The Five Stages of Being Edited

Last week, I got my line notes for Tell Them You Lied. (YAY!) This is the final round of edits before my book goes to the copy editor in late August, then bound into galleys, then sent out into the world—which means it’s also my last chance to make substantial changes to a manuscript that I have been working on for years.

The notes are mostly small, in-line things—punctuation, line breaks, clarification, some word choices. These are easy fixes, the things you almost don’t need to think about, you just do.

Easy fixes are the counterpart to Big Notes, the thoughts that come in paragraph form in a letter or an email, that have to do with the manuscript as a whole. Big Notes often have a ripple effect—meaning, what you change on page 12 will have an effect on pages 45-62, and 77, and 81-94, and again on 100, 119, etc, etc, etc… rippling on and out until the end of the manuscript. Big Notes are generally about character development, stakes, structure, or theme. They require thought, patience, and (most importantly) diligent tracking.

My editor sent three Big Notes. The first two don’t exactly ripple. They are more like easy fixes that exist in more than one place. For example— Theme: hit it harder here and here. And calibration: My MC missed something that the reader picks up on, let her see this, too, so she doesn’t seem dense.

The final Big Note, though, was about a character. I can’t put details here — no spoilers! — but this change will ripple. I have to make a decision about this character’s relationship to the others in the book. At first, it almost seemed like an easy fix, but as I began to edit, I realized that that how I introduce him in the early chapters will affect how the reveals play out, which affects the whole second act of the book.

It’s not a structural revision— it won’t takes months to manage— but it is one that I will have to think about. And once I decide on a path, I will have to commit to it, and make sure that it makes sense in every scene where this character makes an appearance or is even mentioned.

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Getting this last round of notes on Tell Them You Lied got me thinking about feedback in general. Edit letters can be overwhelming. They can feel like you’ve just been told your very precious and delicate book has fractures that require surgery, and the only person who can operate is you, and the only tool you can use is a sledgehammer.

they promise this won’t hurt

But receiving an edit letter is a process not an event. And like other processes, it can be broken into stages, all of which have their own unique characteristics.

Let’s see if you agree!

Stage One: Anticipation

This period begins as soon as you hit send on your draft. Overall you will experience a feeling of excitement, with occasional pangs of self-doubt and over-confidence. This is the Schrödinger’s Cat stage: it is just as likely that your editor/agent will love every word and tell you you are a genius as it is that s/he will hate it all and cancel the contract. Both options seem equally possible. You will get to work on something new,  because you understand it will be months before you will hear anything, but you will still check your email 1000 times a day. 

Stage Two: Obsession

The excitement from Stage One mutates into panic. Your mind will begin to play tricks on you. Imposter syndrome will rear its mean head. You will have trouble concentrating on everyday conversations. You will forget to pick up your child from a birthday party. You will google your editor to make sure she/he is still alive. Your heart will drop into your underpants everytime your phone buzzes. You will abandon your new manuscript because you are sure that your notes are coming “any day now.” You will never not be checking your email, and you also begin to dread the email, expecting it to comprise not an edit letter, but a message that just says oops, nevermind. Clearly, we made a mistake.

Stage Three: Relief

The notes arrive with little fanfare. It becomes clear that your editor does not despise you, nor does she think you’re perfect. If you are a romance writer, you will release a breath you didn’t know you were holding. If you are a thriller writer, you will realize you had been clenching your fists, digging half moons into your palms. If you write lit fic, you will look out the window and say nothing.

Stage Four: Denial

You can’t help the expressions on your face as you first take in the editor’s mountain of notes. No, you think, that’s not right. They just didn’t understand. They forgot the subtext in Chapter 8 while reading Chapter 16. They don’t remember the line of dialogue that you cut out in the last round of edits. That character is fully formed, thank you very much. You snort. No, you think. Absolutely not. No way. There’s no way. Please god, no. I can’t do this again. 

Stage Five: Acceptance

You will start with the easy changes, the line notes, missing punctuation and continuity issues. In doing so, you will realize that your editor does, in fact, know what they are talking about. You will feel a burst of energy. You will once again feel lucky that you have this person on your side to make your book the best it can be. You only have two months, and you will dive in headlong, and make all the changes suggested, because you know the book will be better for it.