Shredded By An Editor
Originally posted June 17 2024 (edited May 30 2025)
As you know, I’ve been beavering away on my first novel, The Mermaid’s Mark (now The Mermaid’s Wrath) I sent it off to the editor, full of promise, waiting on pins and needles for his response.
Would he love it?
Could I send it out to the world with minimal changes?
For two weeks, I vibrated with hope. Then I got his feedback.
Oh, my poor little heart.
He ripped the story to pieces, and my immediate reaction to his editorial letter was something to the effect of WHATANASSHOLEOHMYGOD. I went to bed angry.
The next morning, I opened my manuscript, peppered with his notes. He was getting more and more frustrated as the story went along. Finally, I started to laugh. In between his stab wounds, I’d find comments like, “Yes! Like this!” and “Love this, great description.”
My heart felt a little less achy.
Hiring an editor is terrifying. I paid him for brutal honesty, and he replied in force. I held my ego’s hand and let her rant for a while, bristling and spitting with indignation, and then I gave her a lollipop and went back to work.
He and I had arranged for a follow-up call one week after receiving his feedback. I decided I didn’t know diddly about structuring a novel, and it seems we humans like that in our stories, as there’s a natural ebb and flow we’re familiar with. I devoured two books on the subject and created an outline for the book, taking my editor’s points into consideration.
The night before our call, I sent him a detailed ten-page outline highlighting my crisis points and the reactive emotions of my characters. I knew I already had a better story. A tighter one. One that would keep people engaged, and as a writer, that’s the whole point.
To my delight, he was speechless, admitting that he didn’t foresee my preparation for our call. We went through the outline piece by piece, and he brainstormed with me for sticky points I couldn’t quite make work.
His parting words were, “I know you’re going to hate this, but it might be better to start again rather than fiddling through your current manuscript.”
Another stab to the heart, this one because I wanted to give my creativity to the world, and a delay felt like failure. But what kind of gift is a half-baked cake? An unfinished painting?
I will hire him to read through the next version because I know he won’t hold back. And as much as it stung, as much as I hated being told that my story needed work, I’m grateful he didn’t simply pat me on the head and say, ‘Well done,’ and let me release something subpar.
My darling ego, ever-present (I’m a Leo), is now saying, WEWILLSHOWHIM. And in doing so, I will give you a book you’ll remember forever.