A great substantive or developmental editor can be a writer’s best friend. However, I understand that it isn’t always easy for the writer to believe that during the process of editing.
I first wrote Grandfather Poplar as a short story in 1989. At the time, I was fortunate to receive developmental criticism of the original piece from a Hugo and Nebula Award winner. He gave me brilliant suggestions and encouraged me to turn the lengthy short story into a novel. His advice led to more robust characterization and a more compelling story, and I am grateful to this day for the insights he shared.
Fast forward to years later when I finally prepared the novel for publication. I worked with a copy editor who also did content/substantive editing. Even though I am adept at copy editing, I know well that it is impossible for a writer to find all of her or his own mistakes. Omitted words are in your head, you see. Those properly spelled words that are wrong by only one letter (hot/hit, few/fee, in/on, of/off, etc.) are invisible because you know what is supposed to be there; therefore, that is what you view on the page. I was shocked at the many little things my copy editor found, and I was thankful that the book received this fine-toothed comb to remove the errors I as the writer had missed.
For the most part, I felt equally grateful for the substantive editing work. However, I got a piece of criticism that was hard to accept. My editor told me that my first chapter wasn’t strong enough and needed to have more tension in order to entice my readers. This struck me to the core. I was attached to that chapter. I had rewritten it multiple times and edited it again and again over the course of years. My heart said, “It is perfect. My editor is crazy.”
After feeling hurt and disappointed that my elegantly-written book opening elicited anything less than glowing remarks, I spent a few days away from the project and returned with the intention of reading the beginning of the novel as someone other than the writer. When I did, I recognized the truth in this criticism. While there were many important things introduced in that former first chapter, there was not enough substance to compel the reader to continue into the story. It lacked urgency, action, suspense—oomph.
The new first chapter that was prompted by my content editor brought more life to the beginning of the book, and I feel it is far superior to the previous opening. The old first chapter didn’t go away, of course. It simply became chapter two.
There were other changes as well. This was just one example. To my authors I say, “I have been where you are.” I know how much a writer can benefit from substantive editing (as well as copy editing), but I also understand how it feels when someone tells you that you need to alter material you hold dear to your heart and mind. As a content and developmental editor, I approach my writers with that compassion and knowing that comes from being one who deeply grasps both the perspective of writer and editor.
If I suggest cuts or massive rewrites, I do so with one intention: making your work the best it can be. I realize that this manuscript is your “baby,” and I’m here to be the best midwife possible in the birth of that beloved book, to usher you through those labor pains to the desired result. I want you to receive the glowing reviews that every writer covets. It would be my utmost joy to see your work ranked among the bestsellers. That’s why I do what I do.