earn from qualifying purchases.

If I had a quarter for every time someone expected me to edit their work for free ("have fun with it" was my all-time favorite) or questioned the project's cost, I'd be . . . maybe not rich, but I'd probably have enough to cover a project.

Whenever I hear someone complain about the cost of things, I mentally go through a few scenarios. First, I try to find out the specific item and the dollar amount that's being discussed, and then I attempt to reason out what is being provided for the cost.

BUT WHY: THE VALUE
In some cases, I want to know what it's made of (is this desk pressboard or solid wood?) before making a determination of value. Is $100 reasonable for a high-quality piece of stainless steel cookware because I'll only buy it once in my lifetime, rather than replace a cheaper type every few years because it wears out or cooks unevenly? (Spoiler alert: this is a no-brainer for me. I'm a firm believer in good cookware.)

BECAUSE: THE VALUE
A well-edited manuscript has greater value to the reader than an unedited (or poorly edited) one. A reader doesn't want to slog through sentences that need a second look to make sense . . . or typos, bad grammar, and so much repetition that the story becomes tedious. Well-written books are cherished and reread, given as gifts, and recommended to others.

BUT WHY: THE TIME INVOLVED
If a service is being performed, I need to decide what's more valuable to me: the time that's freed up by having someone else do the task, or the money I'd save by doing it myself. It may well be worth paying someone to come to my home to vacuum, dust, and mop once every week or two if I'm extremely busy and the house is falling apart because we're all going different directions at once. On the other hand, if I'm home all day, am able-bodied, and don't have small children around, it might be difficult to justify that expense when I have the time and good health to take care of things myself.

BECAUSE: THE TIME INVOLVED
Editing an average manuscript for a novel can take me about 40 hours or more. If the edit is a heavier one, that number can easily double. I've logged in over 70 hours on just a first round of heavy edits before. If a book edit is going to take weeks of my time, then it needs to compensate for weeks of income because it's time I can't use to schedule anything else. This is why it's always a good idea to get your manuscript in the best shape possible before sending it off to an editor. A more polished manuscript means the editor can often work faster, which usually means a lower cost to you. It's fine to not worry about it and "let the editor catch that," but that will directly affect the price.

BUT WHY: THE SKILL/EXPERTISE
Face it: there is no possible way for a person to exhibit a professional level of skill in every area of life. Just ask anyone who's ever done a major home renovation. There's a reason that contractors hire out the specialty things like drywall finishing, plumbing, electrical wiring, and more. I may be able to change an outlet, but it doesn't mean I'm capable or licensed to rewire my whole house. I can create decent enough images for the editing quotes I post weekly on Instagram or Twitter, but I hired a graphic designer to create the branding for my business because it was important for my logo to not look like a DIY project.

BECAUSE: THE SKILL/EXPERTISE
There's a great quote I love by Amy Einsohn, author of The Copyeditor's Handbook:

In many ways, being a copyeditor is like sitting for an English exam that never ends: at any moment, your knowledge of spelling, grammar, punctuation, usage, syntax, and diction is being tested.

You can love to read and not know all the rules. You can get irked by other people's grammar mistakes and still not catch the ones you make. You can be a writer and still have to look up some of the usage and trends of our ever-changing language. You wouldn't want someone who made a birdhouse once to be the person you hire to put an addition on to your home. Let the professionals do what they're best at; we love what we do and will take care of things you didn't even know were in need of attention.

I'll leave you with a direct quote from an editor I know, because I've also been hired for those re-edits she mentions.

My own thoughts when someone says they can "find someone else to do it for only $200" usually run along the lines of "Yes, you can. A lot of my work has come from re-editing those $200 jobs, so I know those kinds of prices can be found."

Respect the value. Respect the time spent. And respect the expertise. You won't regret it. 

Editor's Notes #44: How to Improve the Indie Author Reputation

What do you think of when you hear the words "self-published"?

Are your first thoughts positive or negative? Are you a staunch supporter of indies, or do you stubbornly hold to the "traditionally published only" standard and turn your nose up even at smaller presses?

There was a time, not so long ago, that I swore I worked with the only indie authors who actually cared about their work. The self-publishing bandwagon had driven through town and was full to bursting with writers who thought they could finally make it big with the next bestseller—with little to no work involved, of course. All those publishers who'd said a polite "no, thank you" to them were obviously wrong, and they were going to prove it by self-publishing and striking it rich as a result.

The authors whose manuscripts I worked on took a lot of pride in their work, making sure their drafts were revised, revised, and revised again. They agonized over each word, and were not hesitant about hiring a professional editor, typesetter, and cover artist to make sure their books were on par with anything you'd find on the shelves at Barnes and Noble.

Unfortunately, they were in the minority.

So many writers put out so many unedited, badly formatted books with homemade MS Paint covers that the good books were lost in the sludge, and their work was, as the saying goes, painted with the same brush, resulting in the words "self-published" becoming a term of derision.

Slowly, the tide has turned, but it has taken years of perseverance on the part of determined authors to change the public's perception of self-published authors—now known as indies.

Perhaps the biggest change has come with the realization that there are some really great authors out there who have nothing to do with the Big 5 publishers. Sometimes the simplest explanations escape us for a while, but eventually we catch on. The truth is that there are some garbage authors who get published and some terrific authors who don't. The luck of the draw . . . an agent who's having a bad day . . . an acquisitions editor who may have loved your manuscript but knows their company can't guarantee enough sales of it because it's a bit out of the box . . . someone who saw your manuscript come across their desk but couldn't deal with looking at one more werewolf book . . . all those things may contribute to you getting the "nope" letter.

As more of the higher-quality writers persevere and self-publish, readers are gradually beginning to trust them. Many readers are even surprised to find that some have even turned down publishers in favor of self-publishing because they want to retain control over their final product.

Let's face it: the odds are slim for a new author to break through the Big 5. If you look around, there aren't too many new voices out there in that elite group. The odds are even slimmer that a new author will get such a killer deal that they'll become The Next Big Name.

BUT. And there's always a but, isn't there?

When indie authors, as a collective or as individuals, continue to strive for excellence—learning their craft, polishing their words, and putting out the good stuff—they'll gradually change people's perception of what self-publishing is all about, and what it's not. Those who are willing to raise the bar and work for it will continue to rise in the industry while those who continue to publish the equivalent of a first draft will eventually find themselves without readers.

As the baseline for quality goes higher, readers will tolerate less of the dross. Balance will be restored to the force, dogs and cats will live in peace together once again, and "indie published" will be seen as an opportunity to read something unique and wonderful.

"Sticker Shock" and the Cost of Edits

Put a group of editors and authors together on any online forum, and not only will you get five helpful suggestions for every three people involved, you'll get a large number of opinions on editing, what it means, and of course the dreaded C-O-S-T.

I recently joined a group called Ask A Book Editor, and have enjoyed the interactions and information exchange. Self-promotion is strictly forbidden, so it's simple Q&A with authors and other editors. Someone recently asked about free evaluations, cost per hour v. cost per word, and costs in general.

After participating in a lively discussion of "if you charge X, you're not charging enough," I thought I'd check out the Excel file that lists all the editors who are part of the site so I could explore some of these people and their pricing structure—just to see where I landed on the spectrum.

And . . . wow. I'm a cheap date.

I knew from talking with authors I've worked with that I charge about half of what many freelancers do. In fact, when I started working with Raymond Esposito, he said he'd paid exactly twice as much with another editing house before working with me—and I ended up re-editing the two books that other business had worked on. But what an eye-opener to see what some of these people rake in! My cost per word is, at best, half of that charged by others . . . but in the majority of situations I found that these people were charging three times what I do, sometimes with an hourly rate added on. One editor quoted rates "starting at .018 per word plus $45/hour," which sounded outlandish to me. And yet, these people are all working steadily.

Funny thing: there were those who were almost pricing snobs. Their opinion was that editors who charged x amount (actually, what I charge, though I was a little embarrassed to admit it to them) were either incompetent or trying to undercut the competition. I am neither. I like to think of myself as realistic with what the average indie author can afford and is willing to spend. I've given what I think is a reasonable estimate after a free evaluation, complete with discount, and have had people say, "Oh, I had no idea it would cost that much, to be honest."

What do I say to that? "Um, did you look at anyone's prices prior to contacting them directly?" comes to mind, even if it sounds incredibly snarky. Because if it were me, and I looked at someone's site to get their contact information, I would check out the pricing, calculate what my particular MS would cost, and then shop around to come up with three to five editors of varying rates for evaluation. The cheapest estimate is not always the lowest quality; nor does a higher rate guarantee better quality. In general terms, these things may hold truth, but the work itself needs to be considered.

In another online group, an author was looking for an editor, and many people in the group mentioned Reedsy. One author said it was "expensive but worth it" and when asked about cost, she mentioned about $2,000 for a typical-length novel. I can understand that for developmental editing, but for copy editing & proofreading (the type she was quoting), I can tell you that most indie authors can not afford that—nor will they pay it. They'll either go cheap and hope for the best, or they'll publish without professional edits and will continue to promote the stereotype of self-pubs putting out subpar work. This is why I offer more affordable pricing with options. I hate the idea that talented work is out there, unedited. In all other aspects of life, we manage to find the money and time for things that are important to us—and yet when it comes to editing a novel into which you've put your time, sweat, imagination, and future writing reputation, there's an attitude of "It's more than I want to pay, so it's okay to go without this step."

I can't compete with Reedsy, and thankfully I don't have to. The authors I've worked with are determined to put forth the best product they possibly can, and I help them to do so. Is a big name like Reedsy worth it? I don't know, since I'd have to compare their work side by side to my own. I do know the editors I've spoken with (who have been approached by Reedsy) say they prefer to work as freelancers because Reedsy doesn't pay well. One guy posted a status update last night, saying, "That time when you took a low-paying job with a big publishing house, hoping it would lead to bigger, better jobs . . . and six months later, I got another from them, at half the rate they paid last time. Never again. I much prefer working with the author directly."

It makes me wonder if, when all is said and done, their [Reedsy's] editors—and perhaps those employed by other large editing/publishing houses—aren't making a whole lot more than I am. Except in this case, the author is paying the difference.

Read that last sentence again. If we're making about the same, why not cut out the middleman—the one who isn't doing the work—and pay the freelancer directly? I may be biased, but it sure seems more cost-effective to me.

~~~~~~~~~~~~~
And now a shameless plug from our sponsor: 

For the month of October, I'm running a special on editing packages for 2018, and it's pretty doggone good, so you may wish to check it out on my "Special Offers" tab. Plus you get to see a kickin' photo of an old, happy guy playing the accordion with one hand while holding a large mug of beer in the other. (Yeah, that'll get you running over there . . .)

Editor's Notes #38: Dialogue Part 3—Those @#$!$%^ Tags

This is the third and final part in my series on dialogue. Click HERE to read Part One—Regional Overkill, and click HERE to read Part Two—Sounding Real.

Book after book has been written about them. Blog after blog has featured articles with cautionary tales. And yet . . . the overly awkward dialogue tag still manages to work its way out of the garbage can and into manuscripts the world over.

In fact, while researching for this post, I was astounded at the number of articles I found which advocated "the death of 'Said'" and "making your dialogue more interesting with anything but 'said'" and other generally bad advice.

I'm not saying there's never a good moment for a shout here and there, but the advice to young writers on various teaching blogs & forums goes directly against the advice of best-selling authors, who sometimes advise to skip tags altogether as often as possible, and more often suggest "said" or "asked" as a way of making the tag disappear.

Personally, I tend to skim over dialogue tags when I'm reading, so I like the idea of eliminating them more often than not, unless the conversation becomes confusing. Maybe it's because I read decent books that use "said" and "asked" and, as promised by those high-level authors, those two particular words become invisible after a little while.

No one wants to read the old-fashioned (and thankfully, almost never used) "he ejaculated" as a dialogue tag. The more obscure tags will pull a reader from the story as physically as tipping him out of his chair. Think of how often you've read "blustered," "queried," "wailed," "bellowed," "quipped," and the like. I don't know about you, but when I read those words, in my mind the character is instantly replaced by the Skipper from Gilligan's Island, a blusterer & bellower from way back. Or suddenly the character is Lucille Ball, wailing her trademark waaahhh.

Elimination of dialogue tags in certain spots can be effective for quick back-and-forth action. If your characters are written distinctly, their manner of speech should indicate easily enough who's talking.

Another mistake inexperienced writers often make is to use dialogue tags that don't work in the physical world:

• "I love you," she breathed. Nope. You can't breathe in while speaking. And breathing out is not the same as forcing air through your mostly closed vocal cords.
• "Don't do that," he growled. Nope again. Try growling and saying anything intelligible. You're not Batman.
• "Get over here, NOW," she hissed. Double nope. Hissing and speaking don't mix, and hissing sounds usually require the use of the letter "s." Just ask Harry Potter.
• "What do you mean, you won't?" he barked. Nooooope. Unless it's a dog literally barking, and you understand that he sounds like arf arf woof woof grrr but you can translate it in your head like a foreign language, or—oh, forget it. You get my point.

So . . . to recap these three posts neatly: don't overuse regional dialect and slang, make sure your characters sound as real as the people around you, and make those dialogue tags disappear, whether literally or figuratively.

I'd love to know: Have you ever read a truly abominable dialogue tag? Have you written one you regret (or that your editor made you regret until you removed it)?

Editor's Notes #35: Edits Is Important

One of the editors I follow on Twitter posted a thought last week, and I instantly felt a kinship. She stated that she could not count how many books she'd edited after they'd already been published. I have done this a number of times, and for a number of reasons. Her comment ended with "Don't make this same mistake!"

Someone replied to her tweet with, "Why is this a mistake?" I think he thought she was saying it was a mistake to get a book edited after publishing, whereas I am 99.99% sure she was cautioning against publishing before proper editing. Tiny detail, but important. It is NEVER too late to get a book properly edited if you plan on writing more books. As the post title states (or should state), edits are important.

As an editor, I feel it's important to see what other editors are up to, so I follow a number of editing blogs and editors on the various social media outlets. There's so much information (and misinformation) out there that I figure by following them, I can only increase my chances of learning something I may not have found on my own—or without hours of extensive research. After all, I realize there are people who read my Editor's Notes who are astounded at what I've come up with, because it's the first time they've ever heard this stuff. Nouns? Verbs? What? She's a genius!

Work with me here, people. I can dream.

There are also those (probably the majority) who already know 90% of what I have to share. They most likely do what I do: you read the stuff you already know and consider it another mental nail to hold your knowledge in place on that particular subject. Repetition is great, and I'm always thrilled to not have to look something up because I've used that particular rule from the Chicago Manual so many times that "it's in there."

So why are edits (prior to publishing) important? I have worked with and spoken with a number of authors who have experienced the following (and I will use "him" as my pronoun here, though some are men and some are women):

• Wrote a book, had someone close to him read it, published it. Got bad reviews due to lack of editing. Hired an editor and republished. Didn't realize the editor was a hack, got more bad reviews. Hired a better editor and got the book fixed but found it almost impossible to get anyone to reread the corrected version because they'd already given up on that author, due to so many other books out there to sift through. Lost all the oomph and has had a hard time wanting to continue writing. Enough years have passed now that a fan base will have to be built from scratch all over again, should the writing ever recommence. 
• Wrote a book, ran the book portions through an online editing "help" service which helped a little but did not substitute fully for a real, live editor. Lack of edits was pointed out, he hired an editor, book quality and fan base improved.
• Wrote a book, hired an expensive editing house to edit book. As much was missed as was caught in a fairly clean copy to begin with, but enough had been overlooked that he hired a new editor for half the price and twice the trustworthiness.
• Wrote a book, published it. Realized an editor was needed and hired one. Editor was so-so but not horrible. Still, enough problems remained to prompt the hiring of another editor to proof. Book is cleaned up and shiny, ready to go.
• Wrote a book, hired an editor who turned out to be a hack. Same hack as the first example I listed, in fact. Realized after getting the edited MS back that the editor had actually made the book worse, and hired another editor, who "edited" many things back to their formerly correct selves and polished up the remainder. Book cleaned up prior to ever publishing, well received, won two awards.
• Wrote a book, published without an editor. Wrote another book, tried to hire an editor but did not want to make the changes suggested, so second book was also published without edits. Both books on Amazon have almost no reviews, and those only from admitted family and friends. I'm assuming the sales are in tandem with the number of reviews.

In some instances above, the writers didn't think they needed edits. In other cases, they truly thought they were doing the right thing by hiring someone who didn't come through. All cases mentioned (and there are many more) highlight the fact that editing is essential, and that it's not always possible to make a good impression after making a bad one. In some of the cases above, the writing was so impressive that people were willing to reread an edited version and subsequent books. In a few other sad cases, that was not the happy ending.

When in doubt, listen to those around you. Get some beta readers. Get some ARC (advance reader copy) readers. Research editors and get free sample evals. It's not just about subject/verb agreement. It's all about making sure that what seems "good enough" is actually correct.

The Art of Having Someone's Back

If I were to take a poll, I'm willing to bet we all know at least one person who is "that" guy. The one who only pops up on reader forums or Twitter to say, "Buy my book!"

Don't get me wrong: there's nothing wrong with self-promoting. Indie authors must do it to survive, and even traditionally published authors should be able to promote and increase book sales. You've worked hard and you should be able to reap the benefits.

But . . . I guess what I'm asking is this: Is that ALL you do? Or do you also take joy in promoting the work of others? Is it all about you, you, you, or is it sometimes about [insert dramatic pause here] SOMEONE ELSE?

There is something . . . call it a necessary skill, call it a natural gift, call it a learned pattern of behavior . . . that benefits everyone at a cost to no one.

S.K. Anthony and her critique partner, Brandon Ax, call it "backhaving." If you're a backhaver, you know exactly what this means. It means being supportive. It means commenting on a blog. It means sharing someone's cover reveal. It means retweeting their links, or even hitting that +1 button to share without having to type a word. It means sharing something on Facebook, such as their book release or Amazon weekend sale. It means reading each other's work, whether it's a simple blog post or a full-blown manuscript. It means being a critique partner or beta reading. It means maybe even buying their book and reading it AND reviewing it.

Granted, no one person can do all those things all the time. And no one should feel pressured to try. But there is a line that begins to draw itself when a person is never, ever a backhaver.  Here are a few of the signs:

• He "doesn't have time" to interact on forums, whether something like Goodreads or other give-and-take conversational places, for the sake of becoming part of the community
• He only goes to the forums when it's time to self-promote
• He doesn't visit blogs and therefore doesn't interact by commenting on them
• He doesn't click the "share" button on Facebook to promote another's work or post
• He doesn't give a shout-out or promote his editor or cover designer on writers' forums to help their businesses grow
• He may post progress reports on a Facebook author page, but only to promote his own work

Is it any wonder that the not-a-backhaver doesn't understand why his book sales aren't through the roof?

Those of us who are backhavers can't imagine how anyone wouldn't be. Of course we share in the joy and successes of others, because we realize it doesn't hurt us to do so. It costs nothing to share someone else's post, promo, or announcement of something good. In fact, it gains you something: community, support, goodwill and more.

Being an independent anything is hard work, whether you own your own plumbing business, make jewelry, are a freelance artist/editor/photographer or whatever. Being a writer, whether self-published or traditionally published, is as much work as anything else when it comes to getting your name out there. Social media is a great tool that costs little to nothing, and is a very effective way to not only get your name out there, but keep it in the forefront of people's minds. It's a lot of work that sometimes pays off. And it's that "sometimes" that keeps us working at it.

I don't know about you, but the people I follow on Twitter, for example, are those who share a little bit of everything. There's the occasional personal tweet that may be funny or ironic, and a mixture of self-promotion and other-promotion. If a person constantly spews political hatred (on either side of the aisle), I unfollow. If a person posts their own books and nothing else, roughly four to five times per hour, all day, I unfollow. (And yes, there have been a few who tweet with that constant kind of bombardment.)

But the backhavers . . . ahh, the backhavers. I remember their names, because I see them when I visit from blog to blog, and on social media in general. They comment. They promote. They have guest posts on their own blogs.

They support. And that's why I know their names, and why I'll most likely buy their books AND read them AND review them.

You may have heard it said that we make the time for that which we deem important. On a related note, if your readers and fellow authors/editors/cover designers/small publishers see you only ever promoting yourself, they'll quickly come to the conclusion that you see only yourself as important—and if they're not important to you, there's no reason for them to support you.

Are YOU a backhaver? If not, it's never too late to start!

*****

For those who have read all the way to the end: I'm working on a future post and need your help!

What is the best and worst writing advice you've ever received?

Shoot me an email at lyndadietz4@gmail.com

and tell me what it was and how it affected your writing.

Shady Publishers

So you've written a book. Good for you! You should be proud of yourself and possibly a little impressed at your own perseverance. You've written and (hopefully) rewritten at least a few times, have gotten people to beta, rewritten yet again, hired someone to edit the manuscript, gotten a cover designed, and now . . . well, the world is waiting and you need to get your book into their hot little hands.

How, exactly, does that happen?

I’m going to talk about how it should NOT happen. As in most of life, if there is something worthwhile, there will always be someone who figures out a way to pervert it to their own advantage. It's no different when it comes to the printed word.

Every so often, there are articles posted about this (and I’ll give you plenty of links at the end), but it never hurts to put it out there again for those who may not be aware. What am I talking about?

Shady publishers, that's what.

They prey on the newbies, the eager, the naive. They know you want to see your book on the virtual shelves of Amazon and the physical shelves of Barnes & Noble, and they're counting on your eagerness to translate into ignorance in the rush to become famous.

Bottom line: you can self-publish through a variety of avenues (and I'll cover that in a separate blog post someday) but if you're looking for a publisher, you need to know one basic fact, and this is it—getting a publisher should not cost you a penny.

There are so-called publishers out there—vanity presses—who charge authors to publish the work, do their scam thing for a while, disappear, and then come back under another name to do it all over again with more unsuspecting people. Often they'll charge more than it would cost to self-publish, and my guess is that people fall for their deception only because they're fearful of the unknowns of self-publishing.

Part of what may drive some to go for the scammers is that self-publishing involves doing all the steps on your own, and all the research that accompanies those steps. Seeking out an editor, a good cover artist, formatting, etc. is such a hands-on thing. I can see how it would appear to be easier to allow a publisher to do all that legwork. All the promotion is your own as well when you self-publish, and scam publishers will try to convince you that your book will be promoted for all the world to see, buy, and love if you sign with them. Instant fame and fortune.

In addition to the appeal of the work being done by others, I think a good number of newer authors may lean toward vanity presses because . . . well, let's just think about the name of a vanity press. Their actions appeal to a person's vanity—the need to be liked and to feel approval. Though there's nothing wrong with being proud of your work and wanting others to enjoy it, the scammers count on that being a driving force in your choice of how to publish.

Vanity presses don't have the same criteria that traditional publishers follow (whether large publishing houses or small presses). Publishers who are on the up and up must be careful to only accept those manuscripts they believe will earn money for them. Their profits come from book sales, and their investments must be wise. Vanity presses, on the other hand, accept pretty much any submission because the money is flowing toward the press, not the author. Scammers have nothing to lose when you say yes to them. And those who don't know better are excited and flattered that a "publisher" is interested in them. Wiki even mentions that “a vanity publisher's intended market is the author and a very small number of interested members of the general public.” Ah, vanity.

As a musician, I can understand this completely. If someone doesn't like what I'm doing, that means, of course, that they don't like ME. Never mind the fact that perhaps they don't like the song itself, or the style in which it was performed. Or maybe they don't like my voice. Does that mean they don't like me as a person? It shouldn't. And yet, we tie our art so closely to ourselves . . . because displaying our art—whether it's music, writing, photography, drawing—often means we've revealed something very deep and personal. Rejection of that "something" is all too easy to link to rejection of "inner me."

And that may be the biggest factor of someone succumbing to the “oooh, shiny” appeal of a vanity press: they love you . . . the inner, personal you! They can make you rich! They won’t be able to stop themselves from bringing up your name during business dinners! The world will sing your name to small children in lullabies!

[Please note that vanity presses are NOT the same as small presses. There are plenty of legit, wonderful small presses out there that may be a good fit for you and your book-publishing needs. I may feature those in a future post.]

Thankfully, there are watchdogs out there. Even if there weren’t, a simple Google search would give a solid heads-up as to who’s been complaining about whom in the publishing business. Here are a few good places to check out, and some interesting blog posts on the topic of how to tell one type of publisher from another:

Absolute Write: Bewares, Recommendations & Background Check —Exactly what it describes, and one of the most useful forums on Absolute Write.

Predators and Editors —This site's listings have temporarily been removed (P&E has called them "stale and outdated") until they can find a new caretaker to update the site. However, they still have a few good links to other resources such as SFWA's Writers Beware.

Scammers (and How to Avoid Them) —Author Megan Morgan put together a helpful post about a year ago with good advice about this. If you have time, check out her 2017 A to Z Challenge posts (which was how I found her in the first place). The woman is hilarious and her theme, 26 Things to Hate About Writing, had me laughing every day in April.

Self-Publishing & Vanity Publishing: Confuse Them and Pay the Price —This is an older post but covers things thoroughly, and reading through the comment section gives almost as much insight as the post itself.

For those who have read all the way to the end: I'm working on a future post and need your help!

What is the best and worst writing advice you've ever received? Shoot me an email at lyndadietz4@gmail.com

and tell me what it was and how it affected your writing.

Editor's Notes #31: My Role as the Enforcer

For those of you who have editors you love (or at least love the quality of their work): how much control do you give them over your manuscript?

I find myself with a multitude of "control levels" when I edit, depending on the author. I tend to be rather tentative when working with an author for the first time, for a number of reasons. I think part of it is that I don't want to scare anyone before they get to know me. I believe (and please correct me if I'm wrong) that most authors are a tiny bit possessive of the manuscripts they've worked so hard to polish. By the time they give it to an editor, they're about as ready as they can be, but they're probably apprehensive of what the editor will tell them. [Love it? Hate it? No affirming comments whatsoever? And what does that mean?] 

My job is to correct what's wrong, yes. But my job is tricky, because I need to do these corrections in such a way that I don't break anyone's spirit or cause discouragement. Make no mistake: there are some things that are black-and-white wrong or right, and those things need to change no matter what else happens. But there are other items that often need attention, and tact is the name of the game.

When I'm working with someone new, I tend to leave a lot of margin comments. Sometimes I do this to explain why I've changed something—such as when there's a common error that "everyone" assumes to be correct, or there's a situation where I appear to be inconsistent but am actually correct. For example, the average reader isn't aware that the word after a colon isn't usually capitalized unless what follows the colon is a question. There are, of course, exceptions, as there always seem to be, but that's the basic rule. So if I have a capped word after a colon in one spot but not in another, the author may think I have no idea what I'm doing. Many authors do know this particular rule—but just in case, I figure it's better to be safe than sorry, so I'll add a margin note to explain the edit.

My basic premise when editing (and I tell people this up front) is that I correct and approve all changes that are nonnegotiable. I'm not going to take the chance that someone will either a.) undo everything I've worked on by hitting the wrong button, or b.) think that proper punctuation is optional and only a suggestion.

I once edited someone's short short (nonfiction) story about her husband's descent into Alzheimer's-induced dementia, and each time she sent the paper back to me, all the changes I'd made were gone. Now, I need to clarify that she was not a paying client—just a friend—and is an elderly lady who admittedly was "just dumb sometimes" (her words) when it came to word processing programs. I must have edited that thing six times for every one time the changes stayed put. She kept saying things like, "I thought I'd mentioned that I wanted to add such and such," and "What happened to the section on so and so?" and I would point out that I'd already added such and such, and the section on so and so was right where we'd left it. In my copy, that is.

Lesson learned. I ended up making all the corrections one final time, approved every dang one of them, relabeled the document, and sent it to her with strict instructions to DELETE every other copy she had in her possession. I told her I still had her original if she needed it, but that the final copy with all the corrections was the only one she needed to keep and/or read through. It was frustrating and funny at the same time, because she was obviously not an experienced writer and couldn't figure out what she was doing wrong.

My tentative attitude goes away bit by bit as I work with an author more often. Those authors I've worked with multiple times trust my judgment on what needs to move along and what can stay, and it makes my job easier with each subsequent book.

Each author has his or her own preference, though, and I will abide by their wishes if the reasoning makes sense. Otherwise, I will of course tell them why they are wrong and need to obey listen to me. S.K. Anthony is a classic example of someone I trust completely when it comes to doing the right thing. She trusts that I know what I'm doing, but she wants to approve all changes herself (even the nonnegotiables) because she uses the read-through as a teaching tool. Her theory runs along these lines: if she has to approve every change, one by one, then she will know what she did wrong for next time, and there will be fewer errors. She also describes herself as a control freak when it comes to her manuscripts, and though I won't argue with that (there really is no winning an argument with her), she is a lovable control freak so I go with it and she approves all changes.

Other authors run the gamut from "this is what I pay you for and if you do it wrong, your name is on the editing credits for people to blame" (fair enough) to "we've worked on enough books that I trust your judgment even on the subjective stuff; just do it and I'll be fine with it." The cool thing about the latter sentiment is that the author gets back a pretty clean-looking manuscript and has the ego-boost moment of "hey, there weren't many changes to be made . . . I rock." Of course I'm always quick to wipe the (fake) sweat off my brow and talk about how hard I worked to make it look that clean.

Overall, the important part is to have an ongoing communication between an author and me so we're all clear on what responsibilities fall on which side of the table.

What is your preference?

Editor's Notes #19: What Makes You Stop Reading a Book? Part 1 of 2

I don't know that I was ever formally taught this, but for most of my life, I believed if I started a book, I had to finish it. No one ever sat me down and said, "Wash your hands before eating, make your bed when you get out of it, and finish every book you start," so I'm not sure where I came up with this. (For the record, I do wash my hands regularly, though the bed-making is hit or miss, depending on whether I'm the last one awake. But . . . back to the book stuff.)

Perhaps it was easier back in the day when there were fewer books available for me to read. After all, there was no such thing as a digital book—or even a personal computer, for that matter—when I was growing up, so any books I read, I either owned or borrowed from the library.

My mother recently reminded me of something I'd said when I was very young: I was afraid of someday running out of books to read. She used to take us to the library on a regular schedule, since it was also one of her favorite places to visit, and on one particular visit, I remarked at how sad I was while looking for books because I was reading them all at such a rapid rate, I was convinced that very soon there would be no more. Our town library was pretty small, and I plowed through the children's selection in short order, followed by the juvenile fiction a few years later. By the time I moved beyond that, I had no worries about a lack of reading material.

The good thing about "those days" was that I read and reread so many favorites. I can recall certain portions verbatim, or remember where I was when reading a particular book. Much like a certain perfume can take someone back to a place or time, I can't think of Alice in Wonderland & Through the Looking Glass without picturing my large, annotated hardcover (complete with super-hip 1970s artwork) . . . a gift from a favorite aunt for my 8th birthday, along with Hans Brinker in the same format. I still have both of them, and in fact picked up similar copies of Around the World in Eighty Days, Treasure Island, and Call of the Wild at an old bookstore about ten years ago, simply because it brought back all those memories in a rush.

In more recent years, the sheer quantity of books available online caused a sort of overload for me when I first got a Kindle. All of a sudden I could have just about every classic at my fingertips, and most of them were free. I began to browse the "Top 100 Free" category with regularity and consumed fresh material at a rapid pace, finding new authors I enjoyed. However, along with those good authors came some clunkers. A LOT of clunkers. Apparently, "Top 100" means "most downloaded" and not necessarily "top quality."

It was then that I discovered my time was more valuable than I'd realized. I'm the person who can't be bothered to waste seven minutes watching a news video because I'd rather read the transcript of it in less than sixty seconds, and yet here I was, committed to finishing an awful book that was poorly written, with the (vain) hope that it would somehow get better before the final page. That was bad enough, but when I found myself doing this for one book after another, after another, after . . . you get the idea . . . I knew I'd have to change my "finish or die" policy before it became "finish and want to die."

Since those early, heady days of "ALL the books at my fingertips!" and the resultant letdown as I read a plethora of bad ones, I've come up with a few general guidelines that help me to know when to keep chugging along and when to just chuck it and never look back. These guidelines have helped me with my editing as well, allowing me to give better advice to the authors I work with.

I'll share those with you in Part 2 next time.

What You May Have Missed . . . the Odd Stuff

This post follows up on the last one, with the flip side of what I've been up to in my own little editing world.

I've had some odd experiences over the past couple years when editing for people, and I sort of file those under the "huh" category and move along, not knowing whether I'll hear from them again or not, for whatever reason on my end or theirs.

I receive editing requests on a regular basis (that's the goal, after all), and I've learned to not get excited about them until I research a bit more. I've had dozens of instances of "I FOUND YOUR SITE AND I LOVE IT AND I HAVE A BOOK THAT NEEDS EDITED CAN YOU HELP ME I'VE ATTACHED MY FIRST THREE CHAPTERS FOR YOU TO EVALUATE!"

My standard response? I reply with some questions, such as:

• What is the genre and length of your novel?
• What is your expected publishing date and how long do you anticipate the edits to take?
• Have you been in contact with other editors for evaluations?
• Has anyone other than you read through your manuscript for beta purposes?
• How did you find me and have you read through my terms and pricing? 

I don't think these are unreasonable questions. They're pretty basic, in fact. And yet, I'm never surprised when 90% of those people don't reply. My guess is that there are people out there who submit a different set of chapters to a variety of editors for a free eval, with the intent to work the system and eventually get all their chapters edited for free. I'm no conspiracy theorist, but a realist with human nature when strangers deal with each other for business purposes.

Still, there are the 10% who are serious about needing an editor; some have become friends, some are merely friendly business acquaintances who contact me when they need me, and others simply puzzle me. 

One author I worked with contracted me for a novel that had been subject to what I call "backward publishing"—when the book gets released for sale in the hopes that it will generate enough income to get it edited later. When the author approached me, it was stated that there would be "a second book, probably following within a month, because I just need to get this done." That was fine by me. The author was pleasant, the writing was decent, and of course I was happy to have the work lined up back in the earlier days. I did the first book, sent it back, the author was pleased, and I asked to be notified when it was updated on Amazon so I could promo it. The author replied two weeks later, saying things had gotten really busy with regular life (they own a family business) and that the book would be uploaded when there was time. I never received a notification that the book was updated. I've looked on Amazon a few times and have never seen my name or ERE listed with editing credits, though there are many other acknowledgements listed in the front matter of the "look inside" feature. In reading the first chapter, it seems as if my edits are there (mostly because I remembered there were a lot of punctuation issues in the original and now they're gone) but the lack of any follow-through bothers me. As you may have guessed, there was no second book and no reference to the fact that the time had been booked for it. By then, I was busy enough that I didn't press the issue, but it was a curious event nonetheless. A lot of hours go into what I do, and having my name or the business name in the list of credits is how I can prove I've done the work I claim to have done. And if an author isn't happy with my work, or found someone more affordable, I will never know it (or why) if there's no followup. [Side note for this particular author: just before publishing this post, I did notice there is a second book now published in the series I worked on, and an editor was thanked—though not by name (what??)—which makes me wonder if there was something I did wrong or if a friend offered to edit for free. I need to know these things. Curiosity kills me.]

Thankfully, most people aren't like that, and I've only had one hostile person who would not take advice (and who I ended up declining to work with when all was said and done). I hear from some authors more frequently than others, because everyone writes at a different pace, some penning four books in the time it takes another to write one. I've met some interesting people in the process, whether they ended up working with me or someone else, and I have to admit that I enjoy being surprised by the high-quality creativity some people have bubbling in their brains. 

And I still get a thrill when someone comes back as a repeat client, because ultimately, that speaks volumes over a pleasant email "thank you" any day.

Editor's Notes #18 : Does Your Editor Go the Extra Mile?

I'm sure each of us has been the recipient of the phrase, "It's not what you said, it's how you said it!" when we've inadvertently offended someone. I would be willing to bet there's not a person on this earth who hasn't said the right thing in the wrong way at least once. Heck, I do it all the time, so I probably skew the statistics a bit for everyone else. 

Is tact really an art form, or can any ol' schmo learn it? I do think some people are naturally more tactful than others, but I think a small helping of tact can smooth over a plethora of situations. In our family, we have the two ends of the scale, right under one roof. Lucky us, right? Hmm. Well, on one hand there's me:

PERSON: Would you like to come over on Saturday? We're having a picnic with a bunch of people you don't know and probably won't ever see again, but you're always good for a fun time.

ME: [I'm tired and do NOT want to go but can't lie about it, either.] Well, I have a lot going on this week, and Saturday's the only day I can catch up with my family, so I'll have to bow out this time. But thanks for inviting me! That was really sweet of you.

And there's my husband:

PERSON: Would you like to come over on Saturday? We're having—

HUBBY: No.

The man does have it in him to be tactful when necessary, like when I say, "How does this look?" and he replies, "Well . . . I know you really like that outfit and it doesn't look bad, but it's not the most flattering thing you own." More often than not, he prefers to be blunt. Because he never does it with the intention of being hurtful, people who know him appreciate that they'll always get an honest answer.

I associate honesty with caring. If I care about you, I'll tell you if you've hurt my feelings. I may wait a bit so as not to react in knee-jerk fashion, but I need to the relationship to be healthy and therefore won't let it fester. It may not always be the comfortable thing to say, but I'll put it out there and if the other person also cares, the issue will get fixed.

How does this relate to editing, you may ask? Let's put it into the proper context. I get paid to do the job of a copy editor. I can correct typos, fix those tricky semicolons, and correct your homophone use. I can do the bare minimum required. I sends da bill, I gets da money. Fair and square.

But what if the manuscript needs more than what my job description entails? Furthermore, what if I know what needs fixed and have suggestions on how things can be made better? Am I obligated to tell the author these things? No.

But . . .

My personal standards don't allow me to skip that step. If I care, then I am, indeed, obligated to say something. Sometimes the improvements are light, easy fixes, and other times, a whole lot of work is involved.

Perhaps this word might work more effectively here than the one you've used sounds a whole lot nicer than Do you even know what this word means? The first suggestion implies there's a better option out there and it may improve the book to use that option. The second implies that the writer is a moron who deserves to be charged double.

This is not to say it's kinder to only say easy things. There are times that hard truths need to be said, and saying them kindly doesn't mask the fact that they may still be hard to hear. If someone truly wants to improve his work, he'll at least ponder those truths and confirm them with others. If ego takes over, the truths will be stubbornly ignored, and the work may never improve. 

It's my hope that those I work with will always see my comments and suggestions as stemming from a desire to see the book at its best. I would rather tell the truth than stroke the ego any day of the week.

Editor's Notes #17: Does Personality Matter?

When it comes to hiring an editor, does a compatible personality really matter all that much? Do you care whether he or she can relate to you as a person? After all, you're just hiring them to do a job. In many cases, you may never meet them face to face, so you don't have to deal with them in the traditional way. Though I respect those who are interested in a "just business" transaction—and I do accommodate them—I think being compatible does matter.

I surround myself with people who are generally pleasant. I don't care for mean people (really, who does?) and it makes me uncomfortable to be around people who talk down to others.

I need to have people pour into my life as I pour into theirs, and this applies on a professional level as much as it does on a personal level. Even though the personal level is . . . well, personal, and therefore maybe a little deeper, I believe it's important to encourage while doing the job well and not skirting around the truth.

I don't think most writers appreciate those who take and don't give. Everyone appreciates encouragement and a kind word, as long as it's not false flattery. I do "take" in the sense that I take compensation. That's business, plain and simple. But there's no need for me to take their self-esteem by implying that they're not smart enough to know all "the rules." If that's the case, then I have to face the truth that I'm not smart enough to write an original story myself. We all have our gifts. A good mesh of personalities should enhance those gifts and encourage them.

When you develop a relationship with a coworker (in any job), helping each other is part of the deal. Whether you work directly together or on individual aspects of a project, all components must match up and make the final product shine. Normally you see this person every day and you know if she appreciates constructive criticism or if he has a hard time accepting he’s not perfect. You know if they can “take it” straight up or if you have to dance around how you communicate a mistake. And vice versa: they understand our personalities and how we work as well. 

The author-editor relationship isn’t all that different. If my authors know me, they’ll be able to differentiate between whether I’m offering a helpful critique or criticizing them in a condescending way.

If our sense of humor matches up (I like sarcasm), we can laugh about mistakes found in the manuscripts. Because let’s be honest, some are pretty funny. Things I'm allowed to share (yes, I asked): S.K. Anthony had one of her characters "flowering the plants" and in another area couldn't figure out why the word "payed" looked so odd; Raymond Esposito wrote that "deaf people hear things others might miss" when referring to a blind character's uncanny hearing, and in the same book had a character throw a boilermaker in a fistfight, rather than a haymaker (all I could picture was the guy throwing whiskey at the other guy, followed by a splash of beer); I'm forever telling another author to stop naming people he's going to kill, because I'm tired of writing down their information on my style sheet, only to add "dead" beside them ten minutes later. My margin notes hopefully show that I'm laughing along with them rather than laughing at their expense.

Don't get me wrong: I get it back as often as I give it. It's no secret, I think, that S.K. and I share the same brain (sometimes we take turns and one of us gives it up entirely), so when I ramble, she tells me. In fact, I was having trouble organizing my thoughts for this post, and when I sent it off to her for help, she sent it back with the document labeled "Lynda's Disjointed Blog Post." She's also been known to preread my posts and tell me to "cut this part out, because you're whining." 

I want the authors who hire me to feel comfortable—confident in the knowledge that I have the ability to do a good job for them, and secure enough to know that I won't talk in a patronizing way when I make suggestions. Besides, getting to know an author a little better gives me a deeper understanding of how his mind works. By having that extra insight on his individual communication and expression style, I’m able to grasp the written word in his manuscripts on a whole new level. 

Getting along encourages a smooth and fun transaction all around.