Should I use a comma before coordinating conjunctions and independent clauses in fiction?

7/9/2020

Are you confused about when to add commas before coordinating conjunctions linking independent clauses? This post offers guidance and a few examples to show you the way.

Should I use a comma before coordinating conjunctions and independent clauses in fiction?

Rules, convention and meaning
Some writers and editors love a rule. I’m not so keen on the language of ‘rules’ because it sets up a binary mindset that’s focused on ‘wrong’ versus ‘right’ rather than clarity of meaning. Instead, I prefer to think in terms of convention.

Grammatical conventions are useful and purposeful. They provide us with a common frame of reference that helps us communicate clearly through the written word. We can start by at least acknowledging the following:

Breaking with convention requires understanding convention’s intent.

However, ignoring convention doesn’t always render a sentence unreadable or misunderstood.
And adhering to convention doesn’t always mean a sentence is as powerful as it could be.

Balancing convention and meaning
Writing and editing fiction requires deciding when to break with convention. But how do we work out what works and what doesn’t? Here’s how I frame the balancing act:

Punctuation should serve meaning as long as that doesn’t butcher rhythm.
Rhythm should serve emotion as long as that doesn’t butcher understanding.
Both should serve the reader and the story rather than the style manual and the grammar book.

So how does that apply to commas, coordinating conjunctions and independent clauses?

What are coordinating conjunctions?
Coordinating conjunctions are words that join other words or groups of words of equal weight. You might see them referred to in short as FANBOYS:

F	for
A	and
N	nor
B	but
O	or
Y	yet
S	so

What are independent clauses?
Independent clauses are groups of words that can stand as a sentence on their own and still make sense. They include a subject and a predicate.

Subjects are people/things that are doing something or being something – the noun (the thing) and the adjectival information describing that noun. The four examples given below are all subjects.

Louise
That fiction editor Louise Harnby
The dog
The Labrador in the corner

Predicates are what they’re doing – the verb (the doing word) and the thing the verb’s acting on. The four examples below are all predicates.

slumped over the desk.
loves working on thrillers.
licked its paws.
is pale yellow.

Joining subjects and predicates gives us independent clauses. Here are two simple examples (subject in bold; predicate underlined).

The dog is pale yellow.
It is licking its paws.

The comma convention
If two or more independent clauses in a sentence are joined by a coordinating conjunction, it’s conventional to place a comma before that conjunction.

EXAMPLE AND EVALUATION #1
In the following example, the independent clauses are in bold.

The dog is pale yellow, and it's licking its paws.

The independent clauses could stand on their own as complete sentences and be understood perfectly well. Let’s revisit our balancing act and assess the impact of the comma.

The degree to which the comma serves meaning here is, I think, debatable. This is what it looks like without the comma:

The dog is pale yellow and it's licking its paws.

There’s no ambiguity there, and so one could argue that insisting on a comma would be grammatical pedantry. An editor would struggle to justify adding a comma for any other reason than ‘that’s the rule’ or 'I think it looks better' because the meaning is perfectly clear.

Could someone argue that the comma enforces the equal weighting of the independent clauses lying either side of the coordinating conjunction?

Yes in that it acts as a separator of two ideas: the dog’s colour and what it’s doing to its paws; the one isn't related to the other. And so I certainly wouldn’t remove it if it were already in place; there’s no justification for such an action.

MORE COMPLEX CONSTRUCTIONS
Many sentences in fiction are more complex. If our example looked like this, we might have a sounder justification for adding the comma:

She stops in the doorway and holds her breath. She’s found it. The dog is pale yellow and it's licking its paws and nipping at the bloodied fur around the wound.

In the revised example below, I think applying the conventional punctuation helps. The rhythm is moderated – we take a little breath when we reach the comma – and experience (through our viewpoint character’s eyes) first the colour of the dog and then what it’s doing and why.

The two ideas have a starker separation, and the punctuation convention supports that meaning.

She stops in the doorway and holds her breath. She’s found it. The dog is pale yellow, and it's licking its paws and nipping at the bloodied fur around the wound.

EXAMPLE AND EVALUATION #2
Here’s an excerpt from Robert Ludlum’s The Janson Directive (Orion, 2003, p. 355). Once more, both independent clauses are in bold.

Another dumb, inanimate slug would shatter another skull, and another life would be stricken, erased, turned into the putrid animal matter from which it had been constituted.

The independent clauses could stand on their own as complete sentences and be understood perfectly well. Again, let’s revisit our balancing act and assess the impact of the comma.

I think the comma serves meaning and is necessary. Without it, we might start to read the sentence as if the slug would shatter not just a skull but another life too. That’s not what Ludlum is saying. Instead, we’re alerted that another idea is coming into play.

A trip-up here means the reader would have to fix the grammar in their head and reread the sentence to make sense of it. That’s a momentary distraction no writer wants.

When to break grammar and punctuation rules

Breaking with convention in fiction
Let’s have a look at when we might ignore grammatical convention.

Below is a short scene I’ve made up. Our protagonist is a forty-year-old woman having a nightmare about a past event.

There’s a huge yellow dog snarling in the doorway, blocking the way out. Its hackles are raised and it’s grinding its teeth and it’s foaming at the mouth and it’s—
I wake, slick with sweat, the six-year-old me hovering spectre-like in my mind’s eye. It’s the third time I’ve had that dream in the past week.

There are three independent clauses (and the start of a fourth) linked by a coordinating conjunction. The ‘rule’ says there should be a comma before all those ‘and’s.

EVALUATION
A pro fiction editor would want to think twice before they start adding in commas because of some rule or other.

First of all, we need to recognize the literary device in play here – anaphora: deliberate repetition for the purpose of emphasis or meaning – in this case ‘and it’s’.
Notice, too, how the beats in those independent clauses are similar: dee-dum-da-dum, dee-dumdum-da-dum, dee-dumdum-dada-dum.

Using anaphora doesn’t mean we have to ignore commas, far from it. But what would introducing them do to rhythm and mood?

I think the lack of commas helps us to feel our way under the skin of that dream-child because young children in a panic don’t introduce pauses or moderate their speech according to a style manual or a grammar guide. Instead, words fly from their mouths like tiny storms.

What we have instead is the sense of terrified disorientation being experienced by the dreamer, one that’s shown rather than told.

Commas would moderate the pace and separate the ideas contained in each independent clause; omitting them means we’re offered a stream of terrified consciousness.

More exceptions to grammar and punctuation rules

More exceptions
Some grammarians do allow for an exception when the independent clauses are short and closely related.

In the examples that follow, the coordinating conjunctions are underlined; notice the absence of the preceding comma. Sense isn’t marred because of the missing punctuation.

The gig was finished but no one seemed keen to leave.
‘You need to return that or the boss is going to fire you,’ said Harvey.
She’d told him three times yet he wouldn’t listen.
The dog is almost white so it stands out in the dark.
Mara was late yet again and Aisha was furious.

It’s an eminently sensible exception – one that allows for decluttering but also avoids a separation of ideas that isn’t appropriate.

In the first example, ‘no one seemed keen to leave’ is an independent clause, but the reason for telling us this rests on the gig being finished. No comma required.
In the fifth example, Aisha’s fury is standalone, too, but it’s a result of Mara’s tardiness. No comma required.

Summing up
The grammatical convention of placing a comma before a coordinating conjunction linking independent clauses is helpful and useful. However, sometimes we can omit those commas:

Because the comma interrupts rhythm and emotion, and therefore shown meaning.
Because the meaning is clear, and a comma would be unnecessarily cluttering.
Because the comma introduces an inappropriate separation of ideas.

Style and grammar resources offer guidance, and we should use them, but only in so far as they serve the reader and the story, not because we are rule enforcers. That’s nothing more than a road to literary butchery.

More resources to help you line edit with confidence

Author resource library (includes links to free webinars)
Editing Fiction at Sentence Level: A Guide for Beginner and Developing Writers
Making Sense of Punctuation: Transform Your Fiction 2
‘Playing with sentence length in crime fiction. Is it time to trim the fat?’
‘Playing with the rhythm of fiction: commas and conjunctions’
‘What is anaphora and how can you use it in fiction writing?’

Louise Harnby is a line editor, copyeditor and proofreader who specializes in working with crime, mystery, suspense and thriller writers.

She is an Advanced Professional Member of the Chartered Institute of Editing and Proofreading (CIEP), a member of ACES, a Partner Member of The Alliance of Independent Authors (ALLi), and co-hosts The Editing Podcast.

Visit her business website at Louise Harnby | Fiction Editor & Proofreader, say hello on Twitter at @LouiseHarnby, connect via Facebook and LinkedIn, and check out her books and courses.

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When to indent text: Laying out narrative and dialogue in fiction

27/7/2020

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This post explains when and how to indent your narrative and dialogue according to publishing-industry convention.

To indent or not to indent: A quick guide to laying out narrative and dialogue in fiction

The purpose of first-line indents
Each new paragraph signifies a change or shift of some sort ... perhaps a new idea, piece of action, thought or speaker, even a moderation or acceleration of pace. Still, the prose in all those paragraphs within a section is connected.

Paragraph indents have two purposes in fiction:

Readability: They help the reader identify the shifts visually.
Connectivity: They indicate a journey. Indented paragraphs are related to what's come before ... part of the same scene.

First lines in chapters and new sections
Chapters and sections are bigger shifts: perhaps the viewpoint character changes, or there's a shift in timeline or location.

To mark this bigger shift in a novel, it’s conventional not to indent the first line of text in a new chapter or a new section. You might hear editorial folks refer to this non-indented text as full out.

This is standard with narrative and dialogue.
The convention applies regardless of your line spacing.

NARRATIVE LAYOUT
The following example is taken from Part 5, Chapter 2, of Christopher Priest’s Inverted World (p. 287, 2010):

Paragraph 1 is the first in the chapter.
The first line is not indented.
The first lines of the paragraphs that follow it (2) are indented.

And here's an example from Part 2, Chapter 6, p. 147, which shows how the layout works the same after a section break:

Paragraph 1 is the first in the section.
The first line is not indented.
The first lines of the paragraphs that follow it (2) are indented.

Even if an author chooses to include a design feature such as a dropped capital (sometimes called a drop cap), it's standard for that letter to be full out, as shown in the following example from To Kill a Devil (John A. Connell, p. 6, Nailhead Publishing, 2020):

Paragraph 1 is the first in the chapter.
The capital letter on the first and second lines is not indented.
The first line of the paragraph that follows it (2) is indented.

DIALOGUE LAYOUT
The same applies even if the chapter or section starts with dialogue, as in this excerpt from David Rosenfelt's Dog Tags (p. 192, Grand Central, 2010):

Paragraph 1 is the first in the chapter.
The first line is not indented.
The first lines of the paragraphs that follow it (2) are indented.

Body text: dialogue and narrative
The example below from Blake Crouch's Recursion (p. 4, Macmillan, 2019) shows how the indentation works in the body text when there's a mixture of dialogue and narrative.

Regardless of whether the prose is narrative or reported speech, the text is indented.
The convention applies regardless of line spacing.

IMPACT OF LINE SPACING
Even if you've elected to set your book file with double line spacing (perhaps at the request of a publisher, agent or editor), the indentation convention applies. Here's the Recursion example again, tweaked to show what it would look like:

Indenting text that follows special elements
Your novel might include special elements such as letters, texts, reports, lists or newspaper articles. Authors can choose to set off these elements with wider line spacing, but how do we handle the text that comes after?

Again, it's conventional to indent text that follows this content, regardless of whether it's narrative or dialogue. That's because of the connective function; the text is part of the same scene.

Here are some examples from commercial fiction pulled from my bookshelves.

REPORT: The Outsider, Stephen King, Hodder, 2018, p. 252
LIST: Life of Pi, Yann Martel, Canongate, 2002, p. 146
TRANSCRIPT: Snap, Belinda Bauer, Black Swan, 2018, p. 36
RECORD: Ready Player One, Ernest Cline, Arrow, 2012, p. 300

It's not the case that full-out text is never used, or can't be used, but fiction readers are used to conventions. When a paragraph isn't indented, they assume it's a new section, which creates a tiny disconnect.

That's what I think's happened in the example below from Kate Hamer's The Girl in the Red Coat (p. 325, Faber & Faber, 2015). Of course, it took me only a split second to work out that the narrator is referring to the preceding letter, but it's a split second that took me away from the story because I'd assumed I was looking at a section break.

My preference would be to indent 'I touch my finger [...]' because that text is part of the scene, not a new section.

How to create a first-line indent in Word
Let's finish with some quick guidance on creating first-line indents.

Avoid using spaces and tabs to create indents in Word. Instead, create proper indents. There are several ways to do this.

Open the Home tab (1).
Select your text.
Move your cursor to the ruler and select the top marker (2).
Drag it to the position of your preferred indent.
Right-click on the style in the ribbon (3).
Select 'Update Normal to Match Selection'.

Open the Home tab (1).
Open the Styles pane via the arrow icon (4).
Select your text.
Move your cursor to the ruler and select the top marker (2).
Drag it to the position of your preferred indent.
Go to the Styles pane (5) and right-click on the style (6).
Select 'Update Normal to Match Selection'.

Open the Home tab (1).
Open the Styles pane via the arrow icon (4).
Go to the Styles pane (5) and right-click on the style (6).
Select 'Modify' to open the Modify Styles pane (A).
Click on the Format button in the bottom left-hand corner (B).
Select Paragraph to open the Paragraph pane (C).
Make sure you're in the Indents and Spacing tab.
Look at the Indentations section in the middle. Make sure 'First line' is selected under 'Special:' (D).
Adjust the first-line indent according to your preference (E).
Click OK (F).

Create a new style for your full-out paragraphs using the same tools.

If using the ruler, ensure the markers (2) are aligned, one on top of the other.
If using the styles pane, adjust the indent spacing (E) to zero.

If you need more assistance with creating styles, watch this free webinar. There's no sign-up; just click on the button and dig in.

ACCESS WEBINAR

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How to show the emotions of non-viewpoint characters

20/7/2020

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Non-viewpoint characters have emotions too. But how do we show them without head-hopping? The answer lies in mastering observable behaviour.

What is head-hopping?
When a reader can access the internal experiences (emotions, thoughts, memories) of more than one character in a chapter or section, head-hopping is usually in play.
The exception is if you’re tackling the tricky beast that is omniscient narration. It’s difficult to pull off and rarely used in contemporary commercial fiction.

Here’s an example of what head-hopping looks like on the page. Jack is the viewpoint character and the narration style is third-person limited.

The pebble bounces on the water seven, eight, no, nine times. Best ever, Jack thinks.
Pete weaves through the grass and slumps into a hollow in the dune. His brother’s whoop, the arc of his arm … just like Dad’s when they played skimming stones. Before the accident. Before the world changed. He shakes the memory from his head. Dwelling on that stuff never ends well.
Jack turns away from the ocean, waves and calls for Pete to come down but the crashing surf swallows his words.

Notice the following:

Best ever is Jack’s thought. That puts us in his head, which is fine because this is an excerpt from a chapter in which he’s the viewpoint character. But that means we cannot access what’s going on in Pete’s head – how he is remembering his dad and the accident, and the decision to not dwell on those things.
Look at the physicality too. Jack turns away from the water, which means he was facing it and couldn’t have observed Pete weaving through the grass and slumping into the dune. All he can do is see Pete on the dune after he’s turned.

How to enter a non-viewpoint character’s space without dropping viewpoint
There will be times when you want your reader to enter the emotional and physical space of a non-viewpoint character.

Mastering observable behaviour – showing us what the viewpoint character can see, and their interpretation of that behaviour – is one solution that will enable you to hold viewpoint.

Here’s a recast of the Jack/Pete scene:

The pebble bounces on the water seven, eight, no, nine times. Best ever, Jack thinks.
He whoops and turns his back to the ocean. Pete’s lumbering gait is unmistakable. He weaves through the grass on the dune and slumps into a hollow, mouth set in a hard line, neck hunched into his shoulders, complexion pasty. But he’s out; the sunlight’s on his face. It’s the first time since a month of whenevers.
Skimming stones was something they did with Dad. Before the accident. Before the world changed. Jack shakes the memory from his head. Dwelling on that stuff never ends well. He waves, calls for his brother to come down but the crashing surf swallows his words.

Notice the following:

We don’t leave Jack’s head. I’ve given him the memory of their dad and the accident, and the decision to not dwell.
I’ve changed the order of movement. Jack turns first so he can observe Pete’s journey through the grass and into the hollow of the dune.
Pete’s mood isn’t told (since we can’t access his inner experience). However, it can be shown through the set of his mouth, the position of his neck and the hue of his skin as Jack perceives it. Furthermore, we can infer that he’s been struggling to deal with the accident through Jack’s relief that he’s at least outside for a change.

Mastering observation
Mastering observation enables writers to retain viewpoint but not be restricted by it. Think about how non-viewpoint characters will move in a way that reflects their internal experience, or what they will look like. Here are a few examples:

What the non-viewpoint character feels but cannot be told because we’re not in their head	What’s visible and audible to the viewpoint character
Pain	They grimace; clutch a part of their body; wince; howl
Shock	They jump back; gasp; stumble; put a hand to their chest
Nervousness	They fidget with a zipper; pick at their nails; shred a beer mat; stutter
Embarrassment	They blush; avoid eye contact; their breathing is shallow; they speak faster than usual
Nausea	Their complexion is tinged a different colour; they gag or retch; their voice is flat

Summing up
If you’re writing in a third-person limited narration style, consider what the viewpoint character already knows, what they can observe in relation to a non-viewpoint character, and what they could infer from those observations. That will determine what they can report.

What they report can still allow readers to access the internal experience of the non-viewpoint character through a back door. And while that report will be biased, it will be immersive.

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How to use reflexive pronouns in fiction

13/7/2020

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Himself, herself, myself, themself ... check the usage of pronouns in your fiction. You might just be overworking them, such that you’re stating the obvious, modifying the pace, and reducing tension.

Questionable usage
Reflexive pronouns can act as double tells by stating the obvious, and mar pace and tension.

Stating the obvious

Max grabbed a fistful of dandelion leaves and shoved them into his mouth. Needs garlic, he thought to himself.
Jenny wondered to herself about the dream – it had been so real, as if she’d had full control. And yet …

When it comes to internal musings, authors can ditch the reflexive pronouns. Thoughts take place inside a person’s head and, by definition, are offered only for the thinker – unless there’s telepathy going on in the novel!

Moderating pace and reducing tension

Max ducked, rolled himself over the floor and grabbed the Browning. Fired out two shots. Both hit home.
Ali sprinted down the street and swung herself into the shadows.

These are high-tension scenes. Max is in a shoot-out; Ali’s escaping danger. Every word stretches out the sentence. And as the sentence length loosens, so does the tension.

Look what happens when we remove the pronouns:

Max ducked, rolled over the floor and grabbed the Browning. Fired out two shots. Both hit home.
Ali sprinted down the street and swung into the shadows.

The sentences shorten, the pace increases – and so does the tension.

Usage that works
We shouldn’t omit all -self pronouns. There are occasions when a sentence works better with them. Sometimes they’re essential.

Clarity
In some cases, the pronoun is necessary for clarity. The reader can’t be sure of what the verb’s object is without it. In the examples below, removing the pronouns could leave the reader with questions: Ashamed of what? A promise to whom? Stop what? Consider whom an expert?

Ordinarily, she’d have been ashamed of herself, but there was no guilt – not this time.
I made a promise to myself never again to lose my rag over something so inconsequential.
He couldn’t stop himself; it took five minutes to demolish the chocolate egg.
I consider myself an expert, and no one will convince me otherwise.

Emphasis
The pronoun can be used to emphasize the person being discussed. Omission would leave the sentence grammatically intact but change the mood and pacing. In this case, it’s a judgement call on the author’s part.

Sarah told me so herself.
The queen herself told me.
John hadn’t been the only one having a hard time. I myself had been suffering from anxiety at the time.

Sense
Some sentences don’t make grammatical sense without a reflexive pronoun. Remove them and the writing leaves more than questions: it’s unreadable.

She had to defend herself from that monster – no two ways about it.
Cass doused themself in perfume.
Why shouldn’t he call himself the King of Hearts? Who cares if it sounds daft? Daft is good.
He dragged himself to the top of the stairs.

Reflexive pronouns: mood versus clutter
At the top of this post, I offered examples of how -self pronouns can reduce tension. There will be occasions when an author wants to do exactly that.

I was trying to make a new life for myself. That’s all there was to it.
I was trying to make a new life. That’s all there was to it.

There’s a more staccato feel to the second version above that might jar if the author’s seeking a contemplative mood.

Still, too much self-ing can make even a stress-free scene overly wordy so it’s always worth thinking about whether a leaner version would be more immersive and get the reader from A to B faster.

In the first version of the triplets that follow, the pronouns introduce a chilled-out sense of laissez-faire to the movement. In the second I’ve omitted them. And in the third, I’ve ditched the mundane movement and focused on the essential beat.

He found himself a chair and sat down.
He found a chair and sat down.
He sat down.

Maxie busied themself with the coffee machine and settled down to read the letter.
Maxie made a coffee and settled down to read the letter.
Maxie read the letter.

She got herself up and called Mel.
She got up and called Mel.
She called Mel.

It’s always worth an author spending a little time on thinking about how much micromanagement of a scene is necessary.

Will the reader care about the chair discovery, or that Maxie had a hot drink while they were reading the letter, or that the protagonist was no longer on the sofa when she called Mel?

Perhaps. If that stuff’s central to driving the novel forward, to reflecting mood, to grounding the character in the environment, the pronoun and the stage direction might be necessary. If it’s clutter that can be removed without damaging reader engagement, lean up the scene!

Summing up
Use reflexive pronouns when they’re necessary for clarity, sense and emphasis. Otherwise, consider leaner prose that focuses on what the reader needs to know to move forward in the story.

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Fiction copyediting for indie authors: Are you fit for purpose?

29/6/2020

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Want to copyedit fiction for indie authors? Even if you have extensive experience of working for publishers, there are skills and knowledge you might need to acquire before making the shift.

Publishing has its own language
Fiction copyediting means something specific in a publishing company. It’s usually (there are always exceptions to the rule) the corrective work that focuses on spelling, punctuation, grammar, consistency and logic.

It’s important work – meticulous and detailed. It stops a character giving birth two months before she got pregnant; it spots when your protagonist’s eyes have changed colour; it flags up the trigger safety that doesn’t exist on the model of gun being described.

In the wider world, ‘copyediting’ can mean all sorts of things. It will include all of the above but might include a deeper level of stylistic work.

Some editors will use different terminology to describe their services, such that this middle-level editing – further down the chain than developmental or structural work but higher up than the prepublication proofread – is more intense.

Some editors even include developmental/structural work in their ‘copyediting’ service because their target clients fall into one or both of the following categories:

aren’t familiar with all the levels of editing
are more likely to search for terms such as ‘copyediting’ and ‘proofreading’ even though the big-picture elements of their story might also need some work

The mismatch between language and need
Some editors work only for publishers. Some work only for indie authors. Some work for both.

That messy publishing language becomes problematic when everyone’s using one term – ‘copyediting’ – to mean different things.

Plus, none of us knows what we don’t know.

If an editor has copyedited fiction only for publishers, and then moves into the indie-author market, there’s a risk that their knowledge and skills match the needs and expectations of mainstream publishers, but not those of indie authors.

Many indie authors are self-publishing for the first time. They’ll expect a professional editor to know what they don’t. But a fiction copyeditor, just by virtue of having done something called ‘fiction copyediting’ as defined by publishers, might not know how to handle the stylistic issues in a book.

That doesn’t mean they’re a bad editor. It means they have a specific skill set that might not be what the indie author needs or asks for.

Case study

GOOD EDITOR; BAD FIT

The author
Jo Pennedanovel is navigating the independent publishing world for the first time. She’s never gone it alone so she’s working from scratch – writing, finding editorial support and a cover designer, building a promotion strategy, and learning about sales and distribution platforms.

The brief
Jo knows that more than a proofread is required, but she’s happy with the big-picture aspects of her novel. She needs something in the middle: ‘copyediting’, she’s heard it called. So that’s what she looks for.

Jo goes online and searches for a copyeditor, finds someone who has over a decade’s worth of experience of copyediting fiction for some of the big-name publishing houses.

If that editor’s good enough for them, they’re good enough for Jo! Jo hires the copyeditor for her book.

The outcome
Jo’s a professional and takes her writing seriously. She knows there will be outstanding glitches that were missed at copyediting stage, so she hires another editor to proofread her book. All well and good so far.

The editor fixes the outstanding proofreading glitches but notices the following:

There are over 300 viewpoint drops – most are small but still glaring to him because, well, he’s studied line craft.
The prose is sometimes laboured and repetitive – not because Jo’s a poor writer but because she’s immersed in the storytelling rather than the minutiae.
A plethora of speech tags tell of mood that’s already been adequately conveyed in the excellent dialogue.

The fix
The proofreader could ignore all the line-craft issues. After all, he’s not been commissioned to do this work and it will cut into his hourly rate. And anyway, shouldn’t the previous editor have fixed this stuff?

Still, he’s committed to editorial excellence, wants a cracking book in his portfolio, and would like to work with that author again, so he decides that ignoring these problems isn’t an option.

He could do one of the following:

Flag up the issues in a report but elect not to solve each individual problem.
Go the whole hog, offer suggested recasts so Jo can fix the problems easily, and write off the extra time as a marketing expense. Maybe he can persuade Jo to hire him for the copyediting stage next time.
Halt the proofread, go back to Jo, explain the problem and try to renegotiate the project brief.

I’ve done all three in my time. My choice was based on the author, my schedule, and the connection I felt with the project. There’s no wrong or right, just informed decision-making.

What’s gone wrong in the editing process?
So what went wrong in that case study? This problem arises because of flawed assumptions about language and responsibility.

Language
The author and the editor are using the same language to describe different outcomes.

The author thinks of ‘copyediting’ as a middle-ground service between developmental/structural editing and proofreading.
The editor, who works mainly for publishers, considers ‘copyediting’ a non-stylistic type of work that comes after line editing.

What Jo needed was an editor who recognizes that ‘copyediting’ could mean something different in the author’s head – something like: Do what’s required to make my prose sing! I don’t know what those things are, but that’s why I’m hiring you.

What she got was a traditional high-quality copyedit as defined by a different client type. It’s work that she needed, but not all the work she needed.

Responsibility
A frequent fallback position on the editor’s part is this: it’s the author’s fault because they didn’t hire the right service. Jo shouldn’t have commissioned a copyedit when stylistic work was required.

That’s flawed. She hired a professional editor precisely because they’re a professional editor. She wanted them to show her what she didn’t know.

The situation is complicated further by the fact that editors define their services differently. I offer ‘line-/copyediting’. Some of my colleagues offer the same level of intervention but call it just ‘copyediting’. Others offer two distinct services: ‘line editing’ and ‘copyediting’.

Yet others don’t even call line editing ‘line editing’. It might be called ‘substantive editing’ or ‘stylistic editing’.

It is any wonder that an indie author chooses to ignore the tangled terminology and focus on collating a shortlist of editors who have extensive experience of working for traditional industry gatekeepers – publishers?

That works splendidly when the editors have the skills and knowledge to go beyond what a publisher might expect from a fiction copyedit. But it can fall of a cliff when the rigidity of the terminology restricts the depth of editing required.

How can editors help fix the problem?
Editors must take responsibility for the language they use and the skills they have so that they’re fit for a diverse indie-author market. That means learning and educating.

Learn line craft
Fiction editors serving indie authors should learn line craft – the stylistic sentence-level editing that might be required.

If we don’t understand the likes of show and tell, narrative viewpoint, tense, holding suspense, dialogue craft, and so on, we should question whether we’re ready for this market.

And if we do still want to serve this market with publisher-defined copyediting, we must be explicit about the fact that we don’t offer solutions to stylistic problems in prose.

Still, being able to say we don’t offer those solutions means understanding what they are in the first place. Not recognizing them is not an option.

Educate authors
We must go the extra mile to ensure that our online and direct communications with authors explain the different levels of editing and how we define them.

A website that boasts of our achievements but doesn’t show our understanding of the craft of fiction editing doesn’t help a beginner author make informed decisions. It serves only us, not them.

That can lead to disappointment on the author’s part. And disappointment leads to mistrust, not just with the editor who did the work but with the global editorial community in general.

Editors frequently report that editing is ‘undervalued’ and ‘underpaid’. But value and worth have to be earned. So does trust.

When an editor works with an indie author, but doesn’t have the skills to offer what’s required, or is ignorant of the fact that they don’t have those skills, it’s they – not the author – who is bringing down value and worth in the editing industry.

How can authors help fix the problem?
Writers can help themselves too. If you’re an indie author, and you’re not one hundred per cent sure about what you need, do the following:

Author checklist

FINDING A GOOD-FIT EDITOR

Learn about the various levels of editing (there's a booklet below that will help you with that).
Be aware that publishing language is messy. Focus on the what rather than the what-it’s-called. One person’s ‘copyedit’ might look very different from another’s. One person’s ‘line edit’ might be another’s ‘stylistic edit’.
Check more than the editor’s career history. Where they worked is interesting; what they did is critical. Yes, they’ve copyedited a hundred novels for Hodder & Stoughton but what did that ‘copyediting’ include? Is that what you require, or might you need something deeper, more stylistic?
Get more than one sample edit if not-knowing-what-you-don’t-know is in play. That will give you a glimpse of how each editor would tackle your novel; how deep they’d go, and what the problems might be.
Consider their training. Have they learned about, or are they teaching sentence-level fiction editing? It’s only part of the story, but it’s yet another light you can shine to see what lies beneath the glossy portfolio.

CLICK IMAGE TO DOWNLOAD PDF

Summing up
What publishers expect from a fiction copyeditor is often very different to what indie authors will want or need.

If you’re an editor who wants to offer sentence-level work for indie authors, think about the following:

The language you use to describe your service.
The indie author’s expectations.

Even if you have an extensive fiction copyediting background by virtue of having worked for a ton of mainstream publishers, there might still be a mismatch between what’s required or what’s asked for and your own definitions and experience.

Be prepared to learn, and to show what you’ve learned when you communicate with indie authors. That’s how we build trust, value and worth.

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The Editing Podcast: 18 writing-craft blogs for editors and authors, S4E7

18/5/2020

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In this episode of The Editing Podcast, Louise and Denise chat about 18 blogs for authors and editors that offer guidance on various aspects of writing craft.

Click to listen to Season 4, Episode 7

RATE AND REVIEW

Listen to find out more about:

ALLi blog: Alliance of Independent Authors
Ann Handley blog
Articles: The Writer’s Digest
Articles: Tim Storm, Storm Writing School
Bacon Editing blog: Claire Bacon
Bookbaby blog
Clarity: Lisa Poisso, Editor and Book Coach
Denise Cowle Editorial Services blog: Denise Cowle
Helping Writers become Authors: KM Weiland
Jane Friedman blog
LibroEditing blog: Liz Dexter
Liminal Pages blog: Sophie Playle, Fiction Editor
The Creative Penn blog: Joanna Penn
The Editor’s Blog: Beth Hill
The Itch of Writing: Emma Darwin
The Editing Blog: Louise Harnby, Fiction Editor
The Radical Copyeditor blog: Alex Kapitan
The Subversive Copyeditor blog: Carol Saller

Editing bites and other resources

Cult Pens
Stein on Writing, by Sol Stein, Non Basic Stock Line, 2007

Ask us a question
The easiest way to ping us a question is via Facebook Messenger: Visit the podcast's Facebook page and click on the SEND MESSAGE button.

Music credit
‘Vivacity’ Kevin MacLeod (incompetech.com). Licensed under Creative Commons: By Attribution 3.0 License.

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How to run and grow an editing and proofreading business. Q&A, Part 2: The Editing Podcast, S4E6

12/5/2020

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In this episode of The Editing Podcast, Denise and Louise answer more questions about how to run and grow an editing and proofreading business.

Click to listen to Season 4, Episode 6

RATE AND REVIEW

Listen to find out more about:

Increasing organic lead generation
Assembly Bill 5 (AB5) and the impact on freelancers in California
The benefits of working with publishers, packagers and project-management agencies
Content marketing: Solving clients problems
Facebook marketing: Ads, chatbots and website pixels
Google ads and sourcing professional expertise
Managing impostor syndrome
Attracting indie genre-fiction authors: content marketing and branding
Getting work with publishers
Ethical promotion to a primed audience
Technical writing and copy-writing
Choosing a business name
Building an editorial business on a tight budget
Using career expertise as a foundation for an editing specialism
Choosing the right training course
Building a marketing strategy
Starting an editing business when we care for young children
Scaling a business: Passive income streams, price increases, training, and premium services
Researching markets and audiences
Making a website visible

Louise Harnby is a line editor, copyeditor and proofreader who specializes in working with independent authors of commercial fiction, particularly crime, thriller and mystery writers.

She is an Advanced Professional Member of the Chartered Institute of Editing and Proofreading (CIEP), a member of ACES, a Partner Member of The Alliance of Independent Authors (ALLi), and co-hosts The Editing Podcast.

Visit her business website at Louise Harnby | Fiction Editor & Proofreader, say hello on Twitter at @LouiseHarnby, connect via Facebook and LinkedIn, and check out her books and courses.

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How to run and grow an editing and proofreading business. Q&A, Part 1: The Editing Podcast, S4E5

11/5/2020

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In this episode of The Editing Podcast, Denise and Louise answer questions about how to run and grow an editing and proofreading business.

Click to listen to Season 4, Episode 5

RATE AND REVIEW

Listen to find out more about:

When editorial projects don't arrive on time ... how to manage it and how to prevent it
Dealing with burnout and procrastination
How to get fiction work with indie authors
Making time for marketing
Increasing efficiency
Contracts, and whether email is sufficient
What to tell publishers when we're asking to be placed on their freelance lists
How to link up with other editors
Billing in different currencies
What to include on an invoice
Starting an editing business, and the best order for tackling branding, website creation, social media networking, marketing, and investing in productivity tools

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Q&A on the business of editing: How to submit your questions

4/5/2020

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Want to find a solution to an editorial business problem? Louise and Denise are hosting a Q&A on The Editing Podcast especially for editors and proofreaders. Watch the video to find out how to submit your questions and get them answered on 11 May 2020!

How to submit your question
Go to The Editing Podcast's Facebook page and drop your question in the comments underneath the video. We'll be answering questions about the following:

Finding and being found by good-fit clients
Marketing and branding strategies
Using social media
Specializing by subject or genre
Starting out
Dealing with impostor syndrome
Business planning and organization strategies
Training and CPD
Networking, professional societies and conventions
Efficiency and productivity tools
Anything else you want help with!

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Writing a content-marketing book. With John Espirian: The Editing Podcast, S4E3

2/5/2020

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In this episode of The Editing Podcast, Louise and Denise talk to technical writer and editor John Espirian about content marketing, editing and bringing a book to market.

Click to listen to Season 4, Episode 3

RATE AND REVIEW

Listen to find out more about:

Content DNA - the book
Developing the book's concept: The shape of you
Writing the book
Tackling the editing process
Cover design and branding
The benefits of a foreword
Content marketing, and why it works
Social media focus and email-list building
Pricing, marketing and sales
Creating an audio book
Finding an audience to use as a springboard for business books
Building a personal brand that acts as a buffer
Targeting clients' problems and offering solutions
What is technical writing?
Who uses technical writers?

Contacting John Espirian

Editing bites and other resources

AgentQuery.com
The Tao of Twitter, by Mark Schaefer
KNOWN, by Mark Schaefer
Chartered Institute of Editing and Proofreading (CIEP)
Col Gray, graphic design and brand design: pixels ink; YouTube

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Writing natural dialogue – using contractions

13/4/2020

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Not sure if contractions are a good fit for your fiction’s dialogue? Here’s why they (nearly always) work.

Next time you’re in the pub with friends, at the dinner table with your family, or travelling on the bus, do a bit of people-listening. They’ll speak with contractions: you’re, they’re, I’m, don’t, hadn’t, can’t and so on.

Contractions are a normal part of speech. They help us communicate faster and improve the flow of a sentence.

Watch the following videos and listen to the spoken words. They feature people with very different backgrounds, sharing different stories, and in situations that demand varying levels of formality.

The people talking have one thing in common: they use contractions when they speak ... most (though not all) of the time.

That’s why when we want to write natural dialogue – dialogue that flows with the ease of real-life speech – contractions work.

How contractions affect the flow of dialogue
Take a look at this excerpt from No Dominion by Louise Welsh (Kindle edition, John Murray, 2017).

He settled himself on the chair. ‘I don’t know where you’ve just come from, but round here nothing’s odd.’ He emphasised the word, making it sound absurd. ‘People come, people go. Sometimes they need something. Sometimes they’ve got something I need. We trade and they go on their way.’

Here’s the contraction-free recast. It reads awkwardly, and leaves us unconvinced that what’s in our mind’s ear bears any relation to what we would have heard had this been real speech. And that means we’re questioning the authenticity of the story rather than immersing ourselves in it.

He settled himself on the chair. ‘I do not know where you have just come from, but round here nothing is odd.’ He emphasised the word, making it sound absurd. ‘People come, people go. Sometimes they need something. Sometimes they have got something I need. We trade and they go on their way.’

Contractions and genre
Some authors avoid contractions because of the genre they’re writing in. You’re more likely to see this in historical fiction than contemporary commercial fiction but it’s not strictly genre-specific and is more an issue of authorial style.

Here’s an excerpt from a contemporary psychological mystery, The Wych Elm (Penguin, 2019, p. 71). Tana French uses contractions in the narrative and dialogue. The speech sounds natural; the narrative that frames it is informal.

‘Oh, yeah. Now’s when you’ll notice anything out of place. And you’ll want to get the gaff back in order, and you can’t do that till you’ve done the look-round.’ Back in order-- It hadn’t even occurred to me to think about what shape my apartment might be in.

Compare this with Our Mutual Friend (Wordsworth Editions, 1997, p. 235). Dickens, writing literary fiction in the 1860s, still uses contractions in dialogue, although he avoids them in his more formal but wickedly tart narrative.

‘We’ll bring him in,’ says Lady Tippins, sportively waving her green fan. ‘Veneering for ever!’
‘We’ll bring him in!’ says Twemlow.
‘We’ll bring him in!’ say Boots and Brewer.
Strictly speaking, it would be hard to show cause why they should not bring him in, Pocket-Breaches having closed its little bargain, and there being no opposition. However, it is agreed that they must ‘work’ to the last, and that, if they did not work, something indefinite would happen. It is likewise agreed they are all so exhausted with the work behind them, and need to be so fortified for the work before them, as to require peculiar strengthening from Veneering’s cellar.

Now look at Ambrose Parry’s The Way of All Flesh (Canongate Books, 2018). The authors (Parry is the pseudonym used by Chris Brookmyre and Marisa Haetzman) don’t avoid contractions completely but the sparing usage does give the dialogue a more archaic feel. Here’s an excerpt from p. 259.

‘I know only that it is a private matter, and I know not to ask further detail. You would be wise to follow suit, unless you would rather Dr Simpson was made aware of your curiosity.’

I doubt anyone would be surprised when I say that the setting is 1847. And so it works. However, if the novel were set in 2019, there’d be a problem. We’d consider those characters unrealistically pompous and the dialogue overblown.

Contractions, pace and voice
The decision to use or avoid contractions is a tool that authors can use to deepen character voice.

Specific contracted forms might enable readers to imagine regional accents, social status and personality traits such as pomposity.

P.G. Wodehouse is a master of dialogue. Bertie Wooster is a wealthy young idler from the 1920s. Jeeves is his savvy valet. The dialogue between the two pops off the page and Wodehouse uses or avoids contractions to make the characters’ voices distinct.

Jeeves’s speech is often uncontracted. This moderates the pace of the dialogue and helps to render his voice as serious, formal, patient and long-suffering.
Bertie’s speech is often contracted. This accelerates the dialogue and helps to render his voice as flighty, foolish and careless.

You can see it in action in The Inimitable Jeeves (Kindle version, Aegitus, 2019).

‘Mr Little tells me that when he came to the big scene in Only a Factory Girl, his uncle gulped like a stricken bull-pup.’
‘Indeed, sir?’
‘Where Lord Claude takes the girl in his arms, you know, and says—’
‘I am familiar with the passage, sir. It is distinctly moving. It was a great favourite of my aunt’s.’
‘I think we’re on the right track.’
‘It would seem so, sir.’
‘In fact, this looks like being another of your successes. I’ve always said, and I always shall say, that for sheer brains, Jeeves, you stand alone. All the other great thinkers of the age are simply in the crowd, watching you go by.’
‘Thank you very much, sir. I endeavour to give satisfaction.’

In Oliver Twist (Wordsworth Classics, 1992, p. 8), Dickens contracts is not (ain’t) and them (’em) to indicate the low social standing of Mrs Mann, who runs a workhouse into which orphaned children are farmed.

‘Why, it’s what I’m obliged to keep a little of in the house, to put into the blessed infants’ Daffy, when they ain’t well, Mr Bumble,’ replied Mrs Mann as she opened a corner cupboard, and took down a bottle and glass. ‘I’ll not deceive you, Mr B. It’s gin.’
‘Do you give the children Daffy, Mrs Mann?’ inquired Bumble, following with his eyes the interesting process of mixing.
‘Ah, bless ’em, that I do, dear as it is,’ replied the nurse. ‘I couldn’t see ’em suffer before my very eyes, you know, sir.’

Contractions and their impact on stress and tone
You can use or omit contractions in order to force where the stress falls in a sentence.

Compare the following:

‘I can’t believe you said that,’ Louise said.
‘I cannot believe you said that,’ Louise said.

By not using a contraction in the second example, the stress on ‘cannot’ is harder. The change is subtle but evident. With can’t the mood is one of disbelief tempered with a whining tone; with cannot the disbelief remains but the tone is angry.

Here’s another excerpt from The Way of All Flesh (p. 140). The speaker is a surgeon, Dr Ziegler.

‘I believe it is important to provide the best possible care for the patients regardless of the manner in which they got themselves into their present predicament,’ Ziegler continued. ‘Desperate people are often driven to do desperate things. I have known young women to take their own lives because they could not face the consequences of being with child; and some because they could not face their families discovering it.’

Parry’s dialogue doesn’t just evoke a historical setting. The style of the speech affects the tone too. The voice is compassionate, the mood stoic. However, the lack of contractions renders the tone precise and careful.

On p. 142, Raven – a medical student turned sleuth – talks with the matron about medical charlatanry:

‘Aye, though there is worse,’ said Mrs Stevenson.

Using there is forces the stress on is, and in consequence the tone is resigned. With there’s the stress would have fallen on worse, and we might have assumed a more conspiratorial tone, as if she were about to divulge a secret.

Contractions and narration style
If you’re wondering whether to reserve your contractions for dialogue only, consider who the narrator is.

Let’s revisit Tana French (p. 1). The viewpoint character is a privileged man called Toby, the setting contemporary Dublin. What’s key here is that the narration viewpoint style is first person.

It is Toby who reports the events of the mystery; the narrative voice belongs to him. His narration register is therefore the same as his dialogue register – relaxed, colloquial – and the author, accordingly, retains the contractions in the narrative.

I wasn’t abused as a kid, or bullied in school; my parents didn’t split up or die or have addiction problems or even get into any but the most trivial arguments [...] I know it wasn’t that simple.

For sections written in third-person limited, the narrative voice would likely mirror the viewpoint character’s style of speaking. However, if you shift to a third-person objective viewpoint, where the distance between the characters and the readers is greater, the narrative might handle contractions differently to dialogue. It's a style choice you'll have to make.

Guidance from Chicago
Still a little nervous? Here’s some sensible advice from The Chicago Manual of Style, section 5.105:

‘Most types of writing benefit from the use of contractions. If used thoughtfully, contractions in prose sound natural and relaxed and make reading more enjoyable. Be-verbs and most of the auxiliary verbs are contracted when followed by not: are not–aren’t, was not–wasn’t, cannot–can’t, could not–couldn’t, do not–don’t, and so on. A few, such as ought not–oughtn’t, look or sound awkward and are best avoided. Pronouns can be contracted with auxiliaries, with forms of have, and with some be-verbs. Think before using one of the less common contractions, which often don’t work well in prose, except perhaps in dialogue or quotations.’

Evaluate the sound
Here are three ways to help you evaluate the effectiveness of contracted or contracted-free dialogue:

1. Read the dialogue aloud: Is it difficult or awkward to say it? Does it sound unnatural to your ear? Do you stumble? Does it feel laboured, like you’re forcing the flow? If so, recast it with contractions. If the revised version is smoother, and the integrity of the setting is retained, go with the contracted forms.

2. Ask someone else to read the dialogue: Objectivity is almost impossible when it comes to our own writing. If the plan is that no one but you will ever read your book, write your dialogue the way you want to write it and leave it at that. If, however, you’re writing for readers too, and want to give them the best experience possible, fresh eyes (and ears) will serve you well.

You could even give your readers two versions of the dialogue sample – one with contractions and one without – and ask them which flows better and reads most naturally.

3. Head for YouTube: Dig out examples of speech by people whose backgrounds, environments and historical settings are similar to those of your characters. Watching characters in action will give you confidence to place on the page what can be heard from the mouths of those on the screen.

Summing up
Whether to use contractions or not in dialogue is a style choice. There are no rules. However, a style choice that renders dialogue stilted and unrealistic is not good dialogue.

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10 ways to proofread your own writing

6/4/2020

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Fresh eyes on a piece of writing is ideal. Sometimes, however, the turnaround time for publication precludes it. Other times, the return on investment just won’t justify the cost of hiring a professional proofreader, especially when shorter-form content’s in play. Good enough has to be enough.

Here are 10 ideas to help you minimize errors and inconsistencies.

Checking our own writing rarely produces the same level of quality as a fresh pair of eyes. We see what we think is on the page, not what is on the page. That's because we're so close to the content.

I'm a professional editor and I know that when I don't pass on my blog posts to one of my colleagues there are more likely to be mistakes. It's not that I don't know my craft but that I'm wearing a writer's hat.

Sometimes, getting pro help isn't an option. So what can you do to minimize errors and inconsistencies? Here are 10 tips.

1. Create a style guide

Style guides help you keep track of your preferences, including hyphenation, capitalization, proper-noun spelling, figures and measurements, time and date format.

If you’re a novelist, use my Style Sheet Template
If you’re a business writer, check out the Chartered Institute of Editing and Proofreading (CIEP) guide Your House Style

2. Use a page-proofs checklist

This pro-proofreading checklist helps you spot and identify layout problems in designed page proofs (hard copy or PDF). It’s based on the house guidelines provided by the many mainstream publishers I've worked for.

3. Run PerfectIt

PerfectIt is affordable software that takes the headache out of consistency checking. And because it’s customizable, it will help you enforce your style preferences and save you time. It’s a must-have tool for writers and pro editors.

4. Use find-and-replace in Word

Microsoft Word’s onboard find-and-replace tool enables you to locate and fix problems in your document quickly. This free ebooklet, The Author’s Proofreading Companion, includes a range of handy strings and wildcard searches.

5. Set up styles in Word

Word's styles palette ensures the different elements of your text are formatted consistently. This tutorial shows you how to set up, assign and amend styles. It'll save you heaps of time whether you're working on business documents, web copy, short stories or novels.

Video tutorial
Written tutorial

6. Trade with a colleague

If you want fresh eyes but budget's an issue, swap quality-control checking with a colleague or friend in the same position. Pick someone who has a strong command of language, spelling and grammar.

Even if they're not a professional editor, they're wearing the hat of the reader, not the originator, and that means they'll spot things you missed.

7. Tools that locate inconsistent spelling

Here are 2 tools to help you locate inconsistent spelling:

TextSTAT: This concordance software generates simple alphabetized word lists that flag up potential problems
ProperNounAlyse: An excellent macro from editor Paul Beverley that highlights potential inconsistencies in proper-noun usage

8. Run The Bookalyser

The Bookalyser analyses a text for inconsistencies, errors and poor style: 70 different tests across 17 report areas in about 20 seconds, for up to 200,000 words at once. It works on fiction and non-fiction, and for British and American English.

9. Run Word’s onboard Check Document tool

Microsoft Word has an onboard document-checking tool that flags up potential spelling and grammar problems. It's not foolproof (no software is) but it's a second pair of digital eyes that's available at a click.

Go to the ribbon, click on the Review tab, and select the Check Document button.

10. Read it out loud

Read the text out loud. Your brain works faster than your mouth and you might well spot missing words, grammar flops and problems with sentence flow when you turn the written word into the spoken word!

Word also has an onboard narration tool that can do the speaking for you. There’s a tutorial here: ‘Hear text read aloud with Narrator’.

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What are the different types of novel editing?

16/3/2020

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There are different types of novel editing: developmental editing, line editing, copyediting and proofreading. Revising in the right order is essential if you want your book to be in the best shape possible.

Feel free to enjoy this blog, and watch the complementary webinar or download the free ebook too.

Developmental editing
Developmental editing comes first. This is big-picture work that involves looking at the story as a whole.

You’ll also hear it called structural editing, perhaps even content editing, and the base components always include plot, structure, characterization, pace, viewpoint, narrative style, and tense.

Plot: This is the sequence of events that take the reader from the beginning to the end.
Structure: This determines how the plot is organized. Even if B occurred after A, the reader might learn about B before the events of A are unveiled.
Characterization: This is how characters are represented such that we can make sense of their behavior as we journey with them through the story.
Pace: Pacing is about the speed at which the story unfolds. Effective pace ensures readers feel neither rushed nor bored. That doesn’t mean the pace remains steady; a story can include sections of fast-paced action and slower cool-downs.
Viewpoint: In each chapter or section, readers should understand who the narrator is—whose eyes they are seeing through, whose emotions they have access to, whose voice dominates the narrative. It also means understanding the restrictions in play such that head-hopping doesn’t pull the reader out of the story.
Narrative style: Is the narrative viewpoint conveyed in the first, second or third person? The choice determines a narrative’s style.
Tense: Is the story told in the present or the past tense? Each has its benefits and limitations.

3 things you should know about developmental editing

There are different types of developmental edits—full-novel edits in which the editor revises (or suggests revisions) that will improve story; critiques or manuscript evaluations that report on the strengths and weaknesses of story; and sensitivity reads that offer specialist reports on the potential misrepresentation and devaluation of marginalized others.
Different editors handle developmental edits in different ways. One might include an assessment of genre and marketability; another might not. Some editors revise the raw text; others restrict the edit to margin markup. Check what you’re being offered against what you want.
Developmental editing isn’t about checking spelling, grammar, and punctuation.

Line editing
Line editing is the next step in the revision process and it is stylistic work.

A strong sentence elevates story; a poorly crafted one can bury it. This level of editing revises for style, sense, and flow.

You might also hear line editing referred to as substantive editing or stylistic editing. Editors will be addressing the following:

Authenticity of phrasing and word choice in relation to character voice
Character-trait consistency and unveiling
Clarity and consistency of viewpoint and narrative style
Cliché and awkward metaphor
Dialogue and how it conveys voice, mood, and intention
Sentence pace and flow, with special attention to repetition and overwriting
Tenses, and whether they’re effective and consistent
Told versus shown prose

3 things you should know about line editing

There are different types of sentence-level edits—full-novel line edits in which the editor revises (or suggests revisions) that will improve the line work; line critiques that report on the strengths and weaknesses of the line craft; and mini line edits in which the editor revises an agreed section of the novel such that the author can hone their line craft and mimic the edit throughout the rest of the novel.
Different editors define their sentence-level services differently. Some include technical checking (copyediting) with the stylistic work, while some do the stylistic and technical work in separate passes. Check what you’re being offered against what you want.
Line-editing stage is not the ideal place to be fixing problems with plot, theme, pace and viewpoint. Fixes are likely to inelegant and invasive.

Copyediting
Copyediting is the technical side of sentence-level work. Editors will be addressing the following:

Chapter sequencing
Consistency of proper-noun spelling
Dialogue tagging and punctuation
Letter, word, line, and paragraph spacing
Logic of timeline, environment, and character traits
Spelling, grammar, syntax, punctuation, hyphenation, and capitalization
Standard document formatting

3 things you should know about copyediting

Some editors offer line editing and copyediting together in a single pass. That combined service might be indicated by what it’s called, e.g. ‘line-/copyediting’. However, it might be called just ‘copyediting’ even though it includes stylistic work. Again, check what you’re being offered against what you want.
Novel copyediting is best done in a single pass. When an editor works on separate chunks of text, inconsistencies are likely to slip through.
One pass of a sentence-level edit is not enough to ready a novel for publication. Final quality control is necessary.

Proofreading
Proofreading is the last stage of the editing process prior to publication. Every novel, whether it’s being delivered in print or digitally, requires a final quality-control check.
A proofreader looks for literal errors and layout problems that slipped through previous rounds of revision or were introduced at design stage.

Authors preparing for print can ask a proofreader to annotate page proofs. These are almost what a reader would see if they pulled the novel off the shelf. Others ask proofreaders to amend the raw text, either because they’re preparing for epublication or for audiobook narration.

Proofreaders are more than typo hunters. They check for consistency of spelling, punctuation and grammar, but also for layout problems such as (but not limited to) indentation, line spacing, inconsistent chapter drops, missing page numbers, and font and heading styles. The remit is extensive (download a free checklist).

The art of good proofreading lies in knowing when to change and when to leave well enough alone. A good proofreader should understand the impact of their revisions—not only in relation to the knock-on effect on other pages but also to the cost if a third-party designer/formatter is part of the team.

3 things you should know about proofreading

A proofread is rarely enough, no matter how experienced the writer. It’s the last line of defense, not the only line of defense.
Be sure to clarify with an editor what you want and which mediums the editor works with. Proofreading designed page proofs requires an additional level of checking that a raw-text review doesn’t. And some editors work only on raw text, some only on PDF, and some only on hard copy.
Proofreading is about quality control. The proofreader should be polishing the manuscript, not filling in plot holes or trimming purple prose.

Which type of editing do you need?
Authors need to take their books through all the types of editing. That doesn’t mean hiring third party professionals for each stage. Writing groups, self-study courses, how-to books, and self-publishing organizations are all great sources of editorial support.

If you decide to work with a professional, invest in one who can help you where you’re weakest. You might be a great structural self-editor but prone to overwriting. Or you might have nailed line craft but need help with story development.

And pay attention to the order of play when it comes to revision. Fixing plot holes at proofreading stage might damage previous rounds of editing. That’s a waste of time and money that every writer wants to avoid!

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How to edit fiction at sentence level

26/2/2020

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Want to hone your line craft so that the sentences in your novel elevate story rather than burying it? My latest book, Editing Fiction at Sentence Level, shows you how to do it.

"Editing Fiction at Sentence Level is my one-stop-shop resource. Highly recommended."

ANDY MASLEN, CRIME WRITER

FOR EDITORS, PROOFREADERS AND WRITERS

Case study

Author checklist

1. Create a style guide

​2. Use a page-proofs checklist

3. Run PerfectIt

4. Use find-and-replace in Word

5. Set up styles in Word

6. Trade with a colleague

7. Tools that locate inconsistent spelling

8. Run The Bookalyser

9. Run Word’s onboard Check Document tool

10. Read it out loud

2. Use a page-proofs checklist