How to Finish Writing Someone Else’s Novel

From Publishers Weekly:

Rhoda Lerman was known as a writer’s writer. Jewish, feminist, inspired by spirituality and folklore, she was compared to Isaac Bashevis Singer and dubbed “the female Saul Bellow.” Having written works of fiction and nonfiction over a five-decade career, Rhoda died in 2015, leaving behind a novel she’d been working on for the previous 10 years. That’s where I came in.

It was literary agent Murray Weiss who first contacted me about Rhoda’s final manuscript (actually, manuscripts—there were a few different versions of the novel). He wondered if I might revise, consolidate, and basically do whatever editorial work was necessary to get her final brilliant work to market.

I don’t normally read an author’s backlist before taking on a project, but this wasn’t a normal job, and I was determined to stay true to Rhoda’s voice. Surely some sort of preparation was necessary. So, I did the world’s best kind of homework, savoring the exquisite pleasure of discovering a new writer, awestruck as I studied Rhoda’s remarkable body of work. Her novels featured long, brilliant sentences that surprised me again and again. (A PW review from April 1989 called her “the very opposite of a minimalist.”)

Each book was completely unlike the previous one. Rhoda must have driven her publishers crazy as they struggled to market and sell such a boundlessly imaginative storyteller. Her plots were unpredictable. She had no limits. In other words, Rhoda was a genius.

Weiss organized a phone interview for me with the Lerman family. When Bob spoke of his wife Rhoda, his love was palpable, and I sensed her strong spirit. It was clear how important it was to him and his two daughters to publish Rhoda’s masterwork. I gushed to them about how I adored her earlier novels—especially God’s Ear, a funny but serious book in which a real estate agent is tormented by his father’s mischievous ghost. With my enthusiasm for Rhoda’s work so evident, the gig was mine.

The manuscript I began work on was 150,000 words. Among other narrative goals, I hoped to deliver a finished work of 100,000. An editor’s job is to respect the author’s vision, but how does one make these changes and maintain an author’s integrity when one does not have her ear? I had to listen very carefully to Rhoda. I had to become Rhoda’s ear.

Rhoda’s new novel, Solimeos, might be characterized as literary, as her prose is exquisite. Maybe it’s satire. Also, it has elements of magical realism. It follows Axel von Pappendorf, a naive boy in World War II–era Germany whose father is an aristocratic Nazi linguist. After the war is lost, Axel and his family are spirited away to the Brazilian jungle to help create a new, occult-obsessed German Reich. Twisted passions, ayahuasca visions, startling historical discoveries, vengeance, and much more ensue. It’s a love story, but complicated.

What I already knew from my study of Rhoda’s work was confirmed by the manuscript: she eschewed modern condescension to readers, continually challenging them. The only other writer I worked with who crafted similarly lengthy, lyrical sentences filled with surprising clauses and illustrative digressions, but nonetheless executed with pitch-perfect aplomb, was Caleb Carr.

In long passages, Axel and his linguist father trace the ancient roots of words like Og and I back to Osiris and Pergamon. Sometimes I’d happen upon an outrageous plot twist and would protest—this came out of nowhere! But how much of this was too much? Rhoda was a commercial and critically acclaimed writer. She might challenge her readers, but she would not want to drive them away. Some of these beautiful words had to go.

Solimeos, the new novel from the female Saul Bellow, was published this spring by Wicked Son Books, which is headed by Adam Bellow. That’s some nice karmic resonance. But there’s more. In her novel Animal Acts, the animal-loving Rhoda explored the consciousness of other species in a story about a woman on a cross-country trip with a gorilla.

Link to the rest at Publishers Weekly

The Beauty of Beta Readers!

From dyiMFA:

You’ve finished your manuscript, congratulations! Now what?

After all these months or years spent on your book, you’re fairly close to the material and it can be hard to objectively assess your own work. So, it’s time for others’ feedback.

TIME FOR FEEDBACK

Feedback will help you make the book the best it can be. Just like you’d want feedback on your schoolwork or at your job, feedback on your writing is an important step.

SHOULD YOU ASK FAMILY?

Your mind might jump to the idea of asking your spouse, best friend, or family members. After all, you have access to these people.

This can sometimes work, however, be mindful that:

  •  They care about their relationship with you and may be hesitant to provide critical comments
  • They may not be your target reader and therefore may comment on aspects that wouldn’t be an issue for readers in your genre

The most objective sources for feedback will come from a combination of editing professionals and beta readers.

This article won’t go into details on hiring editing professionals like developmental and copy-line editors. It also won’t cover how to find and work with sensitivity readers. Just know that all of these roles can be really important to the quality of your work. The key is to find professionals that you work well with.

Rather, this article will address a question that a pre-published author asked me: “How do I find beta readers?”

WHAT ARE BETA READERS?

First, what are beta readers? Beta readers are people who read your manuscript before it goes to the printer for publication. The term comes from information technology, where beta testing is used to find and eliminate problems before launching new computer programs.

Beta readers are different than publishing industry professionals whom you’d hire. They’re “ordinary” readers who can point out places where your story is confusing, where the continuity is awry, where plot points are missing or where there are factual errors. Remember though, that it’s unlikely for any single person to find all of these things, so be grateful for any issues a reader finds but don’t expect one person to find them all.

WHEN TO USE BETA READERS

For me, I find beta readers helpful at several stages. Having one or two trusted readers look at an early manuscript can help iron out big issues like plot holes, unlikable characters or action-reactions that don’t make sense. However, they will have to understand that the manuscript may be messy. You may need to get them in the right mindset to overlook any typos or grammatical issues and ask them to focus on the big picture.

Secondly, I appreciate having beta readers after developmental editing and after copy-line edits. The beauty of great beta readers is getting fresh sets of eyes on the work, since you’ll be very close to the material after having been through multiple rounds of edits.

By the way, it’s also validating to hear when readers enjoy the story. Don’t underestimate the joy of getting positive feedback!

HOW TO BRIEF BETA READERS

One key to helpful feedback is to specify what input you want. Your questions may differ at different stages of the editing process. To get honest input, make clear that your feelings won’t be hurt by critical comments. Critique is what you need to make the work stronger!

Here’s are some sample questions you could ask beta readers. Use these as thought starters and customize for your own need:

  • How early in the story did you feel a connection with a character?
  • Which parts, if any, made you feel bored and want to stop reading?
  • Which parts evoked emotion for you?
  • Did anything confuse you? What needs to be clarified? Please highlight the confusing sections.
  • Any scenes that feel authentic emotionally?
  • Any parts where the person’s actions didn’t make sense?
  • Which character(s) were your favorite? Why?
  • Which character(s) did you not like? Why?
  • Did any scene, dialog, or event seem awkward? Perhaps a character does or says something that does not fit with his/her personality.
  • What emotion(s) were you left with at the end? Were you satisfied with the way the story ended?

You can personalize your questions to hone in on a specific area where you think there may be issues, or where you’d like your readers to focus.

Link to the rest at dyiMFA

How to Survive Editing

From Jane Friedman:

When I opened the just-edited manuscript of my first book, some 12 years ago, I gasped.

My editor had covered it in so many red marks, it looked as though she might have accidentally stabbed herself with an X-Acto knife.

Worse, I was totally unprepared. I’d spent my entire working life as an editor—first at a community weekly newspaper, then at a large metropolitan daily, then a brief stint as a book editor, finally as a freelance writer and editor. I thought I knew how to edit. Even myself.

Perhaps more persuasively, I’d also had a dozen beta readers—many of them professional writers—comb through the manuscript to critique, question, and eviscerate my words. My manuscript was definitely in the best possible shape it could have been.

How was it possible that this editor found so many fresh problems? Did she really know what she was doing?

Turns out, of course, that she did. As soon as I’d calmed down and gone through her comments, one by one, I could see they made sense. And, besides, I knew her to be not just a superb editor, but a wise and well-informed person.

But having a strong, gut-punch reaction to being edited is part of the cost of doing business when writing. You’ve poured your heart into your words. In fact, you’ve anguished over every damn one of them. It’s hard to hear that your manuscript, your child, has an ugly nose.

If you are going to be facing an editor’s red pen, here is my advice on how to survive the process:

If you can choose your own editor, choose carefully.

Approach the job as if you were hiring a contractor for your much-loved house. Find someone who specializes in your genre. Talk to at least three different editors who might suit. Make sure you actually like them, as well as trust their abilities. Get three references from each and don’t think holding the references in your hands is enough—check them all, thoroughly. Ask questions not just about the quality of these editors’ work but also ask about what they were like to work with. If the editor sounds promising, request a test edit (of about 750 to 1,000 words of text), even if you have to pay for it, so you can see what you think of the editor’s work. If you like it, then agree upon cost and a deadline and sign a contract.

Don’t rush your hiring process or make it slapdash. Take your time and do it right.

Be prepared for a lot of red ink.

Somehow, anticipating lots of red ink—rather than the blissfully color-free pages I had expected—will make the inevitable result easier to bear. And if you find red ink offensive (as many people do), ask your editor to use green, blue or purple for their comments instead. And if they resist, which I would consider a terrible sign, hire someone else.

Take it slow.

Give yourself at least a full day to do nothing more than glance at the volume of comments and steel yourself. There is no need for you to respond to edits at the speed of light. Take your time and get your feelings in the right place first. Do some deep breathing.

Remind yourself the editor is there to help you. Understandably, it’s going to feel as though the editor is doing nothing but criticizing you. But in fact, any editor is really in loco lectorem—Latin for “in the position of a reader.” Consider your editor to be your partner, there to help protect your published work from mistakes and misunderstandings. What can be worse than an editor who points out too many mistakes? Easy! A published work with mistakes.

Link to the rest at Jane Friedman

What It Takes to Be a Freelance Editor

From Jane Friedman:

You should be an editor.

Perhaps someone’s said it to you. Perhaps, after volunteering to critique a friend’s book, reading for hours, and writing 2,000 words of feedback (more than you both bargained for), you’ve said to yourself:

I should be an editor.

You love reading, right? And you’re really good with grammar and spelling. Maybe you even have an English degree or an MFA. What else do you need?

Curiosity, education, and ruthlessness.

An editor’s number-one asset is curiosity.

Not just double-checking facts or looking up info for the manuscript they’re working on right now, but a constant, lifelong level of I need to know.

I recently edited an essay that quoted King Lear’s Cordelia. It was a great line—“I cannot heave my heart into my mouth”—but it didn’t mean what the author thought it did. The quote did not support her point. I didn’t have time to reread King Lear and perform textual analysis, as I’d budgeted 30 minutes for this edit. I already knew it, because I’ve seen Lear four times. Fact-checking wasn’t even officially part of this job, but the essay was fundamentally flawed without that existing knowledge.

I’ve always been curious about Shakespeare. And law school. And the oceanic geology of East Asia. And the workflow of commercial kitchens. And dressage. And, and, and. I’ve never met a fact I didn’t want to know. Eventually, most of them come in handy.

. . . .

Editors must be ruthless.

What makes that sentence above true to the narrator’s voice?

Is this the right place in the book to show her desperate to return to the simplicity of childhood, and to tear the reader’s heart that she can’t?

Because no matter how beautiful the writing is, if a sentence doesn’t fit the character or the story, it’s gotta go.

Many early-career authors use their elevated Special Writer Voice, and their editors must challenge them not to make their words “better” or “more polished,” but more truthful to the author’s own voice.

Purely nurturing feedback is unhelpful. Straight criticism is discouraging. An editor must identify what’s wrong, clarify why it must be fixed, and excite the author to do the work. Editors must inflict the pain of “It’s not good enough, yet.” I’ve told more than one author to cut their first 50 pages. That’s painful! What I say about their work must ring so true that they trust me enough to endure that pain, for the sake of a better next draft.

Link to the rest at Jane Friedman