"Realities of Self-Editing" E-Book Now Available for Preorder!

If you've been a longtime reader of my blog, you may remember the Realities of Self-Editing blog post series, which covered the mindsets and approaches needed to properly edit your own work. I've wanted to compile and revise it into book form since I was writing it, but for reasons I won't go in to, it was wisest to wait before publishing it.

Now the reason I had for waiting no longer exists, so I've set up my e-book for preorder on Amazon. It's scheduled for release on my birthday, May 8th.

You can get Realities of Self-Editing for $2.99 USD now.

—Misti

---

(Sorry for the long silence, everyone. Life, yanno? But things seem to be settling down, and I intend to be back and on a schedule, soon.)

Is Self-Editing Worth Doing? (or Should You Self Edit?)

In the many posts I've done on the Realities of Self-Editing—yes, it's professional to edit yourself, and yes, it's possible (but not easy) to edit yourself adequately if you follow the secret—I haven't really addressed if you should self-edit.

Sure, I've said you should learn what goes into self-editing, so you can recognize a good editor when you see one, but…

Should you self-edit?

Short answer: Yes.

Long answer: It depends on what you're doing.

For a lot of folks, "self-editing" = a trap, because they get stuck in it while in progress on a story. There's a reason for the term "rough draft", and there's a lot of truth to the saying "You can't fix what isn't on paper."

Some of us actually have to edit as we go, else we get stuck, so it actually takes us less time to clean up that rough section than it does to try to force rough words on paper, but…

Folks like me are the exception, not the norm—and even I've learned how to sit down and force a thousand or three words out, then clean them up before moving on. (And I do have to clean 'em up before moving on, else I get stuck, but I've learned that because I've tried both ways more than once and timed it.)

Another factor in self-editing: What's the next stage for your story? If you're writing something as an experiment, where you're not even sure the bones are in place… If you can find a beta reader who can overlook the grammar to check if the story works, by all means, use them before you spend time editing scenes that don't work!

If you're behind or coming up on a deadline, and your agent or editor or whatever needs to see something—that's another situation where it might be best just to hand them the bare bones before you self-edit, but…that depends on how sensitive they are to grammar errors.

Some folks are so sensitive to grammar errors that, if there are too many, we struggle to see the story beneath. Line editors, copyeditors, and proofreaders are particularly susceptible to this, because paying attention to grammar errors is our job. We're trained to see errors, and turning that training "off" to enjoy a story for the story isn't easy.

So even if hire an editor to check the grammar on your work, you should try to edit it first.

Why?

So the editor can focus on fixing the errors you don't see.

Think about it. Maybe you know the difference between "break petal" and "brake pedal", but that doesn't mean you'll see it in your own work. (That one was found in Destiny's Kiss.)

If your story's full of grammar errors you could easily fix, that makes it harder for the editor to see the other problems, like the "break petal"s, so you won't get as good an edit—or learn as much—as you would've gotten otherwise. (You'll also probably pay more.)

Note that I'm not saying "Work your butt off to get a 'perfect' manuscript before you hire an editor!"*

Frankly, hiring an outside editor is something that even folks who can adequately self-edit do, because it's convenient. Don't underestimate the power of convenience.

If you can't afford to pay for editing, or if the convenience isn't worth what you'd have to sacrifice from your budget, don't underestimate the power of bartering or of beta readers, either.

But even if you do all your own content editing, line editing, proofreading…at least get another set of eyes on your manuscript in the form of beta readers. Don't post your book for sale and let those readers as your editors. They paid you for the right to enjoy your book, so as much as you can, give them a book that's enjoyable.

Readers who pay you are your clients. Show them the respect of offering them the best book you can produce.

Just remember: No book's perfect. So don't make yourself sick stressing over every little comma. Just do the best you can.

And take the things you've learned in writing that previous story and write the next one.

Do you have any more thoughts to add about self-editing? Do you have any other topics you'd like to see me address (about self-editing or other things)?

*Note: You do want to have a fairly clean manuscript before seeking a publisher, though, because it's unlikely that your manuscript is so great that they'll look past the unprofessional presentation—and to assume they'll edit a manuscript you submit on spec is unprofessional. ("On spec" means you submit the completed manuscript to ask them to buy it; if you've already a contract in place and have a grammar editor lined up, you can be less worried about it, but you still want to leave a good impression.)

—Misti

---

I hope you're getting value out of these blog posts. Each one generally takes me an hour or two to write. That's an hour or two that could be spent doing paid work or on getting the next story out to you. Blogging doesn't pay any bills.

So if you've found the post valuable, please consider leaving a sign of your appreciation in the tip jar. Thanks!

How to See What's Really There (not what you think is there) when Editing the Little Picture

I've addressed tricks for seeing what's actually on the page rather than what's usually there when you're editing the "big picture". Now it's time to cover the tricks to seeing what's actually there—not what you think is there—when editing the "little picture".

In other words, how do you see your own typos?

There are several methods, and some work better than others—but the best one for you will depend on you.

Also, bear in mind: Even with these methods, it will take more work for you to see your own typos than it will for someone else. You also have to know what you're looking at to know if it's correct.

But once you know what you're doing (or if, say, you're writing for school or work and must edit yourself), these methods will help you find your own errors insofar as you're able.

• Wait before editing your text.

Wait between finishing a manuscript and starting the edit. Ideally, the wait's long enough that you'll have completely forgotten what you intended to write. The length of the original piece of writing, how long you spent writing it, and your own memory will influence how long you'll have to wait for this one to be effective.

This is why a writer might finish a novel and wait a year or more before looking at it again.

• Re-read your text.

The trick to re-reading effectively is to change the format of what you're writing. If you wrote by hand, read it on a computer or tablet screen (and a sans-serif font is best). If you wrote it on the computer, read it on paper or your E Ink e-reader (and a serif font is best).

If you must stick to working all on computer, due to time or material constraints, change the font and change the margin.

• Read your text aloud.

This means you read it aloud yourself—and yes, mumbling counts.

Tongue-twisters are flags for confusing sentences. And you might be surprised how much typos jump out when you're trying to say them.

• Have your text read to you.

While it's possible that you might find someone willing to read your story for you, this one's usually done by having your computer, tablet, or e-reader read your text to you.

Even with synthesized voices, once you get used to how they pronounce things, you can "hear" commas, periods, etc., and find lots of typos. (And if you lose track of a sentence being said…that's probably a confusing sentence that could use revision.)

• Read your text backward, word by word or sentence by sentence.

This one is all typo check, since you can't evaluate paragraphs this way.

I've only ever done it for an essay, and I didn't find it worth my time. If you're particularly prone to typos, particularly of types that your spell checker won't catch, then you might find the sentence by sentence version worthwhile to watch for homophones.

• Use editing software.

Be warned that grammar checker can be useful if you know what you're doing, but if you don't—avoid listening to it. It'll often auto-choose the wrong subject and verb in your sentence, or think that you're using a word as a different part of speech than what it actually is.

There are also some programs designed with the sole purpose of editing, like AutoCrit, EditMinion, and Pro Writing Aid. (If you use Scrivener, check the Text Statistics for a window listing how many times you use each word, which is handy for finding words you overuse.)

There you have it: six (6) methods for finding your own typos and other "little picture" errors when microediting.

What's your preferred method for finding "little picture" errors? Do you have another technique to add here?

—Misti

How to See What's Really There (not what you think is there) when Editing the Big Picture

A few times, now, I've mentioned that there are all sorts of "tricks" to being able to see what's actually on the page instead of what you think you put there.

So what are some of those tricks when you're macro editing, editing the big picture in your story?

• Write (or notecard) your story outline or synopsis.

Yep, you can write your outline after you write the book. Why would you do that, you ask?

Reason: It's easier to analyze a sentence than an entire scene.

How to do it: One sentence per scene. That's the key, see. Write no more than a sentence per scene. Write no less than a sentence per scene. If you cannot write that single sentence per scene, either nothing's happening and the scene needs some revision, or you're getting too wrapped up in the details. (Tip: drop all adjectives and adverbs unless it's something like "Jane learns Jill is dead", wherein dead is an adjective.)

When done with the writing, eye those sentences with an eye for 2 things:

1. Does each one have a change?
2. Does each one connect to the ones on either side of it?

No? Why not? (Maybe you wrote the wrong sentence, for example—but most likely, that's a warning sign.

Unfortunately, outlines and notecards are extremely popular at other stages in your writing—like, say, setting all these scenes up in advance.

I say "unfortunately" because that means I can't really find the links I'm looking for, though here's one author who uses this method.

In the past few months, I know I found a fantastic blog post or three about how to phrase those analyses sentences, I think on Janice Hardy's blog…but I've changed computers recently and lost my bookmarks. (Jami? Somebody? Link help, please!)

Personally, I'm a fan of using notecards in a method fashioned after Holly Lisle's methods: Write each scene on a notecard color-coded to indicate how much work is needed. My "color coding" = highlighter or marker along the top edge of a white notecard. I also make a key card for that stack. Reason for the white card, color on top: I can look at the top edge and see how much work the book will need, but I also can read the cards easily—due to a quirk in my learning style, color hinders me.

(As an aside, Holly Lisle's book Mugging the Muse is $0.99 well spent.)

• Check your story against the a formula.

Popular ones include Blake Snyder's Save the Cat! (spreadsheet here, made by Elizabeth Davies) and Larry Brooks's Story Engineering (spreadsheet here, made by Jami Gold—who has also combined those two.)

Some authors even develop their own for particular stories of theirs for their own genre.

You don't have to use a formula—I personally chose not to follow one with A Fistful of Fire, because whenever I looked into making it more…"conventional", I would've had to make changes that would've hurt what I'd meant it to be.

However, it's highly likely that I unconsciously applied some formula to that story. I have difficulty analyzing plot events and their purpose, but I've started checking A Fistful of Earth against some of those formulas and am finding it to be pretty close.

The book-based formulas make it easy: Download or create a spreadsheet for it, plug in your word count, see if the required thing happens at the required page (or ± a few pages), and if they don't match up, determine if you want to change it or not—because formulas exist for a reason, so you need to understand the formula to understand when and if you should break it.

(So in case you're wondering, yes, I'm well aware that I broke a lot of pacing "rules" with A Fistful of Fire. It also tends to be my most popular title, so evidently I pulled it off.)

• Write your blurb and tagline.

Your blurb shows up in things like your query letter or cover copy, and your tagline can be a pithy thing you'd want used on your cover or can be your elevator pitch. Writers like Janice Hardy and Jami Gold (and even Nathan have done such thorough jobs writing posts on how to do those things, that I just have to refer you to them:

• Janice Hardy's How to Write a Query (for your blurb)
• Janice Hardy's How to Write a Pitch line (for your tagline)
• Jami Gold's Ultimate Guide to Pitch Writing (for your blurb)

Personally, I prefer doing at least the blurb before I write the book, because I'm pretty much a panster, and writing those in advance helps me target what I want my story to be.

Do you have any techniques, examples, or resource links that you find particularly useful that you'd like to add? Which technique(s) sound or are most useful to you?

—Misti

The Secret of Successful Self-Editing

At long last, after much chattering and discussion and random interruptions, we reach what you really want to know: the secret of self-editing that works.

This secret applies to fiction and non-fiction, to school essays and independent work, when ghostwriting under NDAs and writing under your own name—though it applies a bit differently under some of those, but we'll get to that. (NDA = Non-Disclosure Agreement, by the way.)

Honestly, it's not exactly a secret. You probably do this already, without realizing it. I've even hinted at it before.

What's the secret to successful self-editing?

Beta readers.

I hear some of you chuckling or snorting in amusement, but others are surely startled. How is it self-editing if you have beta readers? …And, um, if you're not legally allowed to have someone else know that you wrote something—as when you work under a NDA—how can you have it beta read?

First, you might remember my post on how to find beta readers. (If you're new or missed that one, well, there's the link.) In the "Warning" section, I brought up something important:

You have to find the beta reader(s) that fit your needs.

Now, what are your needs? That'll depend on you.

Is your weakness grammar? Ask around, try to find someone who both knows what they're doing and can actually do it.

Maybe you need language translation. Ask folks you know; see if you can find some native speakers to translate. Play online games? Ask guildmates. Hang out on a forum or at a coffee shop? Ask around. You might be surprised by the people you know.

Me? The rules for commas, for semicolons, for em dashes, for en dashes, for suspension points—I know all that. Sure, I'm naturally blind to my own mistakes, but there are tricks to help with that. (We'll get into those in a later post, but for now, here's an article I wrote a few years ago, geared for freelance article writing.)

One thing I always I need on early drafts is content comments. Easily confused readers are particularly handy for me as beta readers, because I don't think with transitions. Because I don't think with transitions—seriously, I confuse myself sometimes—I have trouble writing with them, and I've found that easily confused readers are fantastic for stumbling over spots where I omitted a transition.

In fact, I recently wrote a novelette that I knew had problems. It was a transition-less mess that assumed the reader was already familiar the world it was set in, and I was pretty sure some of it was out of order. I intentionally found a beta reader unfamiliar with the series or even with me as a writer, someone who would hack my story into puzzle pieces for me. (I've spent well over 2 hours on the content of those original 6.9k words, stitching it back up and plying it like taffy for the resultant story of 8.8k words. That's about 2k words I added, mostly in transitions. I did say it was a mess.)

Now, what if I'd handed that mess to a proofreader-type beta reader? That person might've found a few details, and he might've said "I'm confused," but I may or may not have gotten the type of feedback I needed for what I knew needed to be done to fix that story into being what I'd originally intended it to be.

In short:

You must pick an appropriate beta reader for the type of editing you need for each story.

If you don't pick the proper type, you'll be wasting the time and effort of both you and your beta.

But even so, contrary to what some folks will tell you, having your story beta read by at least one person who's an copyeditor/proofreader type—particularly if you're already good with grammar, yourself—can actually warrant you a good edit. The problem is that you need to have some idea how to edit, yourself, to be able to identify when someone does as good a job as they say they can. I've encountered many an author who cheerfully had their books "cleaned up" by an editor that they think is amazing…until typo complaints come in, backed by proof. Or until readers complained about "poor editing" (meaning pacing, or structure, or plotting, or…something other than what the author had edited).

However, that issue remains regardless of whether you rely on free or paid content editing, line editing, proofreading, etc. You have to know what "good" is for that task, to recognize it when you see it.

Remember my post on reasons authors should dabble in cover design? One reason: Playing with the parts helps you learn what goes into a cover, and it helps you eye covers with an eye for what you want and what you don't want in your covers. Personally, I prefer covers that have text on top, if not also the bottom. But also, I want the text (not an image) on top, where the eye will be first. The cover for "Romeo & Jillian" violates that for me, but I also didn't design it. I bought it from Dara England's clearance bin for pre-made covers.

Thus why this series on self-editing has focused on what goes into editing, etc.—if you don't know, you won't be able to recognize good editing of the type you need if you see it.

And believe me, when you use beta readers, you need to know what you're dealing with and how to take their input, because otherwise, they might just screw your story up.

But when you pick ones that fit you, fit your story, ones you know how to work with… They can help make your story the best you can get it.

That's why some authors pay their beta readers: gratitude and acknowledgement for the time they spend helping—although some probably also pay because they can't return the favor and beta read for the person beta reading for them.

Now, what do you do in situations like school essays or writing with NDA agreements? How do you find a beta reader?

In those situations, you already have one: the teacher or client. In some situations, the teacher or client actually starts out acknowledging that the two of you will need a round of discussion to make sure the writing matches expectations on both their ends. In others, the client or teacher will expect you to somehow be telepathic and know what they want.

Either way, that's their choice for how they want to run their classrooms or business. If you dislike it, find another client or teacher.

Just like, in the more conventional sense, you can find another beta reader when you need one.

Do you rely on beta readers? Do you know what kind of editing your worst at? Do you know people who can help you with it?

—Misti

---

I hope you're getting value out of these blog posts. Each one generally takes me an hour or two to write. That's an hour or two that could be spent doing paid work. Blogging doesn't pay any bills.

So if you've found the post valuable, please consider leaving a sign of your appreciation in the tip jar. Thanks!

What Goes into a House Style Sheet or Style Guide

You've probably heard of making a story or character "bible": a document (or folder) that contains all your information about your story, from character appearances and ages to backstory details.

(Tip: If you don't have a story "bible", it's a good idea to make one as soon as possible after starting a book. I'm still figuring out the best way to make one for me, so I have a few different types on my computer, just for Aleyi: a "bible" Scrivener project, a Numbers spreadsheet, and a Tiddly Wiki file. Each method has its strengths and weaknesses, so I'll probably continue using all three for different aspects of the story.)

But that's a side topic, right now. Most writers know about making story bibles, though I suspect few of us actually make strong ones.

What about making style sheets? (And I don't mean cascading ones. House style sheets ≠ CSS.)

A publisher's "house style" ensures consistency across its titles. If you self-publish—or if you want to get your story as clean as it can be for submission—you want to have your own personal "house style" set so your stories can be internally consistent, in grammar and formatting.

The style sheet (AKA "style guide") addresses such details as…

• Which grammar and spelling styles you use (US? UK? Australian? Canadian?)
• Which grammar handbook do you use? (US default: Chicago Manual of Style, except in specific fields)
• On what points do you disagree with your handbook, if any? (Create a "writer's punctuation style" list for what disagrees.)
• Which dictionary do you use? (Common US default: Merriam-Webster, though American Heritage is also popular.)
• On what points do you disagree with your dictionary, if any? (Compound nouns in particular differ among sources—create a "preferred spellings" list for what disagrees.)
• Who are your cast? (List them, with brief explanations when necessary; for example, only one person in Destiny's Kiss calls her "Kiss"; others call her "Des" or "Kissy".)
• What special words are in your text, and what do they mean? (For example, in my Aleyi stories, elfin is an adjective that specifically refers to people.)
• What foreign words are in your story, what is their language of origin, and what do they mean?
• What naming conventions are to be followed, if any, and for whom?
• Is there anything else stylistic or grammatical that should be caught in line editing, copyediting, or proofreading?

Some helpful things to include:

• What do you use to indicate scene breaks? (What character, if any, with how many returns?)
• What's your formatting at the beginning of each chapter? (What font, what font size, and how much white space above it?)
• What's your body text font and font size?
• Do you have any other formatting details in the story, and if so, what are they?

That list of things to include looks monstrous, doesn't it? but formatting this sheet actually isn't all that hard. You can do it one of two main ways:

1. In lists
2. In tables

The main difference is, do you prefer working in a word processor or in a spreadsheet? Personally, I'll use either one. I prefer making them with Numbers, but those don't convert well. If it's a document I'll be sending to others more often than I'll be using it myself, I'll write it up in RTF format.

The trick to formatting a style sheet is to use lots of lists and lots of white space.

So if you make a stylesheet in a word processor, use a lot of bulleted lists, with a bold header indicating what the list is of.

Let me give a peek at two examples (for my own stories, so no client confidences broken):

Text Style Sheet Snapshot:

Table Style Sheet

They're both pretty readable, huh? The spreadsheet version makes it easier to reorganize within individual lists, while it's often easier to rearrange the lists themselves (their order and placement) on the word processing version.

However, though you want things to be simple, you also need to be clear about what your style sheet refers to, so you must begin it properly. Here's a peek at what the start for my Chronicles of Marsdenfel stylesheet looks like:

Notice that the beginning clearly says what world it refers to, what language the story's written in, with the default grammar handbook and dictionary—and notice on that top right. Language morphs over time, so the era of your story can make a difference.

For example, I have plans for stories set during the Crystal Wars. There's one I've worked on a little—because some of those characters in it appear in A Fistful of Earth—but I already know that felves were called something else, then, as were faeries. Jargon differed. (It gets a bit awkward when those centuries-old people talk in A Fistful of Earth, because they're the only ones who understand some of the things they say.)

You don't have to make a style sheet, of course, but I recommend it. It'll make editing and proofreading a lot easier, whether you do it yourself or hire someone.

Do you make style sheets for your work? Do you plan to? Which method do or will you use, word processing or spreadsheet?

—Misti

5 Methods for "Little Picture" Editing

As I said last week (and at other times), a problem with self-editing is that you as author know what you intended to say, which means you have to trick yourself into forgetting that so you see what's actually on the page.

(Note: This works for school essays, too.)

Writers have different writing techniques and learning styles, too, so one writer's best method might be another's worst. You'll have to practice and test yourself, to figure out the best methods for tricking yourself—and, when you encounter stories that you wrote differently than usual, you'll have to keep practicing and testing to figure out the best route for usual.

For example, someone who writes a quick rough draft to spew words out on the page won't remember what's there as well as someone who edits while they write. That makes it easier for the former type to trick themselves—but the latter type's more likely to know how to edit.

Because writing and editing are two different skills.

And revision/rewriting (whichever you want to call fixing what you've written) is yet another one.

(And remember: it's always far easier to edit others' work than to edit your own.)

So, last week we went over some methods to trick yourself for "big picture" (macro) editing. How do you trick yourself for "little picture" (micro) editing.

---

5 Methods for "Little Picture" (Micro) Editing:

• Wait before re-reading.

Wait between writing and editing, preferably writing something else in the meantime.

When used properly, this method helps everyone. (Though it helps folks who write quickly more than it does those who write slowly.) Time gives you distance to see what's actually on the page—which makes it helpful for both catching problems and for taking a deep breath when you're panicking and convinced your book is the worst thing ever.

(Oh, and that "Ah! This is terrible! How can I inflict this on the public!" feeling is normal—it's even a good sign…)

But you can also cripple yourself with this method, constantly waiting "just a little longer." So put a cap on how long you'll wait before tackling an edit. My personal cap's a month, though I'm an edit-as-I-go type of writer.

(Note: If writing is your business, you'll want to figure out writing methods that let you only need to wait for a day or week. Clients generally won't give you an extra year on a deadline.)

(And it's best to work on something else while you wait, to help you forget.)

• Change the format.

If it's handwritten, start by typing it; if it's typed, start by changing the font (if not font size or margins) between every pass.

Why? It'll move things around, so you have to focus on what you're reading. You won't subconsciously remember the last word on the third page as on; instead, it might show up in the middle of the fourth page and therefore reveal itself as an of.

Now, when you get down to the final pass, it's best to work on a printed page. A printed page will make it easier to find errors, but it'll take more time to fix those errors. You can print it yourself or set up a POD version on CreateSpace and use that for the final proof.

• Check your writing against checklists.

Everyone has "pet" words and techniques and problems, things they're prone to in their writing.

So as you learn what your weak points are, take notes. And make checklists.

Maybe you often confuse lay and lie. Maybe you like sentence fragments too much. Maybe you often find yourself using said or –ly words.

• Make use of Find & Replace.

Every Word Processor these days has a Find & Replace function—take advantage of it!

Say there's a word that you find yourself spelling differently while you edit. Make a note of it, then search for it at the end.

Also make a note to double-check capitalization and punctuation of things you have trouble with. For example, in "Say hi to Mom" and "Say hi to my mom"

• Read aloud.

This is another one that helps everyone; either you read it aloud (mumbling to yourself) or you let your computer or Kindle or something read it to you. This'll help you hear problem areas.

It's also a bit harder to misread that on as of when a computerized voice says it.

Hint #1: Anything that's a tongue-twister to day is confusing to read.

Hint #2: Get out of breath? Your line's too long and it'll lose readers.

Enjoy those 5 methods to help you micro-edit!

(You might've noticed that I didn't mention using a beta reader for this stage. There's a reason for it, and let me tell you: If you don't already know my reason, you aren't an exception to my avoidance of mentioning it. ^_^)

What methods do you use? Any here sound like something you'd like to try?

—Misti

5 Methods for "Big Picture" Editing

One of the banes of self-editing is that you, the author, know what you intended to say, and therefore you have to trick yourself to see what's actually on the page. Every writer's different, so figuring out the best methods for tricking yourself takes practice.)

(And that's in addition to knowing how to edit and being able to edit your own writing, not just others'—because it's always far easier to edit others' work than to edit your own.)

But how on earth can you trick yourself into seeing what's actually on the page rather than what you think is there?

---

5 Methods for "Big Picture" (Macro) Editing:

• Outline your writing arcs.

For a novel, that's character arcs, your relationship arcs, your plot arcs, etc. For non-fiction, that might be your themes throughout the piece.

An "outline" can be anything that charts it out. That might be conventional outline like you used to hand to your teacher, a bullet list like this one, a stack of 3x5 notecards (with one point per card), a mind map (AKA "snowflake"), the keywords in Scrivener… Whatever works best for you to see and verify that your arcs fit how they should.

Each arc must get a new outline, and it's often best to color-code them. Also, each point on the outline needs to indicate where that item is found in the story. (Personally, I like using the keywords in Scrivener for checking my characters, to make sure nobody vanishes for most of the book—like Lallie did in an earlier draft of A Fistful of Fire.)

• Wait before re-reading.

The wait might be a day, a week, a month, a year—whatever works best for you. (But if writing is your business, you'll want to figure out writing methods that let you only need to wait for a day or week. Clients generally won't give you an extra year deadline.)

The wait will help you forget what you intended to write, so you see what's actually there.

This works really well when you write quickly, so the writing gets ditched from your short-term memory, rather than getting etched in your long-term memory. (The problem comes if your rough draft is so rough that you can't understand what you intended to say.)

• Check your writing beats against a formula (like Save the Cat).

Plotting naturally follows particular event or emotional arcs, and even non-fiction has its flow.

There are exceptions and variations, so figuring out where your particular piece of writing fits—or even what formula to use for it—can take work. And then you have to get the mental distance from your work to be able to identify those major events that fit the formula.

If you go this route, spreadsheets with automatic calculations are your friend for tracking down where those events should be—and if you're an avid reader, you've probably internalized plot structure and have hit it more-or-less instinctually.

• Color code everything.

Assign colors to different aspects of the story. If characters are blue, maybe main characters (and their description) are dark blue, and minor characters are light blue.

You could also (or as well) do it also for marking dialogue/description/action.

This doesn't have to be printed out (and is probably better if you don't). MS Word (and other word processing documents, Scrivener included) have highlighter functions. Another benefit to doing it on computer is that you can change the text color, rather than just the highlighter color. Be sure to make a key for what each color means.

• Use a beta reader.

When you can use one (and there's no contract or anything like that blocking you), a beta reader can offer a great second set of eyes.

However, you'll want to start by making sure you find the best beta reader for what you need checked. This may mean using more than one—and different projects might need different types of beta readers. (See my post on how to find beta readers.)

Also, bear in mind that you don't want to take advantage of or abuse folks as beta readers. If you try to get folks to volunteer too much of their time or if you're too pushy, you'll drive your beta readers away and not have any for the next time you need them. Show your appreciation for your beta reader by attempting to match the reader up with a story they'll like.

So there we go: a brief run-down of 5 methods to help you macro-edit.

Do you have any other methods to share? What's your favorite—or which do you think you'd like to try?

—Misti

Proofreading: Checking Your Trail for Roots and Other Obstructions

After covering the types of editing—line editing, copyediting—we get to the stage that's generally under-appreciated (and often overworked and underpaid, but we'll get to that): proofreading.

In our analogy of your story (or other piece of writing) as a nature trail, proofreading is the final check, making sure there aren't any roots obstructing the trail, that everything's clean and smooth and what it should be. The "oops" check.

Proofreading is not an edit.

Proofreading is the final check for errors.

It's fairly common, these days, for people to combine proofreading and copyediting and require employees to do both jobs at the same time…which pretty much defeats the point of proofreading.

Some editors even call their copyediting services "proofreading", either out of their own confusion (because their companies told them they were proofreaders due to proofreaders' lower pay) or out of their clients' confusion (because their clients misunderstand what proofreading and copyediting are, so why bother to educate them on the appropriate jargon?)

Let's back up and define our terms:

Line Editing

makes sure your text flows properly and is grammatically correct (for your writing style).

Copyediting

makes sure your text says what you meant it to say and that its grammar and spelling matches the appropriate house style†

Proofreading

is the "Oops" check for grammar (and, traditionally, formatting) to make sure they match the house style†

For further explanation of why I need these definitions and what "house style" is, see this post.

Look at the name of the step we're talking about: proof reading. It stems from publishing; before something goes to the printing press, a page proof is printed, a mock-up of what it'll look like. The proof reader is a final set of eyes that checks that all is correct by reading the proof.

Meaning the proofreader should be someone who hasn't been involved on other steps in the process, because the proofreader needs to see what's actually on the page rather than what the person thinks is there.

By the time you're on the page proof, everything should be done. The only things being caught should be accidents, like a typo or a margin issue, not outright problems.

But again, proofreaders are often expected to act as copyeditors, finding and fixing outright problems often for half (or less!) of the pay. Some small presses don't even pay, saying that the proofreaders are getting "paid" by reading a free book.

The assumption is that proofreading doesn't take all that long—and in the old-style "oops" check on page proofs, that could be true, because companies often had deadlines and workloads that meant the ones who survived on the job were the fast(er) ones. But…

Proofreading takes longer than reading.

My guess is that proofreading takes at minimum twice as long as reading—not including the time it takes to mark up errors—but my view is skewed: I'm faster than average. I once worked with several hybrid-style copyeditor-proofreaders for a company, all of them with more relevant experience than 20-year-old me had at the time, and they were startled by the quantity I got done. (And Quality Control liked me, so I know I had quality, too.)

If a proofreader just has to worry about the personalization, the formatting, and the order code line—the rest of the piece being canned items—then proofreading is a breeze.

("Canned" means pre-written articles that a company might reuse with permission for multiple clients. They're proofread when written, and the proofreader gets used to how they're supposed to look so she can glance at them to check "Was anything cut off or is a hyphenation wrong?")

But if a proofreader has to carefully verify every paragraph for proper formatting, every sentence for proper punctuation, every word for proper spelling—and then notice the surrounding document's formatting, spacing, and font face to boot—that takes even longer.

(Have I mentioned my old hobby of identifying font faces and font sizes at a glance? There was a reason for it. I'm out of practice, but I'm pretty sure I'm looking at some Helvetica on an envelope on my desk—in bold allcaps, probably size 14 or 16. It's commercially used for the "Important info inside" notice, so I know it's one of the major sans-serif variable-width fonts. It's not Verdana or Impact, and *checks word processor* it isn't Arial—the G is wrong. Per my word processor, Helvetica does look just like it, though it might be size 18; I'd have to print a test page to be sure.)

Anyway, this is a fast proofreader talking, who thinks it takes twice as long to proofread something as it does to read it, not including the time it takes to mark up errors.

Add in copyediting, and the job takes even longer.

Take a 3,000-word short story. That'll take anywhere from 15 minutes to an hour to proofread, and anywhere from an hour to three to edit. (Though if it's going to take much longer than an hour to edit, I think the writer needs a tutor, not an editor.)

In my experience, it's actually faster to mark up errors on paper. But marking errors in a computer file is more convenient for the integration of those corrections into the final product.

As a result, proofreaders have more responsibility, in a way that makes their job take longer, and don't have that reflected in their pay.

So. Let's back up again.

If a proofreader has to see what's actually on the page rather than what she thinks is there, it must be impossible to proofread your own work, right?

Well…

Not necessarily.

It is possible to adequately proofread your own work. (Freelance writers often have to do it.) Not everyone is capable of it. And not everyone who is capable of it wants to take the time and effort to do so, because it's always more difficult to proofread your own work than someone else's.

It is possible to trick yourself into seeing the technicalities of what's actually on the page rather than what you think is there.

But then you have to know what it's supposed to look like, to know when it's wrong. *wink*

We'll jump into techniques for tricking yourself—and, maybe, a checklist of what you'll be wanting to evaluate—on another day.

What do you think of proofreading? Would you prefer to (learn how to?) proofread your own work or prefer hiring someone else to do it?

—Misti

---

I hope you're getting value out of these blog posts. Each one generally takes me an hour or two to write. That's an hour or two that could be spent doing paid work. Blogging doesn't pay any bills.

So if you've found the post valuable, please consider leaving a sign of your appreciation in the tip jar. Thanks!

Copyediting: Making Sure Your Trail's What It's Meant to Be

After covering the types of "little picture" editing and delving into what line editing and content editing are, it's time to address copyediting. Some people use "line editing" and "copy editing" synonymously, so let's review how I'm using it:

copyeditor

makes sure your text says what you meant it to say and that its grammar and spelling matches the appropriate house style†

For further explanation of why I need these definitions and what "house style" is, see this post.

How often have you left a blog comment, only to afterwards realize you accidentally said something wrong? Maybe you said Neil Gaiman doesn't write well when you meant to say he does write well. Or maybe you post something, only to have the vast majority of commenters make you realize that you effectively said something other than what you intended to say.

The sentences work. The paragraphs work. The overall post all work grammatically—

But they say the wrong thing.

That nature trail you've worked so hard on isn't the path you wanted it to be.

That's where copyediting comes in. Flagging "Hey, did you mean to say this?" and "Hey, why did this character's hair change from black to red?" Sometimes, it's even verifying that the author used the word they intended in a phrase.

Notice that the point with copyediting is not "This doesn't make sense," though that can sometimes be a part of it. The point is "Is this what you intended to say?"

For example, to briefly describe the terms, discreet means "located subtly"; discrete means "located separately". The former word is more commonly intended than the latter, so if a writer uses discrete, if either word could be used, I'll ask the author if they intended the more common one.

There won't be anything wrong with the sentence, mind you. I'll just be verifying that you used the word you intended, because a lot of folks don't realize the difference between the two words.

Editors aren't telepathic.

Hint: That lack of telepathy is why editors might sometimes screw up a writer's meaning. Yes, some editors go overboard. Yes, some editors' failure to understand the writer is not the writer's fault. But even a good editor might misunderstand a writer and wreck something.

(And since good editors will, yanno, ask when they aren't sure, that means they were sure that the writer meant that other thing, so something was wrong with the original writing.)

Editors aren't jealousy incarnate.

Okay, some editors might be failed writers and therefore jealous. Might.

Some editors might try to replace your writing style with their own. Might. (Hint: Editors aren't supposed to do that. Ghostwriting practice helps an editor avoid that, in my experience.)

And, to be frank, some writers are clueless if not all-around jerks. (On behalf editors everywhere, please do not send your editor a rough draft!)

Now. After that delving into the first half of copyediting—making sure your text says what you meant it to say—let's look at the other half. What's "house style"?

house style

The publisher's grammar, spelling, and formatting.

If you're self-publishing, that means your preferred grammar, spellings, and formatting choices. (Some grammar rules and spellings differ depending on your book—or on your edition of the book. For example, is it "Chris' toy" or "Chris's toy"? Answer differs depending on if you're using Chicago Manual of Style 15th edition or 16th edition.

If you have a publisher, that means your publisher's preferred grammar, spellings, and formatting choices. Not yours. Your publisher's.

Why? For coherency in what is published.

(Your chapter headers' font size, what you put in scene breaks, that your indents are the same size—those are also part of the "house style", though that's traditionally been more the realm of proofreaders than copyeditors, so we'll delve more into that next week.)

And, sadly, a lot of companies have laid off their copyeditors, have combined the job with proofreading or line editing, or have so downsized their editing departments that they struggle to keep up with the volume.

Which explains some things we often see in what we read, actually.

How are you at copyediting? Do you know any copyeditors? Have you read anything lately that you think could've used a copyeditor?

P.S. Anyone else having problems with bit.ly?

—Misti

---

I hope you're getting value out of these blog posts. Each one generally takes me an hour or two to write. That's an hour or two that could be spent writing fiction. Blogging doesn't pay any bills.

So if you've found the post valuable, please consider leaving a sign of your appreciation in the tip jar. Thanks!

Content & Line Editing: "Paving" Your Nature Trail

Trails need some form of paving to exist. That might be a bunch of folks treading over it, to make the dirt stay through the years. That might be asphalt.

But they need something.

So. Analogies tend to fail at some point, and here's really where my analogy of your story as a nature trail gets a tad wonky, because I'm having to combine content editing (a "big picture" type of edit) with line editing (the most in-depth form of "little picture" edits).

Let's start with the definitions:

Content Editing

makes sure your story's content flows properly and is internally correct (for story coherence).

Line Editing

makes sure your story's text flows properly and is grammatically correct (for your writing style).

For further definitions, see this post.

When you look at them that way, my combination of the two of them in this lesson makes a bit more sense, doesn't it? Content editing could be the decision about what type of paving the nature trail will have, while line editing could be considered the verification that the entire trail is paved that selfsame way.

So. Making sure your plot's logistics make sense? Verifying that your character's red hair doesn't suddenly change to blond for no apparent reason? Analyzing when you need more description, more dialogue, another scene with the two main characters? That's all content editing.

Making sure what's on the page all flows grammatically? That the style works? That your sentence fragments actually are functional, rather than producing choppy writing that's irritating to a reader? Line editing.

Remember my post about the two types of editors? Everyone specializes in either "big picture" or "little picture", and remember above, how content and line editing fall into different "picture size" categories?

That means editors specialize in line editing or content editing.

Can a content editor notice and make recommendations that fall under the realm of content editing? Yes.

Can a line editor notice and make recommendations that fall under the realm of content editing? Yes.

But don't confuse the two tasks, and don't expect the same person to be able to do it all. There is a difference. Editors (and readers) do specialize.

(That's why comments saying "This book needs an editor" can be a pain in the neck. Unless the commenter gives examples, you don't know what they disliked about a story, to know what kind of editor they think it needed—and sometimes, readers pitch fits over things that aren't errors. Case in point: Hart's Hope by Orson Scott Card is intentionally written in an archaic "tell"-heavy style, and I've seen a review that called it bad writing by definition because of that. Er, no. It's just a non-modern style, which fits the non-modern story. Fact is, a lot of things called "bad writing" are merely "bad" to modern sensibilities, sometimes because newbie writers commonly screw them up. Even so, breaking those "rules" tends to be a bad idea unless you're willing to be publicly ridiculed as an idiot. Even Stephanie Meyer's adverb-heavy prose in Twilight did its job of reaching her intended audience.)

/Rabbit trail.

Of two types of editing I'm addressing here, you want to perform content editing first. Remember all those posts I did about structural, plot, character, and setting editing? Those are forms of content editing.

The line gets a bit more blurry when you're looking at transitions. Transitions between chapters. Transitions between scenes. Transitions within scenes. Are they content editing or line editing?

Yes.

Some types of transitions are content editing. (Hey, when did this person enter the hospital? Last I knew, he was in his car.)

Some types of transitions are line editing. (Hey, let's rearrange this sentence so it's in the correct order for what I'm trying to say.)

That blurred line means that you should consciously look at transitions as part of both content and line editing. Is it any wonder that transitions are often a bane of writers? ^_^

Line editing tends to work better when it comes after content editing. (Why spend time cleaning up a scene that's only going to be redone and re-edited?) (Unless you're like me and have trouble seeing content when there are too many typos and line mess-ups.)

Line editing looks at every phrase, every clause, every sentence, every paragraph, every scene—and makes sure the language flows. (And if you don't know the difference between a phrase and a clause, you probably have comma splices and maybe even other types of run-on sentences in your writing. Just saying.)

Line editing also considers writing style issues. Things can be grammatically correct and still be problems.

Take the sentence "His eyes dropped to the table." Grammatically, it's fine. Stylistically, it's not.

Why not? It's inherently unclear: Did his gaze land on the table, or did his eyeballs plop out of his head and land on the table? Some readers will get the first meaning, some the second. Therefore, autonomous body parts shouldn't be in your writing unless they're like Sally's limbs in A Nightmare Before Christmas.

Can you choose to write with autonomous body parts? Sure. You'll cut out a portion of potential readers whose automatic comprehension of something tends to be literal rather than figurative, but you can do it. Will some folks complain about "bad writing"? Probably. Does that complaint make autonomous body parts bad? No.

Autonomous body parts are "bad" because they're inherently unclear.

What's the purpose of writing? To get your point across.

Autonomous body parts interfere with that purpose. That's what's makes them bad writing.

But what if you intend to omit the audience of folks who would be confused by autonomous body parts? Suddenly, there's nothing wrong with them.

A line editor has to keep an eye out for stylistic things like that and catch actual "hard" errors, like dangling modifiers. ("Hard" errors being things that are errors regardless of your genre and intended audience.)

Example: "Falling hard, the table hurt her wrists."

That sentence says that the table fell hard and hurt "her" wrists. The most likely intended meaning is that she fell hard and hurt her wrists on the table. But that's not what the sentence is actually saying.

That makes dangling modifiers a "hard" error.

What do you think of the blurred line between content and line editing? Which type do you think you're geared towards? Do autonomous body parts bother you?

—Misti

---

I hope you're getting value out of these blog posts. Each one generally takes me an hour or two to write. That's an hour or two that could be spent writing fiction. Blogging doesn't pay any bills.

So if you've found the post valuable, please consider leaving a sign of your appreciation in the tip jar. Thanks!

The 3 Types of Grammar Editing

Picking back up in the "Realities of Self-Editing" series that I interrupted in March, we've addressed multiple things you should know even before you start trying to edit your own work, along with editing your story structure, plot, characters, and setting. (We'll dig into specific techniques you'll want to apply when self-editing at another time.)

Now let's leave that "big picture" editing, the macroediting, and turn to the three types of grammar edits: line editing, copyediting, and proofreading. My specialty. ^_^

I say specialty, singular, because when you start talking about the type of edits where grammar is involved, definitions and job descriptions overlap. A line editor can resemble a copyeditor, who can resemble a proofreader. (Note that can.)

There's also some confusion because many publishers have been cutting staff for a while, so some of them rely on proofreaders to be copyeditors, too, or acquisitions editors to do line editing. (All those jobs take slightly different skill sets, and the replaced jobs get paid more than the ones expected to fill in for them.)

So, either out of concession to the general confusion about the job titles or because they're confused themselves, a fair number of professionals have effectually redefined the terms so now any one of those terms can be used to describe line editing.

Here's how I'm describing them:

Line Editing

makes sure your text flows properly and is grammatically correct (for your writing style).

Copyediting

makes sure your text says what you meant it to say and that its grammar and spelling matches the appropriate house style†

Proofreading

is the "Oops" check for grammar (and, traditionally, formatting) to make sure they match the house style†

So over the next three weeks, as I address line editing, copyediting, and proofreading, please bear my definitions in mind.

†What do I mean by "house style"?

Some grammar rules and some appropriate spellings will differ depending on your grammar handbook and dictionary.

So before you attempt any type of grammar edits, you must first decide on a default grammar handbook and dictionary. (I recommend reading the grammar handbook, too.) Here in the US, the usual defaults are the Chicago Manual of Style and the Merriam-Webster dictionary. Some prefer the AP Stylebook and the American Heritage dictionary.

Oh, and if you have specific grammar rules or spellings for which you'd rather use a different source than your primary one? That's fine—

But you will want to make a style sheet listing those specific exceptions, so you can be consistent. (Other things go on such a style sheet, but I'll get into what those things are, what style sheets are, and some examples on how to make them at another time.)

Most folks are a lot worse at this type of editing than they think they are.

That "a lot worse" includes English teachers. I suspect the difficulty stems from the detail that it's always easier to see someone else's errors than it is your own, because you know what you intended to say and do.

But remember that. Editing is a skill. Tricking yourself into seeing what's on the page is a skill. Learning to see what you wrote how it actually reads rather than how you intended it to read is another skill. All of them are skills with limits, because we're all human and imperfect, but they are skills. Different ones.

Don't make the mistake of assuming something's easy for you and thereby making a fool of yourself.

Do you think yourself good at any of the above forms of editing? Does grammar make you want to run screaming? What's your preferred dictionary?

—Misti

A Caveat about Self-Editing

Editing comes in multiple types, and the definitions about those types will differ depending on whom you ask, but something needs to be borne in mind when self-editing:

Writers cannot judge their own level of effectiveness.

That's true for short stories, magazine articles, ad copy—all of it. (I know I've commented on this before, but this wasn't the primary focus of that post, and I want to be clear.)

Writers know what effects they intend to have on the reader. Those intentions affect how writers perceive their own writing.

So while I do believe that some writers can often accurately identify when a piece is effective, and that some writers can identify what prevents a piece from being effective, I do not believe that writers can trust themselves to identify how effective a piece of writing is.

That's why it's important for a writer to have betas, or a trusted "first reader"—one or more persons whose judgment they trust, willing to read their stuff and tell them if it works or not. (Or to tell the writers how their writing works. All of us sometimes come up with things that convey completely the wrong moods from what we intended.)

So if you try self-editing, bear in mind that you still will want at least one set of critical eyes going over your manuscript.

Some writers work best by only having one person be that reader. Others work fine with multiple betas, though betas will often give contradictory advice.

Personally, I find it particularly useful to have a manuscript read by someone outside my personal demographic (be it in age, gender, or religious affiliation), because my demographic affects my perspective. A reader who disagrees with me about life, the universe, etc., will be inclined to catch situations where I'm missing pertinent transitions.

For example, I discovered (after I published "The Corpse Cat") that many folks assume that an intimate relationship between first cousins is necessarily incest, not knowing that it's allowable per some municipalities and even by the book of Leviticus in the Bible.

There's no line addressing that legality in "The Corpse Cat". If I'd realized what a hang-up it would be for some readers, I would've sought a place where I could insert a brief explanation. As things stand, I'll be trying to (briefly) address the legality of it in the sequel to Destiny's Kiss (where Emris and Samhain appear again).

I'd thought I handled the relationship well in "The Corpse Cat". But not for folks for whom it's taboo.

I'd entirely forgotten that first cousin relationships were taboo for many people. I've been used to the concept for some years, starting from when I discovered that some of the folks I knew were married first cousins.

If I'd bothered to send that story through a first reader who didn't match my demographic—which was "people who know first cousin relationships can be legal"—I would've known that before publication.

Do you use one or more beta readers? Have you had situations where someone read your piece and got a completely different message from it than what you intended?

—Misti

Setting Editing: Making Sure Your Trail Exists

You've probably heard this referred to as description. You have to describe enough of the trail of your story for it to:

1. make sense to the reader
2. keep the reader's interest
3. fit your story's point of view (POV)

It's therefore handy to attack the setting (the description) as its own round in editing, particularly if you know it's one of your weak points.

What is setting? Setting is your world (where the entire story's set) and its locations (where each scene occurs).

Let's start with #1:
Your setting has to make sense to the reader.

The setting should make sense to you, the writer. It's your responsibility to convey enough of the setting so it makes sense to the reader, too—and in the proper order.

For example, Evonalé in A Fistful of Fire can produce purple fire with her magic. Since that's not the usual color that's associated with fire in the real world, I had to make sure that the fire's color was mentioned immediately the first time she did it. I couldn't wait until the end of the scene and have it as a punch line. At that point, it would've confused the reader.

For an example I didn't write, take The Emperor's Edge by Lindsay Buroker. The capital city, where most of the stories take place, is nicknamed "Stumps" because centuries before, a reputably insane emperor ordered all religious statues beheaded… and that's something that's mentioned the first time the MC encounters a headless statue in the story, and only then. Otherwise, the detail wouldn't have fit.

(By the way, The Emperor's Edge is free, and I recommend the series for anyone who likes Patricia Briggs's traditional fantasy.)

That brings us to #2:
Your setting must keep the reader's interest.

That means it has to fit the context, like the aforementioned explanation of "Stumps." It also has to be suitably short and interesting.

In other words, don't write an essay or a shopping list—or a tirade about the evils of child slavery. (See the next point for an exception.)

Give your readers some credit; they have imaginations, too. A story is also not a movie. The reader needs to see the details they won't assume, not every single detail. (For more on that, see Janice Hardy's recent post.)

Exceptions to the above points come from #3:
Your setting must fit your story's POV.

Your choice of narrator will color how you must describe things. An omniscient narrator or "distant" POV is more difficult, because the narrator's barely there, so you have to carefully balance and consider what the narrator needs to say and what the author wants to say.

If you write with a "close" POV—meaning everything, even the narrative, is filtered through the POV character's "head" and "voice"—then you can get away with a lot more. You still must be careful to ensure that things fit and that the description stays interesting, but the character's "voice" help it be interesting.

For example, take the character River Tam from Firefly (TV series) and Serenity (movie). I could describe her as a young woman, a savant, who's been surgically altered by the government to be a telepathic fighter, who lacks mental shielding and whose doctor of a brother gave up everything to rescue her and try to keep her safe. That's short, gets the gist, but it also sounds a little like a dossier.

If I were to describe River Tam in one of the Destiny Walker books, Destiny would probably say something along the lines of: "River Tam: neurotic teen with extraordinary reflexes and killing ability. Sounds like me."

Destiny wouldn't really be interested in Simon (River's brother) or in the Hands of Blue (the folks who messed River up). So having her mention one of those two wouldn't "fit" her POV.

Do you tackle the editing for your setting? Do you find it easier to establish setting for the "world" itself (big picture) or for each individual scene (little picture)? Do you prefer writing and reading a "distant" (formal) or "close" (informal) POV?

—Misti

Patterns in the English Language

English is a "melting pot" language. Though it can be summarized as having a Latinate vocabulary with Germanic grammar, that's an oversimplification.

There's a reason English is often called one of the most difficult languages in the world to learn for a non-native speaker. While I'm not entirely fluent in Spanish, and though I'm out of practice, I can still hear when a particular verb will be an exception to the conjugation rules, even when I can't remember how to properly conjugate it.

English isn't so simple. Even exceptions have exceptions, as in "I before e; except after c or when sounding like ay, as in neighbor or weigh—weird, agreed?

There are, however, patterns to English grammar. Commas, for instance, often work in pairs. (I intentionally structured the previous two sentences to demonstrate that.) A sentence always begins with a capital letter (which leads to the rule that any number at the beginning of a sentence must be spelled out, not in Arabic numerals). A sentence always has ending punctuation.

There are even patterns to the spelling of word families. For example, a lot of French-origin nouns have a masculine and feminine form, with the feminine denoted by an e on the end. Blond (male)/blonde (female), fiancé (male)/fiancée (female), and debutant (male)/debutante (female) are the three I encounter most often.

So when you're editing or spelling things, look for patterns.

They do exist.

Watch for them. It might just help you understand the English language better.

And frankly, I also find it helpful to think in terms of patterns when I'm picking up words in a foreign language or when I'm creating a fictional language.

Have you ever noticed patterns in the English language? Are there any you find particularly useful?

—Misti

Self-Editing and the Rule of Two

Continuing the "Realities of Self-Editing" series, have you heard of the rule of two, that it's best to keep no more than two paragraphs of the same type beside each other? Jami Gold recently reminded me about it.

This guideline works as a general rule of thumb for many genres, fiction and non-fiction alike. The goal is to keep things 1) clear and 2) interesting for the reader.

The paragraph "type" is its function: dialogue, narrative, action, exposition, thoughts, backstory, etc. (Note that in non-fiction, things like definition, explanation, and quotation apply.)

So, do you have more than two paragraphs of dialogue in a row? There should probably be some action or POV emotion in there.

Have you a block quote in your essay? Does it truly need to be that long?

Some genres and audiences can go beyond the rule of two for particular types of paragraphs. High fantasy, for example, can be heavier on the description and exposition, while a thriller might go above and beyond on the backstory.

The rule of two is simple. Applying it, though, can be a bit more difficult.

First, you have to know what your intended audience will expect and accept.

Second, you have to be able to see the different paragraph types. Some folks eyeball it. Others use different-colored highlighters to mark every piece of their text according to what type it is. (This highlighted copy might be a print copy, or it might be a draft that's in their word processor, taking advantage of the highlighter function.)

Most likely, you'll have some type(s) of paragraphs that you're prone to overusing, and others you're prone to underusing. The POV you write in can influence this.

But there's a way to help yourself write more balanced text, and here's the most efficient method I've found: Make yourself write a short story in the opposite extreme.

For example, I'm prone to text that's heavy on the dialogue and light on the setting. (You should see the original version of A Fistful of Fire.) When I realized that, I made myself write a short story that's almost all monologue and description.

That short story's actually how I got started writing scripts, since I was struggling with one aspect of it and my English professor at the time said I'd combined short story and playwriting techniques. I had no clue how to write a play, so I signed up for the playwriting class, the following term. And therein discovered I'm pretty good at scripts.

Writing a short story in the opposite extreme does a world of good. I'm actually due for writing another one.

Do you use the rule of two or some other rule of thumb when looking at your writing? Can you think of genre exceptions to the rule of two?

—Misti

*Explanation is not a paragraph type and should be avoided, unless you're writing a Sherlock Holmes-type mystery. Even then, be careful not to overdo it.

Character Editing: The Features of Your Nature Trail

Character editing could be considered either "big picture" editing or "little picture" editing, depending on what aspect of the character(s) you're editing.

First is the question "Does this character work?" For my first expanded draft of A Fistful of Fire, the answer was "No." Evonalé was downright whiny, as one friend told me when she couldn't get through the first section.

That whining happened because I had too much paranoia in there, too much of one feature. It's like having a nature trail that's in a forest, but 90% of the trees are all oaks. Some folks will still enjoy it just because they like trees, but people tend to prefer some variety in what they see.

And then there's the question "Does this line work?" This question comes in when you're giving the characters individual voices, their own preferred words, their own vocal quirks*—and when you're making sure that the character's coming across the way you intended.

I had to ask that question in every paragraph and line of every scene as I edited A Fistful of Fire so Evonalé wouldn't be unbearably whiny. But even that is a little-picture application of a big-picture edit.

Writing Destiny's Kiss put me face-to-face with the "little picture" form of "Does this line work?":

With what's already in the scene, does this line go overboard?

Destiny's Kiss features a vampire, Ambrogino Romazzo, who's… an unusual blend of traits, in part because he's had to raise his little sister, who's the narrator's age. The narrator has to figure out if he's a nice guy or a creep, and one little line garnered beta comments that it went too far in the wrong direction.

Granted, I've also received "Ick!" comments on the pair of first cousins who are also a couple in "The Corpse Cat". Folks' "too much" meters differ from each other, but too much of anything will wreck your character.

Nice contradiction there, no?

All you can do is make sure the features balance out and don't all congregate in a particular section. Vary up the oak trees with maple and apple and shrubbery—and intersperse them appropriately, so the reader doesn't get distracted by a sudden willow when no creek's been built to water it.

Having a trusted first reader of a different upbringing than you can help find these sorts of problems—because folks with your same upbringing will probably make the same assumptions you do, understand things the same way, so they won't catch when you leave out character motivations and such—they'll understand what you meant.

At least, folks with similar upbringing to you will be more likely to understand what you meant.

Have you ever read something where a single aspect or line made the character not work? What about written something where something made the character come across differently than how you wanted? Who caught it?

—Misti

*For an example with fantastic individual voices for the characters, I recommend Chime by Franny Billingsley.

Plot Editing: Your Muse's Nature Trail Type(s)

Last week, we discussed—well, I monologued on—structural editing, comparing it to the paint that marks a nature trail. Another form of "big picture" editing is plot editing, which can be compared to determining the type of trail your muse follows.

Plot editing has one goal: to answer yes to the question "Do the events of this piece of writing line up?"

Does each event naturally lead to the other? Was anything forced? Was anything missing?

One way to find missing parts, by the way, is to look at each event and consider what would happen if that event occurred elsewhere, elsewhen, or to someone else. What else could or would or should result?

For example, let's say one character kills someone. What's the logical result in real life? The authorities find the body, and there's an investigation, maybe some arrests and a trial. If that standard due process doesn't happen, why not? Is killing legal in that story "world"? Was it somewhere nobody would know? Maybe the character is one of the authorities, who killed someone in the line of duty (which has its own set of "logical results" that stem from it).

If your story deviates from standard perceptions of reality (insofar as they are standard), you need to know it, and your story has to support and explain it.

That means you also need causes and effects, so you also want to look at every event in your story and make sure they fit. You might not reveal everything in order, but it does have to occur in order.

I could name one traditionally published novel* where the protagonist is (presumably) more aggressive than usual—before the event that the book later gives as the cause for her unusually high aggression. Personally, I suspect that error was added in the editing. But as a reader, I find myself reluctant to try the author again, even though I think it was her debut novel and it had a few more signs of probable editing damage.

Plot editing, paying attention to the order of things, is meant to avoid situations like that.

There's a reason that skittish little Evonalé pretty much kicks and screams in the end of A Fistful of Fire**; but that fit of temper had causes, which appear in the story, and even her temper itself doesn't come out of nowhere.

(Yes, I realize I'm overlapping "plot editing" with "character editing", here. They're intertwined.)

To include that event—Evonalé losing her temper and pitching a fit—I had to set up previous events that demonstrated: 1) she had a temper; 2) she would blow her top over certain things, despite her skittishness; 3) the ending event was one of those things; 4) she would display her fit of temper that way; and 5) the ending event would actually happen. (Which required quite a bit of setup that I can't say for spoiler reasons—but a political and several previous character events connect to that one.)

So that fairly straightforward plot event required a minimum of 5 things, depending on how you look at it.

This "plot editing" applies to non-fiction, too. Cause and effect must line up.

So look at each plot as a trail. Does the trail go back down the same mountain it took you up? Is there a bridge over that stream? Are there gaps in the trail? Does it ever fold back and double up or mysteriously go back over the same bit of terrain?

To be sure, stories can be more complex than nature trails, and they can repeat and double up on themselves like a nature trail can't. Being limited to three-dimensional space, you can't spontaneously walk over the same patch of ground twice without circling around or changing direction. A story, though, has no such physical limitations.

That means it can be a bit tricky, for some books, to figure out when you have a functional trail that connects properly, and when you have redundancies that don't quite work.

But here's the trick: Even redundancies are parts of a linear trail.

Meaning, even though a story trail might have lines or bits that look like they're going over the same bit of ground again, they can't actually be doing that—it has to be a point later on the trail. It might resemble the previous one, or it might even mirror something that's come before, but it must still move the story forward.

Depending on your particular story, that might move things just a hair. But it must move forward.

If your story has multiple timelines, each storyline is its own trail. But each trail has to intersect or at least be in view of each others at the right points.

How on earth do you do that?

You could outline each storyline, possibly even more than once, to make sure they fit together properly. You could set up timelines. Personally, I like 3x5 cards, which you can line up and rearrange so nicely.

But honestly, I personally tend to wing this one, going by instinct for when I need to break it down and look more closely. And that's because I haven't found a method that stops my obsessive side.

When I really get into it, I try to make the structural numbers of my story mean something. For example, due to the major event in Destiny's Kiss being a 17th birthday, I tried to get it into 17 chapters.

Fortunately, I've managed to control that obsessively nitpicky side of me enough that I can ditch those urges if I can't easily indulge them. (That's also why I tend to be oblivious about dust and mess, actually—because otherwise, I get obsessive about how it should be. And then very little gets done because I'm fighting to make it perfect.)

I still want to write a story that perfectly parallels word counts and contains a meaningful number of chapters, though.

Do you edit your writing with an eye for cause and effect? Do you have any other techniques to share?

—Misti

*I'm not naming the author to be polite. I know of other folks who enjoy her, and I did really like one of her related short stories. She writes some memorable characters.

**I am not calling my debut novel perfect. Nor am I saying that it's an ideal example. It's just one that I know intimately, and I've had more than one reader comment positively on how everything draws together and mention that scene specifically.

Structural Editing: Your Muse's Trail Markers

We've already addressed editing before you write, as well as the two different types of editing.

Now let's look into one type of "big picture" editing: structural editing.

Picture your story as a nature trail. Some trails are easier than others. Some are more straightforward than others. Some only need you to walk in a straight line, while on others, you have to hop across a river on some rocks.

Some trails are easy to see, but most (at least in my experience in the southeastern US) will have a specific paint color and pattern marking the trail every so often, on trees or cliffs or whatever is handy at an alert point.

That trail-marking paint is the structure for the trail. The markers must line up and be placed appropriately, for those who follow the trail must know where to turn when the trail curves and bends, or when it meets up for a time with another trail. The markers must also match the trail you're on—you don't want the markers defining the novice trail on a trail that features 6 days of hiking over rough terrain.

Your story's structure is like those markers. The structure defines the path of your novel—and it often lets the reader know what they're reading. And it makes sure that your story is, in fact, a story and not some random blob.

One easy example of the structure as "markers" is in the x-act structure. (X being 3 or 4 or however many acts you like to use.) Those different points in that structure provide trail markers to ensure that your story actually has a plot.

Plot is conflict. There's a protagonist and an antagonist who are at odds, whose goals each interfere with the other's even if they're not contradictory. The protagonist might be trying to find and save her sister, while the antagonist is trying to seize power using those like the protag's sister (referring to The Shifter by Janice Hardy). Or the antagonist might be a coming flood that's going to wipe out the valley, and the protagonist has to find her daughter, who's aquaphobic, and get her to come outside into the storm so they can evacuate before the flood comes.

Plot = conflict = story.

Well, sort of. Fans of vignettes and flash fiction see story when there's no plot, but I'm talking about the standard definitions for the majority of English readers. A writer who ignores story convention might find some folks who love her for it, but she'll still get dissed.

Shoot, even folks who know what they're doing and break the writing "rules" (of thumb) will get readers who sniff and say they have no clue what they're doing. For example, there's an Amazon review for Hart's Hope by Orson Scott Card that says "a great storyteller will SHOW me not TELL me what is going on"—as if "telling" itself is an illegitimate style. (If you've not read that book, the style is an integral part of the story.)

"Telling" can be used properly, by the way.

But this means that the "trail markers" of structure for your particular story will depend on your particular piece of writing. If you're intentionally writing a vignette, you'll have different trail markers than a short story. And a blog post will have different trail markers from a how-to article or a research paper.

Different genres also have markers specific to each genre. The two lead characters must always be introduced to the reader early in a romance novel, for example—that's a structural marker that "I am a romance!" Mysteries must always have the crime early in the book if not at the actual beginning, and they also tend to feature red herrings. (Rabbit trails that make you think someone else "dun it".)

So the first step to structural editing: make sure your trail markers match your intent for the story—and that they line up in an appropriate order.

Make sense?

Can you think of other types or examples of "trail markers" for writing? Have you used this type of evaluation in something you've written?

—Misti

Orient Your Muse: Edit Before You Write

If you're any kind of writing perfectionist, someone's helpfully chimed "You can't fix what's not on the paper." I might even be the one who said it.

And it's true: You can't fix prose that's not on the page.

But if your story idea is going in completely the wrong direction, wouldn't it be nice to figure that out before you spend those weeks writing it?

Thought so.

I had a similar problem when I was trying to start writing A Fistful of Earth. (Yes, that one's given me about every type of trouble you can imagine.) I couldn't figure out why it felt like such a mass of… mush, when I thought about it.

So I tried the method of writing the blurb before I wrote the story, which worked. A Fistful of Earth has 3 major events going on, and I had to figure out which one the story was really about: the political problems, the family problems, or the love story.

Yes, it's still all 3, but writing the blurb helped me untangle which were the actual story and which were only what the narrator thought was going on. (That comment will make sense once the book comes out. Or at least it should.)

Now, no two writers are exactly alike. But sometimes, everyone can benefit from a little story analysis before they sit down to write that story. The question is, what are your particular strengths and weaknesses as a writer, and what methods work for checking your weak spots?

So. What techniques can a writer use to make sure a story's ready to be written? (Note: when I say "outline," I'm referring to all types of outlines: sentence outlines, topical outlines, numbered outlines, bullet outlines, cork board plans, note card plans, etc.)

• The gut check: Does the story excite you? No? That's a major problem sign, right there, even if the problem is that you fear you'll screw up that idea.
• The elevator pitch: Figure out the "elevator pitch" for your story or book: one sentence that sums it up. Jami Gold really has the definitive post compiling all possible pitch sentence types, as of February 2012. (Specifying because you never know when someone will top it.)
• The cover blurb: Write for your story or non-fiction piece. Pitches are short, probably 2–3 paragraphs long, and capture the primary conflict of the story or the primary focus and intention of the piece. (This can also be what goes in the query letter.)
• The structural outline: Take a basic outline of the points involved in 3-act structure (or however many "acts" you want to use) and make sure your story fits the structure before you start writing it.
• The rough outline: Outline down your goals for the story, which may involve the plot, characters, situations, themes, etc. Make sure they match up. If your theme is that some sins can't be forgiven, making your MC a devout Christian who's theologically required to forgive his enemies may not work—or it might, depending on other details involved.
• The detailed outline: Organize your entire story before you write it, breaking it down as far as you want, making sure that each chapter or scene (or however far you've broken it down) naturally leads into the next one.
• The idea tests: Jot down all your ideas for scenes, etc., to have in the story, even the contradictory ones. Arrange the ones that fit best for the story you want to tell, fill in the gaps, and put the ditched ones aside in case you need them later. (This one seems like it would be easiest with note cards.)
• The research test: Research your idea, whether that means conducting the data research or researching comparable stories (or books). The author's goals will determine if a lack or a surplus of results is better. (For example, if 4,747 people already wrote books comparable to what the author has in mind, she might be pleased at the evidence of a market, or displeased that it's such a well-tapped niche.)

That's all the pre-evaluation methods I'm familiar with, just now, but then again, I only started doing this recently.

Have you ever evaluated something you were to write before you sat down and wrote it? (School papers count.) What method(s) did you use? What worked for you? Do you have any not-listed methods to share?

—Misti