Beta readers may do a lot of things for authors, but aside from pointing out confusion in a manuscript and revealing aspects that are lacking in the story, the most important task they perform is to bolster the writer’s self-confidence. 
  
If you’re not using beta readers as part of your writing process, the reasons you should are many. I can’t imagine surviving the road to publication without them. But before I get to that, let’s talk a little bit about these people and where they fit in the editorial process. 
 
At their most basic, beta readers are the first responders to your manuscript. After you’ve toiled over your novel-in-progress for weeks or months or years, and you’ve deemed it ready for another reader’s eyes, betas step up to the plate. 
  
Anyone who likes to read and vows to be gently honest—emphasis on gently—about how they feel about your work will do: friend, relative, complete stranger. Writers in general make better betas than nonwriters do because they usually have a greater level of understanding of story structure. The more detailed a beta reader can be when giving feedback, the better.  

I have beta readers who provide very few in-line notes and instead respond to the book as a whole in an overview, and I have other betas who give me notes all the way through the manuscript. There is value in both methods, though I feel it’s imperative to obtain at least one detailed reading with many in-line notes. In my “pool” of beta readers (I use at least six per book), I make sure I have two who will provide comprehensive feedback.  

The best betas are amateur developmental editors in that they concentrate their suggestions on the larger parts of the story: the content and characters, and not the commas. They comment on plot, pacing, characterization, and setting, letting you know where you’ve gone astray. They tell you where a scene falls flat and where they’re confused.  

Why are they crucial to your process? 

As writers, we all do things in our writing that we think are just fine but that don’t, for whatever reason, work for readers. If no one points out these blunders for us, they remain in the story, potentially rubbing readers the wrong way. These may be small issues or large ones. 
  
The problem with self-editing is that our brain glides right over most of what we’ve written because it understands what we’ve meant to say (even if what we mean to say doesn’t exactly appear on the page). 
 
Our mind can visualize our characters and what they’re doing, so it may not think to raise an alarm and shout, “Hey, this isn’t working,” or “Maybe this isn’t a good idea.”  

The beta reader can guide our focus to these problem areas so that we can fix them before we spend a lot of money on a developmental editor (the next step in the editorial process), who will help fine-tune the deeper, harder-to-grasp issues that may linger below the surface—those a beta reader doesn’t likely have the skills to pick up.  

Beta readers clear away the lower-hanging fruit so the pro can more easily reach, and comment on, a deeper level.  

How do betas create self-confidence? 

If you ask your beta readers to, they will also tell you when you’ve impressed them with your storytelling or wordsmithing—and who doesn’t love that? The brain is equally oblivious to the “good” that we’ve done as it is to the bad.  

Pointing out the impressive parts of our novel—the lines that sing, the twists that blow them away, the delightful quirks you’ve given your character and how they bring those characters to life—may actually be the betas’ most valuable role. No one will comment more precisely on your book than those you enlist in the beta-reading task. In other words, it’s likely that you’ll never hear more from readers than you will during this phase.  
 
It’s gratifying to learn that what we’ve written moved a beta reader emotionally or made them stop and highlight our painterly turn of phrase. Of course, we want to know all that’s missing or wrong with our story—we rely on others to point out our missteps—but our beta readers’ happy or intrigued or thrilled notes build us up and remind us that we’ve made a lot of solid choices in our story in addition to making a few mistakes.  

Seeing what we’ve done right reminds us that we are good writers. That we have what it takes to impress a reader with our skills. That plenty of the scenes we wrote do work, and that the climax is both brutal and amazing.  
  
Betas are the first to let us know they’ve understood our jokes and humorous circumstances (which either made them LOL or grimace), our tragic love stories (which either made them cringe or cry), and our tender moments of reflection (which hit the nail on the head or missed the mark). 
  
The comments and compliments they provide are the gold that keeps us going through each manuscript revision, through every edit, through countless rounds of proofreading and fixes. Yes, we’ve made mistakes, and the manuscript has its weaknesses that we aim to work out, but the writing is worthy, moving, has potential. There is strong work here, and because you’re in the beta-reading phase there’s time to transform what needs help into something wonderful (or at least better).  

Your betas have reassured you of that.  

Down the road, when a reviewer leaves a few words about how disappointed they were with the story (every book gets a few of these), when they sum up your hard work with a couple of thoughtlessly scrawled phrases, they probably won’t add, “But, wow, this metaphor she wrote made my head spin in the best of ways!” There won’t be any specifics at all. The wonderful details that make up your book will not enter their critique.  

But thanks to the gold your beta readers gave you, you can remind yourself that you know your work is of value. Even if it didn’t resonate with this particular reader, it did resonate with others.  

No one can take that from you. Whenever you need it, it will be there, bolstering you up, protecting you from the damage those inevitable harsh words that come flying out of the blue can do to a writer. 

When you send your manuscript to your beta pool, give them a short list of tasks to keep in mind.  

1. Focus on the content: the story, not the commas.
2. Point out any confusion.
3. Make a note in any place that moves too slowly or any detail that seems wrong or off.
4. Feel free to mention anything you particularly like! 

With their “here’s what works, here’s what doesn’t” critique, betas are on your side. Think of them as the light—and the confidence—that shines a way to a better novel than the one you’ve written all by yourself.  

Where can I find beta readers? 

The best way to find a good beta reader is old-fashioned word of mouth. Aside from that, you can reach out and take your chances. All feedback that you receive has the potential to be valuable. It also has the potential to be damaging. If the comments are harsh or overwhelming, feel free to set them aside. What you want is helpful, constructive criticism that makes sense to you. If it doesn’t resonate, do not feel obligated to follow through.  

The post Beyond Feedback: Beta Readers Give Us Gold appeared first on Writer's Digest.

(5 Things to Know When Writing With Friends.)

Don’t be that person who makes them nervous. Here are five tips to help you give feedback that is both compassionate and useful.

1. Be specific.

The most helpful feedback points to specific things in the text. Instead of saying, “I found it boring,” highlight exactly where your attention started to drift. Instead of “This character is unbelievable,” try something like, “I’m finding it hard to understand Brenda’s motivation for quitting their job.” This technique also helps you discuss the writing through a less emotional lens. It’s about the writer and their writing, not your own feelings.

2. Include positive comments.

Some people think “critique” means identifying all the bad parts or revealing all the flaws. The word “critique” comes from French, where it means “examining the merits” of something, usually art. It’s only when “critique” migrated to English that it took on these judgy overtones. Part of your job as giver-of-feedback is to say what the writer has done well. Again, be specific. Congratulate them on finishing the piece. That’s already an achievement.

3. Offer questions and suggestions.

It can be tempting to show your writer buddy how to do it better. Avoid this temptation. Just ask questions and offer your commentary. Don’t rewrite the text in your own voice. Every writer has a style. Rewriting the text makes it yours, not theirs. If you want to modify the text, use Track Changes or another method that retains the original version. But don’t just make changes. Say why you think the change improves the text. Be sure to state clearly that these changes are only suggestions. It’s up to the writer to decide what works for them.

4. Focus on a few big things.

It’s most helpful to focus on a few areas for improvement. Too much feedback can lead to information overload—or, in the worst case, despair. You don’t want the other writer to give up on the piece just because it needs a polish. Pick a few points to focus on. Big-picture stuff like plot holes or inconsistent characterization. Never proofread or “fix” grammar mistakes, unless they’ve explicitly asked you to. That stuff comes at the very end, once the final draft is nailed down. There’s no point in fixing stuff that might be cut out or rewritten, and it leads the writer’s attention in the wrong direction. It can also come off as pedantic or teacher-y, even if you mean well.

5. Thank them for trusting you with their words.

We writers care about our writing. Sometimes to the extent that any negative comment feels like a knife to the chest. Death by a thousand cuts. Putting our work out there, even showing it to one other person, takes courage. Keep that in mind, always. Acknowledge their trust in you. Doing so can alleviate some anxiety around getting feedback. Almost any piece of writing can be improved. An early reader always has thoughts on how to do that. But start out by recognizing that they have just handed you a piece of their heart. Handle with care.

The post How to Give Gentle and Helpful Feedback to Writers appeared first on Writer's Digest.

Millions of amazing stories never make it through the editing phase, languishing forever in drawers, unfinished and unshared. Others make it onto Amazon only to end up with disappointing sales and one-star reviews.

This is often because the author was never taught the essential art of creative story editing.

What Is Creative Story Editing?

Creative story editing mixes literary artistry with craft knowledge to make your story more impactful. It’s the process of objectively evaluating your draft using techniques that successful authors have used for thousands of years.

Fictionary’s Story Editing Software

Creative story editing is complicated, but Fictionary makes it simple.

The story editing software guides you through a step-by-step developmental edit, helping you focus on the key story elements that have the biggest impact.

Our 9-step Story Editing Journey is a tried and tested process that’s been used by thousands of writers to make story editing less overwhelming. The automated Story Insights, including the popular Story Arc generator, will help you see your story in a whole new way.

Fictionary Live! Guided Editing Courses

If you are really serious about staying on track and reaching “The End,” then Fictionary Live! is the surefire way to get your manuscript over the finish line.

Take part in six-week guided courses that walk you through every step of the writing journey:

• 6 Weeks to Outline Your Novel (April 8 – May 13 & May 23 – June 27)
• How to Write Scenes Using Deep Structure (April 10 – May 15)
• 6 Weeks to Edit Your Romance Novel (April 30 – June 4)
• 6 Weeks to Outline Your Entire Series (May 8 – June 12)
• Novel Editing Part 1: Evaluate and Identify Issues (May 30 – July 4)

Each course is taught live by an experienced Fictionary Certified StoryCoach Editor. They assign weekly editing tasks, answer questions, and help you make your manuscript stronger with every session.

Fictionary Helps You Share Your Story with Confidence

Creative story editing with StoryTeller Software and the guidance of Fictionary Certified StoryCoach Editors has helped hundreds of authors feel confident that their story is ready for readers.

Take a free trial today and use coupon code WD25 to get 25% off StoryTeller or StoryTeller Premium (includes Fictionary Live! Guided editing courses).

Take a free two-week trial today

The post Creative Story Editing: Introducing Fictionary’s Developmental Self-Editing Framework appeared first on Writer's Digest.

After 15 years of freelancing and working smoothly with dozens and dozens of editors, it was finally the day of the dromedary. I pitched an article to a great outlet I wanted to write for … and my luck ran out.

Now, I should add up front that having worked as both a writer and magazine editor, I love the editorial process and the value of a solid collaboration. If anything, I let too much slide. I hate conflict and am largely a wimp. I’m overly polite. I’ve been mistaken for being a kindly Canadian.

But as a career writer, your byline is all you’ve got—and so you better defend its honor when you’re chosen for trial by editorial combat.

What do you do when an editor takes your piece and nukes it, rewrites chunks of it in a different voice, introduces facts that are incorrect, makes use of personal pronouns on your behalf, and publishes it without giving you a glimpse?

After trying (and failing) to convince yourself that “you’ll laugh about this someday!” you get to work.

Here’s a guide—for both nonfiction and fiction writers—to corralling that fateful camel, should it ever come marauding into your literary livelihood.

1. Process the Process

First things first: It’s key to understand the essential editorial process so you can discern between basic edits and their more vexing counterparts. In a nutshell, for a print or website article, after you flesh out the idea with your editor and turn in a draft, the editor will assess the copy and offer suggestions, questions readers may be wondering, and so on, which they’ll then kick back to you. After you address the revisions, you’ll send it back to the editor, who may do additional rounds of said back and forth until you both arrive at the final copy, with the editor cleaning up routine surface-level things like grammatical errors, awkward phrasing, and similar items in the process. Book publishers can vary in their approach but tend to follow a similar method.

The heavy-handedness of any given editor varies by person. I’ve known editors who put on a butcher’s apron, turn Track Changes and heavy metal on, and leave words screaming in horror-movie fashion. I’ve known others who prefer not to touch anything outside of objective grammatical fixes, leaving it to the writer to make any requested tweaks (even the comically minute). If an editor does any substantial overhauling, rearranging, or rephrasing, they’ll usually give the writer a look at the result to avoid factual errors.

Usually, the process is symbiotic. After all, the writer and editor have the same goal: a great story. When I was a full-time editor, I was asked on a panel at a writing conference if I had an editorial philosophy, a guiding principle. I went full Hippocrates: Do no harm. Most editors would agree.

2. Watch for the Warning Signs

If my guard had been up, I’d have heard the camels grunting in the distance as they made a beeline for my Google Doc. First, the editor proposed a completely different concept than I had pitched. Which is fine! I’ve asked countless writers to adjust their pitches to fit a particular audience or thematic issue. Problem was, the editor wanted this entire article to be based on a one-sentence headline he had written and I had slightly tweaked … which leaves room for a gulf of miscommunication and misinterpretation. Next, the examples he sent were all over the map … and didn’t seem to provide a logical guide for what the piece should be. Third, responses to emails were days, and sometimes weeks, apart—not uncommon for a busy editor. But also indicative of an editor who doesn’t have a wealth of time to spend on any given article, and maybe hasn’t truly thought this piece through.

Do what I didn’t: Solidify and clarify everything up front in writing. Ask every question. And don’t be afraid to take the piece elsewhere if you don’t like the answers you’re getting back—or if you’re not getting answers. Mind your intuition—and don’t throw caution to the wind simply because you want a new byline in your bio (guilty as charged!).

3. Melt Down

I waited for further communiques from my editor … and then I noticed a Google Alert for my name. A surprise: The piece was live! Confused but excited, I hopped online … and discovered the issues mentioned above, and then some.

This exact scenario likely won’t ever happen to you, but this advice applies to any edit at any stage of the process: This is the part where you’re allowed to spiral. Belt out a few expletives. Have a day drink! If you have the luxury of doing so, indulge in some retail therapy or blow off work for the rest of the afternoon and go for an expansive dog walk. It’s cathartic—and it’s also critical to getting to the next step. The most important thing: Do not impulsively reach out to your editor at this moment. The key is to first drain the emotion from the conversation.

4. Write It Out

We’re all writers here. So, write it out! Deconstruct what’s wrong with the piece. Write down every single thing that bothers you about it, without paying attention to the veracity or egregiousness of any given item—yet. When you have your list compiled, ranging from grammatical errors that have accidentally been introduced to verbiage that simply does not align with your voice, begin to organize your grievances. I structured mine into four buckets: Factual Errors, Stylistic/Phrasing Issues, Personal Preference Quirks, Me Being a Diva—with the level of urgency following those tiers. Since there was an array of issues in the first two columns, I decided to focus on addressing those and let the more nitpicky items go. Seeing everything laid out on paper will give you objectivity and perspective.

5. Pencil in Another Writer

As you’re going about this process (especially if you have an infusion of Catholic guilt and the Midwestern people-pleasing gene, as I do), you’ll likely begin to wonder if the edit is really as bad as you think it is, or if you’ve just gotten too far into your own head. It’s a fair question—so confidentially consult a trusted writer friend. If they want to help you out, give them a recap of the correspondence, the comments and notes on the draft of the piece, and the final result. Ask them to be candid with you and provide a reality check.

Most importantly: As you’re going through all of this, do not feel bad. You’re advocating for yourself and your work. Our words live forever on the web—and we must empower ourselves to fight for them.

6. Choose Your Adventure

As a writer, I absolutely hate talking on the phone—but freely acknowledge that most people are better at it than me. On the page is where I feel most in control, and that is a huge asset here (you also have the boon of a paper trail). So, select the communication method that will allow you to be your most effective, then draft the talking points or your email. Be explicit and clear about what changes you’re requesting.

Before hitting send or making the call, think through different scenarios. Again: You don’t want to be reactionary. When it comes down to it, the editing world is a small place, and most editors are well-connected. I thought through my reaction for: a) a measured response; b) an angry response; and c) a nonresponse.

I’d decided that if he would make the targeted tweaks I had requested to make the piece factually correct and better overall, I could live with it. If he wouldn’t, I’d move on to more aggressive options (more on that in a moment).

7. Don’t Get Greedy

When I sent my email requesting tweaks, I got an immediate reply … though it was one I had not prepped for: a vacation out-of-office. After I collected the pieces of my exploded head from various points around the house, I regrouped and again recentered.

Ultimately, to my immense relief, the publication was open to the tweaks. I considered getting greedy and venturing into more changes … but decided to stop while I was ahead. As a former editor, I know how writers can take a thread and keep pulling and pulling until it spins into a living document. So with the goals I’d outlined fulfilled, I called it a day.

8. Consider the Nuclear Option (Carefully)

Had things not worked out, I was prepared for the nuclear option: asking them to either take my name off the piece, or to take it down. I’ve never had to go to such an extreme in my career. The most important thing to consider: Can you live with a prospective future editor discovering the piece and judging your work based on it? Had I pursued the nuclear option, I’d have done so as professionally as any other interaction. And that’s key: It’s business. Edits are rarely malicious. In all likelihood, my editor was probably rushing to get pieces scheduled before he headed out on vacation.

9. Foolproof Yourself for the Future

The biggest takeaway: As writers, we shouldn’t take any part of the editorial process for granted. For example: If I really ripped into someone’s piece at a magazine (and I have, many times!), I’d send them a galley for review—mainly because I didn’t want to blindside them, but also to make sure I hadn’t damaged anything. Going forward, I’m going to ask, in writing, for a cursory glimpse of the piece before publication—which would have prevented this entire episode from happening.

*****

Editing is a painfully subjective game, and there is no Standardized Operating Procedure or code of conduct. My editor likely believed he was making the piece better. In an ideal world, the key to solving a clash of opinions with an editor is often a matter of mindset—calmly working with them to split the difference, and knowing when to shake hands and call it a day. Some editors you’ll get along with marvelously. Others, the best thing you can do is bid thanks and well-wishes, hop on your camel, and go your separate way (deploying your middle finger only if it’s part of a peace sign).

In the end, I may have only been able to iron out the humps of my camel a tiny bit—but hey, I’ve been chuckling the whole time I’ve been writing this. As it turns out, I would indeed laugh about it someday.

Click to continue. 

The post How to Deal With a Nightmare Edit appeared first on Writer's Digest.

(Using Beats to Improve Dialogue and Action in Scenes.)

Some writers think in binary terms of “rough draft” and “final draft” when it comes to process. However, writing is more nuanced than that. Additionally, making one “rough” pass through a project followed by one “final” pass does not necessarily result in the best outcome.

Instead, writers may benefit from approaching projects with a three-part process. This is an approach I teach my college students in their first-year writing courses, though the method can be applied to writers at all stages and across genres.

The three-part process is this: prewriting, writing, and rewriting. Let’s learn more about each stage and how writers can adapt this to their individual methods and goals.

Part One: Prewriting. 

The prefix “pre” means “before,” so this is a good way to remember that there are things that may need to happen “before” you get started writing. Some of those might be environmental—like having a quiet workspace or the right kind of pen in hand—and some might be more personal—like carving out enough time in the day to write or learning to brainstorm. 

Some writers compose by outlines; some compose more spontaneously. In this prewriting stage, think about what makes you most comfortable as a writer, and work to cultivate that environment. 

Additionally, consider “before” tasks that you can complete that may make your project smoother once you start it. Do you need to perform research? Schedule an interview? Have certain books handy? Building in time for these tasks that need completion prior to a project can help you feel more confident and organized when you actually begin.

Part Two: Writing. 

This is where you put pen to paper (or pencil to paper … or fingers to the keyboard … or dictate your words … writers write in lots of different ways, after all!). 

In the writing stage, you are an inventor. You are inventing new sentences that have never been written. You are creating lines that no one has ever read. You are producing something brand new, and the process of doing that can be exhilarating. Enjoy the ride! 

As you do so, take pride in the decisions you are making. What’s the best title? How many paragraphs do you need? What kind of transition do you want to add? How do you want to conclude your project? These choices are yours to make as the author, so take time in this stage to explore all aspects of your project as those decisions take form.

Part Three: Rewriting. 

The prefix “re” means “again,” so this is a good way to remember that there are things that may need to happen “again,” after you have completed the writing stage. Editing and proofreading are important, but so are structural issues. 

Is your writing clearly organized? Does a certain part of it feel different than other parts? Might a new section need to be added? What about fact-checking and copyright permissions? As you look at your writing “again,” you may re-see things in a new way that prompts you to try a fresh approach.

Once you spend some time rewriting, you may also be led back to the prewriting stage. Perhaps you wish to include something new, or maybe there is a major overhaul of a certain part of your project that you want to address. This three-step process can be recursive, so you can complete the steps again as many times as you like.

So how do you know when to stop the process?

A project may be complete if you feel that any additional attempts at prewriting, writing, and rewriting will not yield productive changes. For instance, sometimes my college students complete this process once for a short essay, but they may go through the process multiple times for a more substantial project. Every writing situation is different, just like every writer is unique.

When writers take time to consider a process-based approach, they can help ensure that their final drafts are the very best that they can be. 

The post The Power of Process: Prewriting, Writing, and Rewriting appeared first on Writer's Digest.

I also edited The Penguin Book of Women’s Humor, The Signet Book of American Humor, Don’t Tell Mama: The Penguin Book of Italian American Writing, A Sit-Down with the Sopranos, Make Mine a Double, and many more.

In fact, the first books I ever published were works I edited. The third Sex and Death in Victorian Literature, which I initially wanted to title Coming and Going: Sex and Death in Victorian Literature came out in 1990. The too-obvious title was initially nixed by MacMillan of London, which agreed to publish the collection, and their reluctance was echoed by the University Press of Indiana which agreed to publish the American edition.

I was, however, able to use “Coming and Going” for the title of my introduction.

The first two books, Last Laughs: Perspectives on Women and Comedy (1988) and New Perspectives on Women and Comedy (1992)—both reprinted and newly released by Routledge in 2022—helped establish my academic reputation because they included brilliant essays written by some of the most distinguished scholars in the field of feminist studies, 20th-century literature, 19th-century literature, and cultural criticism.

As the editor of these collections, I could also exercise my privilege of including several emerging scholars of my own generation—and include in each one an essay of my own. I earned a seat at the grown-up’s table.

More significantly, I learned three valuable lessons before age 35 with those early volumes: 

1. Authors and editors are wise to accept the advice of their publishers; 
2. The editor has the luxury of inviting a range of contributors to participate in the project, and can help form intriguing and provocative conversations that will continue long after the publication of the volume, some of them lasting more than 30 years; 
3. There are ways to sneak what you really want to say into the work you’re doing, even if it means using methods either slightly unconventional or decidedly slight-of-hand (a la “Coming and Going” as the introduction’s title).

As I’ve written my own books, both trade and academic, I’ve kept up my passion for editing new collections—it becomes a luxury as well as a habit, like throwing dinner parties. Approached in 2019 by one of the founders of Woodhall Press, David LeGere (who just happens to be one of my former creative writing students) and asked whether I might consider doing a book gathering together women’s humorous flash nonfiction, I couldn’t resist.

Inviting writers to contribute was like inviting friends to a literary potluck: I knew the women I invited would all bring something delicious, satisfying, and irresistible. Some guests I knew only through reputation and felt breathless even daring to send them the request for their presences. Some I knew well enough to insist that they bring their signature fare. A few had barely entered a kitchen before yet had talent enough to whip up a fine offering from the ingredients they had at hand.

Fast Funny Women was published in 2021, with a gorgeous cover drawn by cartoonist/artists Mimi Pond who also contributed a brilliant essay. Other women in that book included Marge Piercy, Dawn Lundy Martin, Susan Shapiro, Fay Weldon, “Judge Judy” Sheindlin, Jo-Ann Mapson, and Liza Donnelly.

The book did so well, it was followed by Fast Fierce Women in 2022 (including essays by Maureen Corrigan, Phillis Levin, Leslie Morgan Steiner, Leighann Lord) and now by Fast Fallen Women, with the manuscript for Fast Famous Women in preparation for 2024.

Check out Gina Barreca’s Fast Fallen Women here:

Bookshop | Amazon

(WD uses affiliate links)

What advice did I give the contributors? What did I tell the writers who pitched ideas?

As the narrator, you have control over your story. You have a chance, especially in flash nonfiction, to make a playground of the thin overlay of social soil covering the minefields that are the emotional and intellectual landscape of our lives. That’s the fun part. Having to keep the pieces short—under 750 words—means seeing large subjects through small lenses. But a fanatical attention to detail mustn’t be mistaken for an appetite for minutiae when it is, in fact, a passion for sharply-focused observation.

All good writing reflects and illuminates life; the best short writing holds up a compact mirror.

To turn lived experience into a strong story, you must not only remember the details of experience but also dismantle them. You have to take apart the event, examine the pieces, and reassemble them in such a way that they retain the original shape of what happened but are now in better working condition for a reader. Your final piece might have a similar shape to how you imagined it initially, or you might discover that you created an entirely different narrative. 

You must enthrall your readers, bring them into the experience themselves, make them feel as if they both have a sense of what is inevitable but still don’t know—until you tell them—exactly how it ends. And the ending must seem inevitable, even if it is surprising. Any excellent work lets us know not only when a piece is finished but also delivers us the genuine and palpable satisfaction of an ending.

Of course, you can also rely on a good editor to help you know when it’s time to stop.

The post On Editing Anthologies of Writing appeared first on Writer's Digest.

That’s where a solid beta reader comes in.

The Importance of a Second Opinion

It’s easy to get lost in our own heads when we’re writing. Things make sense to us as the writer because it’s all immediate to us. But just like conversations can be jumbled when the words and feelings inside us are spoken aloud, so can stories.

Beta readers are the people who help work through that jumble on an early draft. Not the zero or first draft—that’s for you to figure out what story you’re telling. Once you’ve done an initial review and revision, a beta reader can provide feedback about whether you’re on the right track. They approach and respond to your work as a reader first, not as a writer.

This early review is important to help you, the writer, gain perspective. It’s an opportunity to see if the plot and emotional points land the way you want them to, whether the story is engaging, and what didn’t make sense.

It’s also a milestone to draw a line under drafting, especially if you’re someone who has rewritten draft after draft and doesn’t know what to do next. External feedback is key!

Before continuing, we should define what a beta reader is not:

• An editor
• A proofreader
• A sensitivity or cultural accuracy reader
• A critique partner (CP)

[Who Are Sensitivity Editors? And How Much Does Sensitivity Reading Pay?]

While some of the people offering those services may also do beta reading, you shouldn’t expect to receive editing or cultural reviews as part of a default beta read. You also shouldn’t necessarily expect targeted tips on how to fix things, like a CP might offer.

A beta reader is also not the last stage in your review process. Depending on your needs and publishing path, you may want to send your work for further review and editing before publication.

Getting Connected

Finding beta readers can be a challenge. Many writers turn to the #WritingCommunity on Twitter or elsewhere to find other writers to beta read their work. They might agree to a swap or other exchange for the time put into the reading and feedback. Beyond finding a beta reader, there may be additional challenges like slow turnaround times, genre mismatches, or the quality of the feedback received.

If you can afford it, one of the ways to add structure to the beta reading process is to pay for it as a service. Platforms like Fiverr can help you find and secure beta reading services, and you can check for things like genres read, feedback given, turnaround time, and reviews. For self-publishers trying to set a regular publishing schedule, this can be a good option to make sure you get quality feedback without missing deadlines.

For those wanting more structure without the upfront costs, the BetaBooks platform offers a mix of free and paid services.

What to Look for in a Beta Reader

Generally, it’s a good idea to look beyond friends and family to ensure more objective feedback. And while everyone is potentially a reader, that doesn’t mean everyone is potentially a good beta reader. Giving feedback requires empathy and a balance between critique and encouragement which will vary by the reader and the writer.

To start, think about how you receive feedback best. Do you need tough love or the compliment sandwich? Are you someone who needs to hear feedback or read it? Understanding this helps you find a beta reader who’s a match for you and sets you up to receive the feedback better.

Next, look for someone who reads (and loves!) the genre you write and who represents your target audience (this might require some market research). If you’re coming from a marginalized background or writing about sensitive topics, you might also consider checking whether a prospective beta reader either has similar experience or has demonstrated open-mindedness and empathy in online spaces.

Finally, be clear up front about needs, expectations, and deadlines.

Getting the Most Out of Beta Feedback

So, how else can you prepare in advance to get the best possible feedback? As with many things in life, it helps to know what you want before getting started.

Think about where you struggle with craft skills (like characterization, dialogue, world-building, setting, plotting, pacing, etc.) and outline a few questions for those. Then think about where you consider yourself strong, and cover some of those as well.

Example questions you might send with your manuscript include:

• Is there any point where they’d quit reading the book? If yes, why?
• Reaction to the characters: Were they believable and fully fleshed-out? Did their motives make sense?
• Plot concerns: Were there any glaring plot holes? Did they end the book with questions that should have been answered earlier?
• Ending: Was it satisfying? If the book is a part of a series, does it make them want to read the next book?

Don’t forget genre-specific questions as well.

Content warnings can also help. Far from giving away the plot, content warnings demonstrate respect for a reader’s time and sensibilities. They also ensure the feedback you receive is focused more on the story as a whole, rather than on a potentially objectionable section that elicits a strong reaction from the reader.

Lastly, prepare yourself mentally. Getting early feedback can be stressful for some.

Processing the Feedback

Once you’ve gotten your feedback, breathe.

The first thing to remember is that most of the time, feedback isn’t personal. Just like the things people say in our daily lives are often a reflection of them, their experiences, and the things they’re dealing with, beta reader feedback can be the same.

It can be especially tough if you’re called out for something harmful or insensitive in your writing—and this can happen despite the best of intentions and effort to learn! In this event, pause to consider where there might be gaps in your knowledge. And if you’re writing about something personal to you, remember that not everyone with similar backgrounds shares the exact same experiences.

Whether good or bad, it’s easy to take feedback to heart. Staying objective is important to improving as a writer. If there’s something that needs work, make a plan to shore it up in this story—and also to develop your skills for the next. If something is called out as great, are you able to reverse-engineer that or find a way to improve it further for future work?

The goal with feedback throughout the writing process is to understand where the vision has fallen short on delivery. It’s up to you as the writer to take or leave what’s offered.

You’ll also need to decide what to do about conflicting feedback if you engage with more than one beta reader. Again, bring it back to your goals. Which piece of feedback is more in line with the goal?

*****

Sharing your work with beta readers is the first step to sharing it with the world. Understanding what a beta reader is, where to find them, and your goals for engaging with beta readers can help you make the most of the experience. Now, go get some good feedback.

[Click to continue.]

The post Second Opinions: The Importance of Beta Readers for Authors appeared first on Writer's Digest.

**A terminology caveat—while some people use revising and editing interchangeably, I see that as an error. Because revision focuses on bigger-picture things such as plot, character, and structure, it should happen soon after you’ve got a full draft. Editing is the language- and sentence-level polishing that happens after you’re done revising. Why spend energy perfecting a scene’s language only to decide later that the entire scene needs to be jettisoned?**

With that, let’s examine my 10 best editing tips. Apply these as needed to your own writing, regardless of literary medium or genre.

1: Divide and Conquer

Many writers find editing to be daunting. It’s understandable—there are so many ways for words, phrases, sentences, and paragraphs to go wrong. But don’t despair. Harold Underdown, Executive Editor at Kane Press, offers this wise advice: “When looking for words to cut, don’t just do one pass through your manuscript. Plan multiple passes, each for a different category—adverbs, empty words, words you use too often. In each pass, don’t edit, just identify—highlighting is good. Then work through the manuscript one last time, considering and deleting or replacing all of the words you highlighted.”

In short, revise in stages to avoid being overwhelmed.

[Why You Should Embrace Extreme Editing]

2: Remove Redundancy

The first draft of a story is where authors discover the story for themselves—they’re the only audience at that point. Given that, it’s easy to see why overwriting is commonplace in early drafts. When it’s time to edit, though, redundancy in meaning should be addressed.

The gas line explosion at the Oakview Senior Center was a horrible tragedy.

Building the birdfeeder so close to the house was an unintentional mistake.

Don’t confuse purposeful repetition with redundancy. If you intend to use complementary words and phrases to enhance, that’s fine. But if you find yourself with some version of this—“The valiant, brave, staunch knight approached the dragon”—put on your editor’s hat and get to work.

3: Focus on Nouns

Similar to the above point, creating a laundry list of modifiers is an indication that a more effective noun might better serve the sentence. For example, would it be better to write “an ugly, frightful, old woman” or simply go with “hag”?

If you have the right noun, you don’t have to work hard to modify an almost-right one.

4: Replace Phrases With Words

Why use many words when just one will suffice?

· at the present time vs. now

· due to the fact that vs. because

· in close proximity vs. near

· in regard to vs. concerning

· in the event that vs. because

· with the exception of vs. except

Don’t be suckered into using bloated phrases that you’ve heard or read before. Trim and tighten if you can.

5: Dump Unimportant Details

Details are good, right? Consider the following, which is chock full of details.

Roger Worthington III hated Florida the moment he arrived in Bradenton to help his grandpa keep from losing his beloved tiki bar. The constant blazing heat of the Sunshine State drained the life out of him, and it wasn’t much better inside the beachside bar where the AC was always on the fritz. When Grandpa Lerner’s Alzheimer’s got so bad that he’d be as likely to serve a Manhattan as a mojito—regardless of what was ordered—Roger took over the bar completely. As the loans piled up and he sweated away his 30s, he began to hate every aspect of the business of running The Turtle Taproom. One day, Roger decided he’d had enough. When two yokels with a big city accent laughed their way to the barstools one Thursday night and ordered Bud Lights “with little umbrellas,” he wanted to punch someone. Anyone.

While it’s decent enough writing, you have to ask—what’s actually important in terms of plot, characterization, and theme? If Roger’s role in your story is simply a one-off bartender with no speaking part and all he does is play the role of a jerky bartender, the following might be all you need.

The sour-pussed bartender poured two beers.

Or maybe this,

The surly bartender muttered as he sloshed beer into two maybe-clean mugs.

If your story is all about loss and regret, or Roger is a recurring character, offering details of his backstory might be quite appropriate and useful.

6: Flip Negatives

Using a negative phrase often leads to flabby writing. Compare “Don’t walk too close to the lake!” to “Avoid the lake!” While both offer similar instructions, the latter is tighter and has more oomph.

A bonus to flipping negatives is that you’re losing the negative—the not vanishes. That means you’re left with a positive. While this creates a subtle effect, readers generally respond more favorably to positives than negatives.

7: Avoid Adverbs

In his wildly successful book On Writing, Stephen King says, “The adverb is not your friend.” In case that doesn’t make the point strongly enough, he adds, “The road to hell is paved with adverbs.”

Consider the following.

· I believe you.

· I totally believe you.

Doesn’t the second one sound like massive sarcasm? Even when -ly words aren’t undercutting or confusing the point of a sentence, they’re often just unnecessary—especially in dialogue tags. For example:

“Your meatloaf made me sick,” she quietly said.

“You’re the one who left out the milk!” he angrily said.

Instead of “quietly said,” could we use “whispered”? And would “shouted” work in lieu of “angrily said”?

Here’s the takeaway—if adverbs aren’t adding vital clarity, feed them to Pennywise, King’s killer clown.

8: Inflect Intentionally

When you inflect (conjugate) verbs, avoid overusing the -ing construction.

Compare “They were heading to the park” to “They headed for the park” or even “They went to the park.”

Doing so makes the sentence more immediate. And shorter!

9: Lose Intensifiers

When my kids were little, they tried to manipulate me by piling on words they hoped would help make their case for more toys at holiday and birthday time.

“I really, really, really want a Star Wars Bladebuilders Jedi Master Lightsaber!”

“You’re a very, very, very good dad. Totally. Completely!”

It didn’t work then, and it doesn’t work well now. Save the intensifiers (absolutely, completely, extremely, really, totally, utterly, very, etc.) for the rare occasion that you need the extra emphasis. Absent that, really, really, really avoid them—especially in dialogue (both real life and story), since that’s where people seem most tempted to over-intensify.

10: Use Tricky Words Correctly

Though this won’t reduce the word count, few words are more needless than the wrong ones. Put extra attention into the following situations:

· affect (influence) vs. effect (accomplish)

· compliment (praise) vs. complement (go well with)

· discreet (careful) vs. discrete (distinct)

· its (possessive) vs. it’s (it + is)

· principle (rule) vs. principal (authority figure)

· they’re (they + are) vs. their (possessive) vs. there (adverb of place)

· venomous (having a toxic bite or sting) vs. poisonous (toxins that are eaten)

· your (possessive pronoun of you) vs. you’re (you + are)

There are other commonly misused words, of course, but the above eight are what I find most often in early drafts (and sometimes late drafts!) of student and client stories.

11: Revisit One More Time (Bonus!)

You shouldn’t stay in revision or editing mode forever. But most writers end the editing process a smidge early, so even when you think you’ve done all you can, give it a few days or a week, then revisit it a final time. Often, that newfound distance will help you spot mistakes and story-improving tweaks you missed before.

I recommend reading your story aloud or having someone read it to you for this final pass. Consider recording yourself reading it and listening to it like an audiobook or podcast. Trust me—your ear will catch things that your eyes miss.

For 30 years, Lorin Oberweger has served as an independent book editor, ghostwriter, and writing workshop leader. During that time, she’s helped countless writers get control of their stories by showing them how to get control of their language.

“My advice is as true for writing content as it is for writing style,” she says. “Trust the reader and trust yourself. That means don’t pad your prose; don’t over-explain; don’t use filtering phrases to bring us into a character’s perspective—just put us there. Trust in your own excellence and dig deeper for the sharpest expression and the best words for the job.”

That’s it exactly: the best words for the job. Strive for excellence in the job of writing stories and your sales and reviews will show it.

Don’t take my word for it, though. Listen to Dr. Seuss who wisely wrote: “So the writer who breeds more words than he needs, is making a chore for the reader who reads.” Amen!

The post Omit Needless Words: Ruthless Editing 101 appeared first on Writer's Digest.

(Grammar rules for writers.)

Rather, we’re looking at bigger picture mistakes and mishaps, including the error of using too much exposition, neglecting research, or researching too much. This week’s writing mistake writers make is rushing the editing process.

Writing Mistakes Writers Make: Rushing the Editing Process

Listen, I get it. You wrote something amazing, you’re super proud of it, and you just want to wrap it in a nice little bow and get it off to your readers so you can work on the newest project that’s lighting you up. A cursory spell-check and making sure your formatting looks good should be enough to get this thing out to your readers, right?

And you might even think that your story doesn’t need editing. If that’s you, I would love to refer you to this wonderful article by Senior Editor Robert Lee Brewer: Writing Mistakes Writers Make: Refraining to Revise Writing.

But you’re doing yourself and your story a disservice by blowing through the revision process. It’s like someone telling you that they’re giving you a pearl and then handing you an oyster. Like, sure, you can do the work to get the pearl out yourself, but you weren’t promised an oyster … you were promised a pearl.

Naturally, your story has a few kinks that need to be worked out, even if you’ve done a cursory read-through after finishing the draft. And revisions can seem overwhelming, especially when you’re still wrapped up in post-writing exhaustion. However, approaching your revision process like a professional editor will up-level your work and give your audience a better reading experience.

Mistake Fix: Three-Part Revisions

When an author hands me a draft, as their editor, there’s a three-part process I know I’m about to dive into:

1. Developmental edits
2. Line edits
3. Proofreading

Don’t worry if you’re not familiar with these terms; a lot of writers, especially ones new to the industry, don’t recognize them.

Developmental edits are where you approach the story from the big picture. If you have a beta reader, this is where you’ll hand your manuscript off to them so they can analyze your draft for things like plot holes, scenes that go on for too long, scenes that need to be expanded, etc. Find yourself resisting the idea of having a beta reader? You might want to check out this article: Writing Mistakes Writers Make: Not Accepting Feedback on Your Writing. Or maybe you’re interested in using a beta reader but you’re not sure about the best way to receive feedback? This article might be helpful: Writing Mistakes Writers Make: Not Asking Questions in the Drafting Process.

If you’d like to tackle developmental edits on your own, I recommend shelving your draft for a short time (give yourself a deadline of 5-7 days, maybe), and then picking it up and reading it through the way that a new reader would. Are your themes coming through clearly? Does your timeline make sense? Is there a clear emotional arc for your character? Once you have a list of these big-picture items that need addressing, you can dive back into your manuscript and hammer out those kinks.

This is also the stage where I recommend that authors hire a professional sensitivity reader to review their work, even if you’ve done a developmental edit on your own. A sensitivity reader is a professional editor who is trained to look for offensive content, misrepresentation, stereotypes, bias, lack of understanding, etc. You can find these professional editors for hire on a site like Reedsy.

Here are two images of what my beta reader’s developmental edits look like:

The second phase is line editing. This will be a lot of your heavy lifting, as you’ll be going through your draft line by line and looking at the flow of your story. At this stage, you’re not looking at grammar; you’re looking at style. Do you tend to include a lot of long sentences in a row? Break some of those into smaller sentences to keep your reader engaged. Does your dialogue sound natural? Is your narrator’s voice consistent? I recommend that you actually read your manuscript out loud at this stage—it’ll eat up a lot of time, but you’ll catch all sorts of stylistic weirdness that you wouldn’t by reading silently. It’s a tried-and-true method I’ve used with a lot of my authors, and it’s always worked.

Here’s an example of what my line edits look like:

Proofreading will be your final stage. This is when you’re going back through your manuscript from beginning to end and only looking for grammar issues. If you’re not confident in your ability to spot things like errant commas, consider using a free resource like Grammarly, which now has add-ons for Microsoft Word and Google Docs, or even hiring a professional proofreader from a site like Reedsy. If you hire someone, just be sure to explain to them that you’re only looking for grammar issues.

Here’s an example of proofreading:

The key is not to rush this process and not let yourself get stuck in it. Once you finish one part of the editing process, make a promise to yourself to not go back unless it’s a dire emergency. If you’re in the proofreading stage and realize that you somehow deleted three important paragraphs from the second page of chapter 3, fine, go ahead and insert them, line edit them, and then continue your proofreading. But if you’re line editing and find yourself constantly coming up with new ideas and wanting to write whole new subplots or delete large swaths of text, it could be a sign that you’re not ready for the editing part of this book’s journey; give yourself more time in the writing stage or commit to the story as it stands.

And if you find yourself getting stuck in revisions, ask yourself if it’s really the story you’re unhappy with or if you’re giving into fear. I’ve worked with plenty of authors in my career who can’t seem to get the project over the finish line; heck, I’m a serial non-finisher of longer works as well. In my experience, that comes from a place of fear. Understanding exactly what you’re afraid of—is it being vulnerable in front of others? Fear of failure? Fear of success?—you can take steps to address that fear and get back to work. To help you get started on that process, I will leave you with two more articles from this series:

• Writing Mistakes Writers Make: Allowing Self-Doubt to Guide You
• Writing Mistakes Writers Make: Worrying About What Happens When You Make It Big

The post Writing Mistakes Writers Make: Rushing the Editing Process appeared first on Writer's Digest.

(Grammar rules for writers.)

Rather, we’re looking at bigger picture mistakes and mishaps, including the error of using too much exposition, neglecting research, or researching too much. This week’s writing mistake writers make is not asking questions in the drafting process.

Writing Mistakes Writers Make: Not Asking Questions in the Drafting Process

I’m not exactly sure when I first encountered the feedback process. I’ve been writing since I could write, so there was no defining, “and now I will learn how to revise my work with an outside perspective included.”

Mostly, I think our workshops—whether academic or local groups or private back-and-forths between friends—are based on what we learned in school. You write something; you hand it to your teacher; they tell you what they liked and didn’t like. The end.

But we shouldn’t approach our revision process as if it’s something we need to get a good grade on. That’s like locking ourselves in a cage and throwing away the key, and that’s not even getting into the fact that revisions should be fun. Our stories are living, breathing worlds that have complex and rich characters. I think at some point or another, we’ve all gotten a comment that “this image feels flat” or “this dialogue is clunky” or “your work is predictable.” But what the heck are we meant to do with that information?!

In our latest episode of the Writer’s Digest Presents podcast, Michael and I talked about the typical workshop structure as it relates to creative writing classes and MFA programs in particular. This structure can be, in a word, brutal, especially for students of color. Beth Nguyen wrote a wonderful article for LitHub in 2019 about this subject. And while not all of us have experience with workshops in an academic setting, I think the idea translates to our feedback process all the same.

For example, in an academic workshop, the idea is that everyone will have read the piece before class. Then the author will sit silently while everyone else discusses the piece as if the author isn’t there. While most workshop leaders will have people follow a format of praise-then-critique, this is not always the case. The author is not allowed to speak until the very end, where they are given a very brief window to respond to the discussion. The unspoken rule of workshop response: Don’t be defensive.

For local non-academic workshop groups I’ve been a part of, we follow a similar structure in a very different format: I give them my Word or Google doc, they read it and leave comments, and then I take that feedback into my writing lair and attempt to revise based on what’s been given to me. Then we move on to someone else’s piece. Very rarely do I follow up with the commenter; I don’t want to take up any more of my group’s time nit-picking about comments I don’t understand. Besides, it’s my job as the writer to make sense of the reader’s experience and move forward with my draft, is it not?

No, my dear friends. It is not.

(Writing Mistakes Writers Make: Not Accepting Feedback on Your Writing)

Mistake Fix: Individualize Your Feedback Structure

As an editor, I’ve run into so many different kinds of writers. I’ve had authors say, “Don’t be afraid to tear my work apart. I love that kind of direct feedback.” I’ve also heard authors say, “I’m feeling very insecure about this draft, so please go easy on me.”

As a writer diving into revisions, you should be able to control who your feedback comes from but also how it comes. Are you a visual learner who does well when someone writes paragraphs of feedback and sends it to you in an email for you to peruse at your leisure? Or an auditory learner who would prefer to jump on a call and discuss your reader’s feedback with them? (If this is you, I strongly recommend recording your conversations so that you can listen to them back at a later date—this way, nuggets of wisdom don’t fall through the cracks!)

If you’re overwhelmed by the prospect of getting a longer work’s feedback all at once, you can absolutely split up your document into smaller parts and give your reader the material piece by piece. Or, if you find that you never get feedback on the parts of your work that you really need feedback on, draft a cover letter asking people to focus on specific areas. Or, better yet, dictate the flow of feedback by only asking your critiquers to answer a series of questions that you ask—a workshop structure called The Asking—which will cut down on unnecessary chatter and give you pointed advice only on the aspects you want advice on.

As for workshop groups, if you find that you’re stuck in a particular pattern, don’t be afraid to speak up! You can say something like, “I really value the work and dedication this group has brought to improving my work. But I’ve found myself a little overwhelmed by feedback lately. Moving forward, it would be best for me to streamline my revision process if we approached my work X way.”

It’s important to keep your critiquers time and energy in mind as you’re asking for these changes. If what you really need is hours and hours more of their intense focus, maybe you should be looking to hire a freelance developmental editor instead. We don’t want to take advantage of your support system; we want to make your support system work just a little better for you.

Revisions can be a scary, daunting process, and it’s always a great idea to utilize your writing community when entering those waters. But that doesn’t mean you need to limit the way you receive feedback to the same rigid structure we’re used to.

Click to continue.

The post Writing Mistakes Writers Make: Not Asking Questions in the Drafting Process appeared first on Writer's Digest.