Why writers need editors

Why I spent good money to have someone make me cry

Many years ago, I met an aspiring writer who believed that editors were a waste of time.

‘Editors are all just failed writers!’ they proclaimed to the local writing group we were both part of. ‘How can they know better than me how I should write my book?’

I was inclined to agree, nodding along, buoyed by my friend’s apparent confidence and certainty. Back then, when the idea of sharing my work with anyone was a panic-inducing horror, the thought of someone critiquing my work made me want to climb under a rock and never come out.

And then, I worked with an editor.

The first time I received editorial notes on the manuscript of my first novel, I cried.

The editor in question was experienced, kind, wise and tactful. She was someone I admired and liked very much. I trusted her judgement.

She was also the editor who had said yes, the publishing gatekeeper who was turning me from aspiring writer to published author. She had taken a chance on me. We both had skin in the game. And I knew, logically, that we were both working toward the same thing – to make my book the best it could be.

None of that mattered.

The day I received that report, I was a miserable, snotty wreck.

There followed three days of despair. I was overwhelmed by certainty that I couldn't do the work that was needed. I couldn't face going back to this novel that I had already rewritten seven times. The book I had devoted myself to for four years and poured every ounce of my hope and dreams into. I couldn’t bear to change another word.

I went through several stages of grief: denial, anger, bargaining, depression.

On day four I entered acceptance.

On day five, I began to get ideas, because the things that she had picked up were things that I already knew deep down were wrong with the book. She had astutely pinpointed areas where I felt uncertain, where I had fudged things, those elements I had never been quite happy with.

But she had also noticed things that I couldn’t. She could see the big picture. She could tell where the pace flagged, where a character needed development, and – crucially – where plot logic wasn’t clear. She could see all the things that I couldn’t because I was too close.

And she made suggestions about how to improve them. This to me is the difference between basic critical feedback and professional, informed feedback – a good developmental editor has ideas about how to fix stuff.

After a few days of wailing into my tea, those suggestions took root. My subconscious had been hard at work. By day six, I had a tentative plan. By day seven I was ready to get back to work, nervously excited by the idea that the book could be even better than it already was.

That week was a rollercoaster. The upset and despair, the anger, the hopelessness, and then, new ideas budding and fresh motivation.

In the end, I did the work – of course – and the book was better for it. I learned that books are created in collaboration with others. All those publishing professionals who contribute to the making of a book are important, but none more so than the editor.

I also learned much about what happens when I get feedback, and after similar experiences with my subsequent books, I learned not to fear it, but to embrace it and ride out the difficult emotions, safe in the knowledge that I would find a way forward eventually.

I’ve come to enjoy and appreciate the editing process. I love the collaboration. I love how someone else’s ideas can spark fresh thinking of my own – ideas I would never have thought of if I had not entered that conversation.

So, In January of this year, I handed my epic novel-in-progress over to that same editor. Things have changed in the twelve years since. She is now freelance, and I chose to invest my own money to work privately with her.

In the intervening years, I have become an editor myself. In six years on the other side of the writer/editor relationship, including three years as editor of The Royal Literary Fund’s Collected magazine, working with some of the country’s top writers, I have learned so much.

This time, the experience has been very different. I went into it eyes open, ready for whatever came back. A month later I received her report. This time, no tears!

Instead, I felt buoyant. (It’s not complete crap!)

Relieved. (It works – almost!)

Encouraged. (By a new perspective.)

And, most of all, amazed, once again, by how little we writers can tell about how our work will be received.

Often, we are far too close to our own writing to understand how a reader will perceive it. We know our books inside and out, every word on every page. We know intimately every character, nuance, motivation and emotion. We know too much, and we get stuck, unable to see it differently. It's often impossible for us to tell whether we have communicated everything to the reader. We need a fresh eye. We need beta readers to tell us what's working and what isn't. To ask us questions that make us think and bring fresh perspective.

And that's all an editor is really, a reader with a keen eye and an understanding of how stories work.

Of course, reading is subjective and can only ever be one opinion. But a good developmental editor should be able to take a wider view. They can look at your book in a wider context and help you figure out how to make your story the best version of itself, with the best chance of publication – if that’s what you want. That's something your family and friends can’t do.

Good editorial guidance is not cheap. Anyone with experience, knowledge and professionalism should be charging significant money. I fully understand and acknowledge this. And I’m not saying that you need to have your work professionally edited before seeking publication – I didn’t. But if the idea scares you, as it once scared me, I hope this gives a little insight and reassurance and helps you to see working with an editor as a positive, exciting and collaborative part of the writing process.

At the end of the day, we all want the same thing – to write and read the best books we possibly can.

If anybody is looking for a developmental editor I can recommend, wholeheartedly and without reservation, my editor Claire Baldwin. Claire has edited all my books to date. You can find her on Reedsy.

Save the date!

My first monthly live workshop for subscribers will be Thursday 23rd May 2024 at 6-7pm UK time, so pop it in your diary now and I’ll send all the info next week!

For this first one, I’m opening it up to ALL subscribers – free or paid members, so come along and see what The Inkwell all about. (In future they’ll be for members only - and yes, there will be a replay!)