The Agony and the Ecstasy of Being Edited

The manuscript for my 3rd novel, a work of women’s fiction, which I’ve ahem, mentioned before, was submitted to my editor about 3 months ago and I’ve been not-so-patiently waiting for feedback. It’s not like I’m an editing virgin.

I’ve been through the wringer after submitting pages to Meetup writers’ groups; critique partners; freelance editors, whom I actually paid to torture me; and editors at the publishers for my first two books. I constantly hear tales from other authors signed with one of the “Big 5”publishers about how unusual it is for editors there to take a deep dive into their manuscripts and give detailed feedback. But, based on conversations with other authors signed with my current publisher, which is smaller, I expected this experience to be more intense.

And it was. But in an awesome way.

The call with my editor was set for a Monday, giving me the weekend to stew. While being edited is not new for me, having an “official” call was a first. Before, edits have just been sent via e-mail and the rest was pretty much up to me. A call was optional.

She did email me 2 documents just prior to our call—my full manuscript with comments embedded and—are you ready—a 33-page document (single-spaced, mind you) with overarching comments and a chapter-by-chapter rundown. My initial reaction was, as you might have guessed, sheer panic combined with writer’s depression. My story sucks! I suck! She’s sent me 33 pages of what needs to be changed and it’s everything! 

Before the tome appeared in my inbox, I had told myself I would bite my tongue and not get defensive about her comments and suggested edits. I had experienced enough of those situations with other writers, where you end up spending more time listening to the writer’s justifications than actually figuring out how to make their story better. But, I also told myself that I had spent the better part of 2 years writing this story, how could I not stand my ground on at least some of her criticisms. 

But, fellow writers, the call went nothing like I expected. She was lovely and she said she loved, loved my story and she admitted to me that she cried. (Score!) Even when she was telling me what she thought didn’t work or needed improvement, she managed to make it sound like a compliment. That’s a wonderful skill for an editor to have.

The 33 pages were not filled with criticisms as I had feared. They were filled with her observations as she pointed out strengths, as well as posed questions and made suggestions in. every. single. chapter. That’s not to say that some of her spot-on comments weren’t painful. I’m still trying to figure out how to repair my timeline and pump up a couple of subplots that she pointed out needed TLC. But, I walked away feeling like she cared about my characters as much as I did and that she had their best interests (and, of course, and my readers’) at heart.

Here are a couple of examples of her input:

Strengths—”This is a great opening chapter. It is vivid and urgent and draws the reader into the story with force.”

“The mother/daughter relationship has a solid foundation as does the family dynamic and Deb’s role of protector.”

Suggestions and/or Questions (note she made a point of not calling them “weaknesses)—“I recommend reviewing the dialogue and looking for places that can be tightened up to keep the pacing up through this chapter.”

“I recommend not setting this memory apart. When she comes out of the recollection it is seamless and fluid. I think segueing into this memory will make it less of a side note.”

Many of her suggestions and questions were quite specific, including several timeline issues, which I won’t bore you with, but they mattered to her, which made me incredibly happy. I felt like she knew and cared about my characters and their lives as much as I did. 

The process of improving my story has just begun, but I feel confident that armed with my editor’s wisdom, it has a better chance of making its way into readers’ hearts. My only wish for you is to have an editing experience like mine, where you walk away knowing what needs to be changed, fixed, or tweaked and feeling incredibly pumped to dig in and get it done before you send your hard-earned words out into the world of readers.

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Densie Webb (not Denise) has spent a long career as a freelance nonfiction writer and editor, specializing in health and nutrition, and has published several books on the topic. She grew up in Louisiana, spent 13 years in New York City, and settled in Austin, TX, where it’s summer nine months out of the year. She is an avid walker (not of the dead variety, though she adores zombies, vampires and apocalyptic stories), drinks too much coffee, and has a small “devil dog” that keeps her on her toes. She has arrested development in musical tastes and her two grown children provide her with musical recommendations on a regular basis.

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The fiction bug bit her several years ago and she now has two novels, You’ll Be Thinking of Me, published by Soul Mate Publishing, and Le Reméde, published by Wild Rose Press. She is under contract with Red Adept Publishing for her third novel, a work of women’s fiction, tentatively titled, “When Robins Appear.” She also recently had her essay: “Boob Job Regrets: In Appreciation of Your Previously Small Chest,” included in an anthology compiled by Randy Susan Meyers, titled Women Under Scrutiny: An Anthology of Truths, Essays, Poems, Stories & Art. All proceeds from the anthology go to Rosie’s Place in Boston, a sanctuary for poor and homeless women. And her flash fiction piece, The Prank, was in the top ten finalists for Women on Writing’s Summer 2019 Flash Fiction contest.

Website: www.densiewebb.com

Facebook: Densie L. Webb

Twitter: @dlwebb

Email: densiewebb@gmail.com

 

Le Remède, Densie Webb

Andie Rogé craves control like some people crave chocolate. But she can’t control her feelings when she encounters Vincent Dubois at Lizzie Borden’s Bar.

Tortured by blood lust that has ruled him for almost two hundred years, Vincent is unprepared for the pull he feels toward Andie. He can only surrender to what he knows is fate.

Offered a cure from a rare black orchid, he faces an agonizing choice—take the only dose and join Andie in the human life he so deeply desires or give the cure to his Kindred brother to stop his bloody rampage. Fate brought them together but will it destroy their chance at a future?

BUY THE BOOK HERE

 

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