How to Work With a Freelance Book Editor if You’re an Anxious, Nervous Wreck
Thank me in your award acceptance speech
First things first. If you’re surfing Medium for tips on how to work with editors, you’ve already given up on professional advice. Welcome.
Secondly, this is not a tip on how to work with a publisher-allocated editor. If they’re the ones giving you a headache, good luck. They paid you.
But in the glorious, developing, and soon mainstream world of Indie publishing, you pay the editor. And no matter what they say, you need to remember that exact thing.
YOU PAY THEM. Scream it at the screen! “I PAID YOU!”
This might seem like straight-forward advice, but it’s one of they key balances. This relationship, baby, it’s all about power.
We’ve been raised in a society (and some of us sacrified years to get a degree in the publishing business too) of the publishing industry’s Anna Wintours—the almighty editors saying yes, no, or ignore to our books. Now that the publishing industry is open to all creators, and you can choose to publish trad or indie, we’re still falling into the same traps when dealing with editors.
We think of them as the evaluators. The professinoals. The authorities. And we need to stop. A lot of indies take the self-pub route because they’re more than just writers. They might have a keen eye for what makes a good cover. They might know how to market (they better), and more importantly, they want control of their vision.
And the editors in that process are simply quality control—not the gatekeeper. You’re the one with the vision, with the story. All of it is you.
So what do you do if your editor’s remarks are making you cry and cringe?
First off, you need to make sure that your editor isn’t bad.
I’m notoriously self-conscious, because I’m afraid editors they’ll point at my books and say ‘Blasphemy! This is not a native English speaker!’
And if you aren’t either, just remember. English belongs to no one. It’s a lingua franca and there aren’t any rules that state you’re not allowed to write in it. I’m open to any Brit who wants to write Sci-fi in Slovenian. Go ahead.
So far none of me editors accused me of being illiterate in my language of choice, but they did do a few things that made me want to find their address. Changing my character’s names was one of them. No. Just no. But I always keep nice and pay the invoices. They don’t need to know I think any less of them, especially because some of the editors I worked with are part of the SFWA and I want my feckin Nebula award.
But every time an editor sends me back a document, I get angry, I have a panic attack, then I think they’re plebs, then I apply too much of their feedback in fear that I have gotten cocky.
Sound familiar? No? Please leave, and take your sanity with you.
I found a few near tricks on how to find out if your editor (who you pay) is any good.
Before I go on, please remember this too. You pay the editor to say something. Even if they liked the book, they will need to say something, because that’s what you paid them for. If you’re anything like me, any comment will give you a bit of ‘hnnnnnnnnnng’ so accelt that you literally pay for feedback. It’s as if you told them ‘I want you to make a comment of one thing you could improve on every single aspect, even if you thought it was good’ and it will make it easier to swallow.
But I know. I know. We’re geniuses. The struggle is real.
- Developmental/Structural edits.
If you’re asking your editor to do any work on the story and how it flows, then here’s what I’d do to make sure they’re a good fit. When you’ve finished your draft, put it away for at least two weeks, which can include the time it’s with the editor. In that time, certain comments of your own will come in, things you wish were stronger, things you wanted to delve deeper into, characters will crystalise, and plot holes will emerge.
Note those down. When you get feedback from the editor, open the document with your own notes, remembering that you’re still the one in control of the book.
You are the one who has already decided that certain things need to change, which means the book ain’t perfect and it’s ok to go in and make it even better.
If anxiety is a big issue for you, also note down what you liked about your book before you open the document with all those intimidating comments and corrections.
Now open the damn thing. Take a second to read through the feedback, and then read through your notes again.
The editor should catch at least some of your planned improvements, as well as suggest some things you might not have caught. If that’s the case, rock on. Implement what you think is useful. Rejoice. Your book will be LIT.
2. Line/ Copy edits
These are far less intimidating, but this is where most of the scammers hide. A good line editor I’ve worked with questioned every word that seemed out of place, every missing dialogue tag, people sitting, and then sitting again, spaces that don’t make sense (basically my signature move at this point), and weird formatting. The only way to get trough these is to sit down and pretend it’s admin, that this has NOTHING to do with your literary genius. It’s just technicalities. And how do you know if the editor did a good job? You go through it. They police you? You police them.
If they’re saying in one scene that you use the work ‘cucumber’ six times, and then in the next scene, they don’t correct the fact that you used the word ‘whisper’ three times on a page, then they’re inconsistent. Sorry, not sorry. If they corrected some inconsistencies and not others, it’s a half-arsed job. Buh-bye.
3. Proofreads
I’m passionate about proofreading, because it’s like being a spy. Ever since I started writing and editing, I’ve spotted so many typos in trad novels (it’s very mood boosting to know some Booker-prize winners aren’t familiar with the Oxford comma) that I’m pretty sure that they are inevitable.
So what’s an ‘acceptable’ quantity of typos after a proofread?
The number I heard was 1 per 1000 words, which would mean that an 80k novel could contain up to 80 typos after a proofread—but you shouldn’t aim for that.
You should aim for ZERO.
After I got my recent novel from the proofreader, I found well over 100 typos and other grammar mistakes (not half-bad for a foreign language speaker eh), and did four meticulous passes with the help of every single grammar tool online, paragraph after paragraph, and then started from the last page towards the beginning (and old trick they teach you at uni). Four times. And after correcting these 100+ mistakes, I’ve been told that there is at least one left.
Here’s the lesson. If you pay a proofreader, they should be the ones doing the gymnastics of proofing through programmes, and backwards, and multiple passes. If they won’t, they’re not worth it. In the future, I’ll still proofread my own work AFTER using a pro, but if I find more than one typo per 2000 words, I won’t use them again. They’re wasting my time.
Don’t be afraid to say no. Don’t be afraid to look elsewhere. Rejecting feedback you think isn’t good enough is a path towards confidence and better writing. You should be your biggest fan, but for the duration of the edit, the editor should be the runner up.
The point of the criteria above is to ascertain that you are still in control of your book, and give you the balance between taking what the editor says as holy, and the confidence to stand your ground without being a stubborn narcissist who can’t see their errors. Always be open to feedback and be kind to yourself.
Books are for the readers, but writing is an infinite path of improvement for you.
Good luck. Thank me in your acceptance speech.
P.S. I am not an editor and have no interest in becoming one, so no, this is not an ad.