Category Archives: Editing

A Sensitive Topic—Sensitivity Readers

You’ve heard of various types of editors. You’ve heard of beta-readers. But what’s a sensitivity reader? Should you hire one?

Societal Change

Let’s set the scene by reviewing recent history. In the past, a majority white and male-oriented culture prevailed in America. White, male writers often wrote about characters of other races, and female characters of any race, in a negative way, with prose full of stereotypes, misogyny, and racism. The reading public accepted this. I’m not excusing this, just stating it.

In recent years, we’ve seen a change. Readers seek stories depicting authentic women and people of color. They’ve rebelled against writing that falls short of that standard, often getting offended by it, and have broadcasted those opinions on social media, giving rise to ‘cancel culture.’

Publishers, noticing the changing market, have sought manuscripts with more realistic portrayals. The pendulum has swung the other way, and publishers often prefer stories with women and people of color as the heroes, and white males as the bad guys. Some publishers have extended this preference beyond the text, to the author. They sometimes favor manuscripts written by writers belonging to formerly marginalized groups out of a belief that only they can portray such characters in a non-offensive way.

Running Scared

For a time, a cloud of fear hung over the industry. White, male writers feared being cancelled, even rejected by publishers due to a gender and skin color they couldn’t change. Publishers, with predominantly white editors, feared cancellation, since even one book not meeting the standard could spell financial doom.

A Solution?

Into this fray strode ‘sensitivity readers.’ Like beta readers, they’ll review your manuscript and offer advice to improve it. But they specialize in identifying stereotypes, offensive phrases, and dialogue, and signs of bias against formerly marginalized people. They typically charge for this service.

The Backlash

A harsh reaction arose over the existence of, and need for, sensitivity readers. Accused of censorship and dictatorial gatekeeping, sensitivity readers would, some thought, act like thought police, rendering all writing bland and dull.

Backlash Against the Backlash

Supporters of sensitivity readers dismissed accusations of censorship, asserting that such readers only make recommendations. The author remains responsible for the writing, and the publisher remains responsible for the book’s publication. A sensitivity reader won’t certify your manuscript as cancel-proof, any more than an editor can guarantee no lingering grammatical mistakes or misspellings.

Rewriting the Past

The advent of sensitivity readers to help with manuscripts before publication coincides with a new and related phenomenon. Publishers now hire sensitivity readers as editors to put out revised editions of existing books, works once deemed acceptable, but now considered offensive by some. They’ve cleansed these revised versions of objectionable content. This has occurred to the works of Roald Dahl, Ian Fleming, and R.L. Stine.

The practice sparked controversy when it began, with critics taking umbrage at altering classics in the name of wokeness.

Today

Much of the uproar over sensitivity readers had died down. They stand as one more resource available to authors. Such readers perform a service, but responsibility remains with the writer and publisher, as it had before.

As for altering previously published works, the outrage here, too, shall pass. So long as (1) the book states that text has been changed from the original to suit modern tastes, (2) the original version remains available for purchase, and (3) no violation of copyright laws occur, there seems little harm. It’s akin to publishing abridged versions of long works, or revising very old works into modern English.  

Readers Rule

To me, it’s all about delighting, educating, or fascinating the reader. It’s always been about that since writing began. (Here I’m talking about writers who seek to have their work read, not those who write only for themselves.) If sensitivity readers help an author’s work connect better with today’s reading audience, I’m fine with them. As a writer, you’re free to use this available resource or not, and free to accept the resulting recommendations or not.

Come to think of it, maybe a sensitivity reader should have reviewed this post before its publication by—

Poseidon’s Scribe

April 7, 2024Permalink

Decrypting Critique Comments

When you seek comments about your writing from others, sometimes the feedback will confuse you. What do you do about that?

Feedback can come from critique groups, beta readers, editors, or anyone whom you’ve asked for a review. Often busy with their own lives, these commenters might, in their haste, provide comments you don’t understand.

They may just leave a question mark without explanation, or give you vague advice, such as ‘reword this’ or ‘this bothered me for some reason.’ Worse, their hand-written remarks might be illegible.

As you go through your manuscript incorporating their suggestions, how do you proceed when you encounter confusing feedback? Should you ignore it, dismissing it as irrelevant? After all, if they can’t take the time to give you useful comments, why should you waste time deciphering their code?

I recommend you take such comments seriously.

The most certain way to get the strange comment decrypted is to ask the commenter to explain it. Ask the person, “You wrote [whatever it was]. What did you mean?” Such direct communication should clear up the matter, or the critiquer might not recall the comment. Either way, you’re no worse off and possibly ahead of the game.

If you can’t get back in touch with the reviewer, or if doing so doesn’t clarify things, I still urge you not to dismiss the comment. For cryptic observations, it sometimes helps to revisit them a day or two later. A fresh look and some deeper thought might reveal the comment’s meaning in a useful way.

In his book Novelist as a Vocation, author Haruki Murakami gave interesting advice on what to do about comments with which you disagree. I think his guidance also applies to comments you don’t understand.

Murakami recommends making a change of some sort to your manuscript. If you disagree with the comment, you need not comply with the commenter’s suggestion, but make a change to some third way (different from both your original text and the reviewer’s proposed revision) with an eye toward improving readability.

His rationale recognizes that the reviewer did take the time to read your manuscript. As they did so, something tripped them up. Something yanked them out of your story. Since that happened to one critiquer, it could happen to one or many readers if you get your story published unchanged.

As I mentioned, this advice also works for confusing or illegible comments. In these cases, review your text again while imagining you’re a first-time reader. Read it aloud. You may well discover what the critiquer meant. Even if not, consider making a change intended to lessen confusion and enhance understanding.

Even the most bewildering comments can result in improvement to your stories, and those of—

Poseidon’s Scribe

November 12, 2023Permalink

Terrible First Drafts Reconsidered

A while back, I wrote a post urging writers to create terrible first drafts of their stories. I received some push-back from a writer/editor friend and figured I’d share that perspective.

In my post, I suggested you write first drafts in free-flow mode, unconstrained by your inner editor. Go at a breakneck pace, letting the passion and enthusiasm for the story carry you along. You can fix the manuscript in later drafts, but it’s difficult to get the passion back if you lose that.

My friend thought differently, and likened writing to making clay pots on a potter’s wheel. What follows are the points my friend made in countering my advice, summarized and put in my own words:

  • One process won’t work for all writers, and not even for the entirety of a single writer’s career.
  • I passed through many stages of writing, including creating horrible first drafts. It’s like shaping clay on a potter’s wheel. The first time, you end up with blobs of clay all over the art studio.
  • Over time, I developed the skill to shape the clay without spattering, to produce first drafts akin to what had been 3rd, 5th, or 7th drafts before. This new mindset took a lot of practice.
  • Even now, I sometimes have to sit back and gaze at my first draft with a critical eye to spot and fix flaws. But it’s usually no more than cosmetic changes—adding the final glaze to the clay pot.
  • Writing a good first draft keeps me from falling out of love with the story. It speeds the whole writing process and avoids the common problem of self-doubt and self-loathing some writers experience.
  • I no longer dread the editing process. Since I have less to do, it isn’t the colossal task it once was.  
  • I have conserved a writer’s most precious resource—time. In writing good first drafts, I now use the saved time to write the next story, or to edit the next anthology.
  • All writers, I believe, can and should try to reach this stage. After all, a good writer studies other aspects of the craft and strives to improve. Why not accept the challenge of writing better first drafts? You may find you can create a first draft at high speed, lost in the white-hot heat of inspiration, while still producing quality prose.
  • I suggest not leaving a lot of editing for later. Edit on the fly. That includes spelling, grammar, character name changes, whatever.
  • If you need to do some research, don’t leave that for later. Set a timer for ten minutes and do a quick Internet search. Chances are, you’ll find enough information for now, and the quick research will aid you in later sections of your story, too.
  • Some writers worry their voice, style, or tone will change as they write their book. Not me. I warm up for each day’s writing by reviewing the last few pages to get my brain tuned to the story, so my writing stays consistent. That review is another opportunity to perform minor edits, too.
  • If you work at making good first drafts, you’ll save both time and aggravation. You’ll no longer spend 90% of your time re-writing.

That’s my friend’s advice. I still think beginning writers shouldn’t beat themselves up about terrible first drafts. However, I agree it’s good to strive for more polished early drafts as you hone your craft.

My first drafts have improved over time, but this blogpost endured a few editing sessions at the keyboard of—

Poseidon’s Scribe

February 27, 2022Permalink

How to Incorporate Critique Comments

You sent your story manuscript—your precious package of prose—to some writer friends for comment. It’s come back, littered with suggestions. Your ‘friends’ just called your baby ugly!

Sad to say, you’d better get used to this. You’ll have to toughen up. First, before you tackle those comments, remind yourself that those friends were addressing your story, not you personally. They want you to succeed, and figure you’d rather hear the harsh truth from them than to undergo many dozens of rejections by editors.

Once you’ve taken that aboard, begin looking through the comments. Some may be editorial change suggestions. Others may be comments or questions in the margins. Still others may be overall impressions.

Whatever form they are, take each one seriously. After all, your friends went through your story as a reader will, word by word without knowing what comes next. The text might not conjure the same picture in their minds as you had when you wrote the story. They only have the words you’ve written, not the ideas you intended to convey.

What made sense to you might have confused them. The alternative interpretation you didn’t imagine might be the one they assumed.

On the other hand, maybe one or more of your friends didn’t read it as a reader might. If your group meets only once a month, they’re reading your story in short bursts separated by several weeks. What a typical reader might recall reading just last night, your friend read some thirty days ago, and forgot.

Some of their suggestions will be obvious, necessary fixes. They were right. You were wrong. Easy change.

Others you’ll have to think about. Did your friend just misread something, or forget something? Before you reject the comment, think about what you could do to help later readers understand the story better.

Often it helps to sleep on it. With a fresh outlook the next day, you might begin to see what your impulse reaction yesterday wouldn’t allow you to see. Your friend was right after all.

Sometimes a friend might be on to something, but her suggested fix won’t work either. You may have to create a third, better way, designed to address an underlying problem only dimly sensed by your friend.

If you had several reviewers, resist the impulse to play ‘majority rule.’ Every comment is worth your scrutiny, whether it came from only one person or several.

In the end, it’s your story. Your name goes on it, not theirs. You’re free to accept or reject any comment or criticism.

For more great advice about how to deal with comments from friends about your manuscript, read this blogpost by Morgan Hazelwood.

Yes, your friends called your baby ugly, in a sense. But this baby isn’t doomed to remain so. You can mold and change this baby. Perhaps your friends, through their criticism, will help to make your baby a wonder for the world to admire. Take it from the father of many an initially ugly baby—

Poseidon’s Scribe

February 20, 2022Permalink

Editing in Perspective

While editing your manuscript, you might wish to look at it from three different viewpoints, or perspectives, to give your story a complete assessment.

A nice post by Jennie Nash inspired this blogpost, but I’ve taken her ideas in a different direction. I concur with her that it’s helpful to get out of your own head and try to see your story through other eyes. That will help you decide what to cut, what to keep, and what to rephrase.

Here are the three perspectives I suggest:

Your Characters. Take each of the major characters in your tale, get inside their heads, and think about the story from their point of view. Are there parts that don’t work? If your character is telling you, “I would never do (or say) that,” listen to that voice. It means that person is unrealistic—literally uncharacteristic. Either change the dialogue or action, or revise the character to make the voice and action plausible.

Your Readers. The audience for your story doesn’t see the story as you do. A reader has limited time, and a lot of other stories to read. The beginning of your tale really has to hook the reader, grab attention and not let go. In the middle of your story, you can’t afford many boring parts, or any parts that are both boring and lengthy. Shorten or get rid of them before your reader throws your book away. There may well be passages you love, but are unnecessary when viewed from a reader’s point of view. Delete them.

Your Editors. Don’t forget those nice folks with the eyeshades and blue pencils, the ones who decide whether to risk the publisher’s money and reputation on your story. They really don’t see your story as you do. They see every grammar and spelling mistake, every plot hole, every cliché and stereotyped character, every ambiguous phrase, every confusing description, and every character that acts out-of-character. It’s best if you see these things first and not give the editor an excuse to reject your story.

There. When you’re done, you will have viewed your story from three perspectives, much as a blueprint depicts an object using front, top, and side views so a manufacturer can understand it from multiple dimensions.

Of course, there’s a sort of fourth dimension involved here, and that’s—

You. You had the idea for the story in the first place and you wrote every word of it. What’s more, it was really you pretending to be characters, readers, and editors throughout the editing process above. It’s been all you every step of the way. When the story is published, it will have your name on it. Are you proud of it? If not, perhaps you ought to let that story sit and percolate awhile before picking it up again for further editing.

I’ll conclude with one interesting trick of perspective, one little-known fact about a peculiar optical illusion. When viewed from any angle, I’m still—

Poseidon’s Scribe

June 27, 2021Permalink

Write Fast, Write Slow

Should you write fast, slow, or a bit of both? Emulate a cheetah, a snail, or switch from one to the other?

I got to pondering this topic when I heard about the book Thinking, Fast and Slow by Daniel Kahneman. In the book, he discusses both of the ways thoughts form in our brains. He calls them System 1 and System 2.

In System 1, our thoughts are instant, emotional, and unconscious. This is what Malcolm Gladwell described in his book Blink: The Power of Thinking Without Thinking. In System 2, our thoughts take time to form and are logical, rational, and less frequent.

Kahneman’s book is not primarily about writing, but others have extended his thoughts into that field. Author Joe Bunting claims that he (Bunting) too easily slips into System 2, so offers five tips to stay in System 1 and therefore crank out prose faster.

Author Anne Janzer renames System 1 as the Muse and System 2 as the Scribe. She advocates using each mode to maximum advantage, and being open to both systems. Wait…did she call the slow one Scribe? Poseidon’s Scribe will try not to take offense.

Just to be different, I’ll call the two systems Cheetah Mode and Snail Mode.

In Cheetah Mode, you’re trying to write in the flow. If you get stuck for a word or need to research something, just make a note to do that later and move on. Let nothing interrupt the cascade of words.

Cheetah Mode has the advantage of being prolific. You can really churn out stories fast. In that mode, too, you can more easily sustain an emotion and achieve consistent tone throughout a story.

However, the Cheetah makes mistakes—grammar goofs, cliches, stereotyped characters, plot problems, unexplained motivations, illogical events, unclear descriptions, etc.

Snail Mode has the advantage of careful attention to detail. It’s what writers call their internal editor. In this mode you can spot and correct your errors, ensure your story is researched and credible, add new insights that occur after careful thought, and render your story polished and readable.

But Snail Mode contains a trap—the perfectionism trap. There’s always more you can do to improve your story, and you can improve it all the way into an eternal spiral of incompletion.

When should you use each mode? I suggest, for your first draft, let the cheetah sprint. In all subsequent drafts, I’d bring out the snail and let it slowly roam through the text, especially the beginning and ending of the story.

As the snail wends its dawdling and deliberate way, keep the cheetah nearby. Let it tap the snail’s shell every now and then, asking, “You done yet? That story’s good enough to submit now. I’m ready to let loose with the next tale.” Any of Bunting’s techniques might work for this.

As Janzer suggests, you should be able to flit from cheetah to snail and back with ease, and be equally comfortable in either mode.

Not to be confused with Anne Janzer’s System 2 Scribe, I’m—

Poseidon’s Scribe

March 4, 2021Permalink

Time to Re-Enlist

How do I get myself into these things? Hot on the heels of 20,000 Leagues Remembered, I’m now co-editing another anthology. This one is called Re-Enlist, from Pole to Pole Publishing. My co-editor is the wonderfully talented author and editor Kelly A. Harmon.

Re-Enlist will consist of previously published short stories (reprints) related to the military and war. Re-Enlist will join Pole to Pole’s previous anthologies in the Re-Imagined series: Re-Launch, Re-Enchant, Re-Quest and Re-Terrify.

If you’ve written a dark SF tale that’s military in nature, a short story between 3000 and 5000 words that’s been published before and the rights have reverted back to you, send it our way.

For all the details and to submit, go to this site.

Will you Re-Enlist? I know one editor who’s anxious to read your short story submission, and that’s—

Poseidon’s Scribe

February 5, 2021Permalink

8 Editing Facts Every Writer Should Know

Until recently, I had been a writer like you, churning out stories and submitting them before Oz, the Great and Powerful…er, I mean editors.

I just co-edited a book myself for the first time and I learned a few things. Today, I’ll pull back the curtain and show you what I found out. Some editors might tell you to pay no attention to the mere mortal behind that curtain, but not me. Perhaps the following nuggets of wisdom will help you as you write and submit stories.

  1. Get away from your gender planet. I’ll try to put this delicately. In 2020, I assumed women weren’t from Venus anymore and men weren’t from Mars. That is, I assumed female writers had gotten beyond long descriptions of characters’ apparel and deep explorations of relationships with no real plotline. Likewise, male writers were well past stories filled with violence and action, peopled with stereotype characters who speak in monosyllables. I thought we’d transcended all that. Nope. Without looking at a writer’s name, I could generally tell the gender in the first couple of paragraphs. My advice—bend your writing toward the other gender’s planet.
  • Don’t expect your poorly written good idea to sell. Occasionally, we’d get a story with a wonderful premise, engaging plotline, and compelling characters, and we’d really want to accept it. Unfortunately, the work suffered from grammar mistakes, plot holes, anachronisms, and other problems. As editors, we’d have to weigh the time required for thorough editing, as well as the back-and-forth communication with the writer, against the idea of accepting a different story that was almost as good but had far fewer mistakes. Self-edit your story with care before submission.
  • Don’t throw junk at the wall. If the submission guidelines state the editors are looking for stories inspired by Jules Verne’s Twenty Thousand Leagues Under the Sea, send a story like that. We received more than one story way, way outside those bounds. As a new editor, I read every submission all the way through. For some, I kept hoping as I read that there’d be some connection, some reference, some link to Verne or submarines, but no. What a waste of the writer’s time, not to mention mine.
  • Learn to write a cover letter. Luckily, there’s not much to learn. If the submission guidelines tell you what the editor wants in your cover letter, follow those. If not, here are my guidelines: (a) No spelling or grammar mistakes. If you can’t get the cover letter right, the editor will have little hope for your story. (b) Just include relevant facts about yourself, things that connect to your story. If you’re sending fiction, don’t list your non-fiction and poetry credits. If you have no relevant credentials yet, don’t stretch what you have to fit. (c) Shorter is better, by far. If your cover letter bores an editor, there’s little hope for your story. If you can get away with no cover letter at all, do that. If all you say is “Please consider my story, ‘<title>’ for your anthology,” that’s fine too.
  • Follow submission guidelines. Sure, it stinks that every editor has her own filename structure, font rules, quote mark guidance, page formatting, etc. Yes, it would be easier if they all agreed on the same submission process. We don’t live in that world yet. Just read and follow each editor’s rules. Better that than to give the editor a good reason to reject your story.
  • Understand that rejections aren’t only hard on the writer. Boy, I hated having my stories rejected, until I learned to get over it and keep submitting. But it’s actually worse from the editorial side. Several stories were on the borderline, really close to getting accepted for our anthology. It broke my heart to reject them. Not much advice here, but just realize that you’ll never know how difficult it was for an editor to reject your submission. Even if they tell you, it won’t help much. Just pick yourself up and submit that story elsewhere.
  • Aim for a smooth author-editor relationship. After acceptance, be positive and professional in all your communication with the editor. If an editor recommends changes to your story, consider them dispassionately before exploding. You can push back against changes where you disagree, but explain your reasoning when you do. In the mission of making your story the best it can be, you and the editor are on the same team.
  • Help with marketing. If your story is accepted by a small press, understand that they won’t have a marketing team. They’ll appreciate any advertising help you can provide, including promoting the anthology on social media, interviewing the other authors on your blog or having them guest-post, and posting a review of the anthology.  

Now that I’ve given you a peek behind the curtain, you’ve got the brains, heart, and courage to find a good home for your story. All granted by that great and powerful wizard—

Poseidon’s Scribe

August 16, 2020Permalink

Picking Up Where You Left Off

You’ve carved out some time to write, and you’re enthused about adding a new scene to that story you’ve been working on. You sit down and look back over what you wrote yesterday, so you can resume writing in that same mood and mindset.

But wait. As you review yesterday’s work, there’s a mistake you need to fix. And another. That whole paragraph needs to go. And you forgot to add some character motivation here. Some scene setting detail there.

Before you know it, your valuable time—the precious hour you’d planned for adding a new scene—has been squandered while you edited previous scenes. What a waste!

Or was it?

It’s an interesting question, and your writing style will determine the answer for you. Consider the two extremes:

Style A. There’s a time for writing and a time for editing. Turn off your inner editor when you write. Free yourself to write first drafts as quickly as you can. When you sit down to write, give only the briefest glance over what you wrote yesterday, ignore mistakes, and charge into your work on the next section, writing as fast as you can. Set aside other days for editing. Otherwise, you’ll be editing forever and never writing.

Style Z. Editing is part of writing. When you sit down to write, you shouldn’t ever ignore problems you see in yesterday’s draft. The changes needed there will affect what you plan to write today. If you ignore the mistakes you see in yesterday’s draft, you might miss them later; best to correct them now. Time spent in some light editing today is time saved, and consistency preserved, tomorrow.  

There’s an entire spectrum of options between Styles A and Z. Moreover, you can choose different options every day. Perhaps your choice will depend on the answers to questions like:

  • How terrible was yesterday’s draft?
  • How clear in your mind is the scene you plan to write today?
  • How much will yesterday’s draft affect today’s?
  • Do you have a deadline?
  • Do you outsource the editing chore to someone else?

A recent facebook post by author Lyn Worthen inspired today’s blogpost. Judging from the comments Lyn received, many authors aren’t bothered by the idea of reading the last few pages and editing as needed before continuing with unwritten portions.

If it really irks you to spend time editing previous sections first, but you can’t resist the urge to do that, well, don’t think of it as editing. Lyn suggests calling it a warmup, a method of re-entering the world of your story. She says you may find this cyclic looping process has the benefits of (a) refreshing your memory, (b), alerting you to previous mistakes, (c) maintaining consistency of tone and voice, and (d) saving you from an enormous pile of editing work when you’ve finished.

New day. Time to finish writing this blogpost. Where was I? Oh, yeah. I was about to close with my typical sign-off as—

Poseidon’s Scribe

May 24, 2020Permalink

Breaking Punctuation Rules

Recently, in a meeting with my critique group, I criticized an author for using too many em-dashes (—) in a manuscript. This author then acquainted me with an interesting online disagreement.

First, author Kate Dyer-Seeley posted a well-worded defense of the Oxford Comma. I, too, am a fan of inserting a comma after the penultimate item in a list before the ‘and.’

Then, author Kristine Kathryn Rusch (who had once been Dyer-Seely’s instructor) countered with a post of her own. Her objection didn’t concern the Oxford Comma, but rather Dyer-Seely’s willingness to add or delete commas from her manuscripts based on an editor’s suggestions.

For Rusch, punctuation is a tool employed in the service of the story, and useful for conveying an author’s voice. Therefore, if you beak a punctuation rule and an editor suggests a revision, you should be able to defend your punctuation choices.

Who’s right?

Here’s a list of ten famous authors who violated, even spat on, punctuation rules without any harm to their reputation. They would side with Rusch.

To be fair, I’ve over-simplified Rusch’s position. She did say a writer must first learn the rules of punctuation before breaking them. We’ve heard that confusing advice before—learn the rules before you break them. Huh?

Here’s the catch, though. If you’re an editor (or a fellow writer doing a critique), it can be difficult to distinguish whether the writer’s flouting of the rules is part of the writer’s style and is meant to serve the story, or if the writer broke the rules out of haste, laziness, poor self-editing, etc.

If you’re a beginning writer still struggling to find your voice, the recommendations of an editor can seem like a burning-bush pronouncement, complete with stone tablets. It can be intimidating to fight back and defend every punctuation violation, as Rusch advocates.

Until recently, I’d never understood the editorial side of the business, but as a first-time co-editor of an upcoming anthology, I’m beginning to appreciate it. Any submitted manuscript does provide certain clues about why a writer broke a rule.

For instance, are there other mistakes? Are there misspellings and grammatical errors that fling a reader out of the story? If so, chances are the writer lacks a defendable rationale for breaking punctuation rules.

On the other hand, as an editor, did you breeze through the story, caught up in the writer’s world, and only notice punctuation violations upon re-reading? If so, you know this author has an established voice, a solid command of when to break rules. Edit such a story with a light touch.

Rusch’s position is a strong one, and it should be the goal of every fiction writer. Convey your story using your voice. If that means breaking some rules, do so, and stand ready to defend your choices.

Not apologizing for this final em-dash, I’m—

Poseidon’s Scribe

May 3, 2020Permalink