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5 November 2013

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Proofreading Explained

There exists a common misconception that if your manuscript isn’t in great condition, it needs a structural edit; if it is in reasonable condition, it needs a copy-edit; and if it’s in pretty good condition, a proofread is all that is required. Well, I have some bad news. The truth is rather different, and it goes something like this: every manuscript needs all three, because each of the three contributes something distinct and valuable to the project. OK, Ian McEwan or John Banville will get away with skipping the structural edit, but there are very few manuscripts that wouldn’t benefit from one.

Copy-editing and proofreading, on the other hand, are both essential if you want your book to reach the minimum industry standard. I think that bears repeating – the minimum! In previous posts we’ve looked at structural editing and copy-editing; now we’re going to take a closer look at proofreading and its place in the publishing process.

The clue is in the name, really: the original function of the proofreader was to read the typeset manuscript (proof) and check it against the copy-edited one. They made sure that the copy-editor had marked up the manuscript correctly and that the typesetter had interpreted those marks as intended. Essentially, they were the quality controllers, ensuring that the editor and the typesetter had done what they were supposed to and correcting any errors that remained.

Today, this quality-control function continues to be central to the role but the manuscript is generally read ‘blind’ (i.e. without reference to the copy-edit). Checking the typeset manuscript independently speeds up the process and also, in my opinion, takes greater advantage of the proofreader’s skills: less time checking one script against another means more time spent finding errors and inconsistencies.

In addition to correcting any typesetting errors and any errors that have slipped through at copy-edit stage, proofreaders are responsible for making sure that the layout and design, pagination, cross-referencing, images and captions, front and back matter (acknowledgements, imprint page, contents page, bibliography, index, etc.), headings and basically everything that goes into making a book are present, consistent and correct. That’s quite a long list, and it’s not even an exhaustive one. It’s also a list that clearly distinguishes the proofreader from the copy-editor, who is more concerned with the correctness and effectiveness of the author’s writing. Much of what the proofreader is responsible for checking didn’t even exist at the copy-editing stage, and it’s not uncommon for the copy-editor to never even see the typeset manuscript before publication.

You can see where I’m going with this: these are different jobs, so don’t expect your proofreader to copy-edit your book. Proofreading is not a lesser function, it’s a different one, carried out at the end of the publishing process.

Your manuscript should already be both complete and very clean by the time it reaches the proofreader (i.e. it should be edited). There are several reasons for this. First, it is expensive to make changes to a typeset manuscript (typesetters don’t work for free), so the proofreader is generally instructed to stick to correcting errors and to make only the changes that are absolutely necessary. This means that it is not the time to rename characters, to introduce a new plot element or to rewrite the introduction. All that should have been put to bed before the copy-editing stage.

Also, any substantial changes or rewriting need to be carefully checked, not just to make sure that they are correct but also to establish that they fit within the context of the paragraph, the chapter and the book. I have worked with authors who have made last-minute changes that introduced a glaring contradiction because they forgot to make a corresponding change in a later chapter. Essentially, such changes create the need for a new copy-edit, but because nobody is prepared to pay for that, things get missed.

The greater the number of errors that remain in your manuscript the more likely it is that some won’t be corrected. If you didn’t have your work copy-edited, and the proofreader is faced with, for example, page after page of incorrectly punctuated dialogue, that is likely to become their focus – to the detriment of other issues.

So it’s important to think of proofreading as a final check, not as an opportunity to make your manuscript better – that’s the purpose of editing. By hiring a proofreader you are accepting that you have moved beyond this point and are ready to publish. And it’s important that you proofread your own manuscript too. Although you are likely to have a degree of copy-blindness by the time it gets to this stage, you should never publish without having parsed the final version yourself. To that end (and to show that this slightly ranty post has a practical purpose!), here’s a list of things you should look out for:

Spelling

  • Be particularly aware of homonyms. ‘Your’ and ‘you’re’; ‘compliment’ and ‘complement’; ‘their’, ‘there’, and ‘they’re’, etc. These slip through easily.

Punctuation

  • Check that full stops, commas, colons, semicolons, etc., are used correctly.
  • Quotation marks and apostrophes are sometimes reversed. Check them carefully.
  • Check for double spaces, particularly after full stops.

Typesetting

  • Check that the font is consistent throughout the text.
  • Check that the leading (space between lines) and kerning (space between characters) are consistent. Because the text is justified, the tracking (space between words) will vary, but it should be neither too loose nor too tight.
  • Ensure the paragraph after a section break is not indented.
  • Paragraph indents ought to be consistent throughout.
  • Mark any orphans and widows (a single line at the bottom of a page or part of a line at the top of a page).
  • Running heads need to be consistent and have the proper information, e.g., book title, chapter title or author name. It’s easy to make a mistake with these, so check them thoroughly.
  • Chapter openers should also be consistent. Does each chapter start in the same place on the page and contain the same elements in the same order?
  • Check that subhead spacing and alignment are uniform. Also, check that chapter numbers are in sequence and word ‘Chapter’ is used (or not) consistently.
  • Check that page numbers are present and in sequence. Odd-numbered pages should be on the right. Check that numbering is consecutive.
  • Blank pages should have nothing on them – including no folios or running heads.
  • Check page references. If you refer to something as being in Chapter 3 or on page 98, is that still correct in the final version?
  • Check that all necessary information on the imprint page is present and correct, including ISBNs.
  • Check that the page numbers on the Table of Contents correspond to the chapter openings. Check the vertical alignment of the page numbers.

Cover

  • Check that the title, subtitle and author name are correct on the cover and the spine. Check the direction of the text on the spine.
  • Check that there are no typos or inconsistencies in the blurb.
  • Check that the ISBN is correct.

Authors have come to expect an awful lot from proofreaders, and proofreaders sometimes go far and beyond their remit. The rise of self-publishing has broadened the scope of the function, pushing the proofreader into areas traditionally occupied by the editor. I’m not sure this is a good thing. It’s worth remembering that proofreading developed as a specific editorial function for a reason, and that it should be carried out as an individual task because it’s an essential part of the publishing process that consolidates the work of the author and the editor.

This article was originally published on Catherine, Caffeinated, a fantastic resource for anyone thinking of self-publishing.

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5 November 2013

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Copy-editors: What They Really Do

People often think that if you can write you can edit – and vice versa. But writing and editing are very different skills, and competency in one doesn’t guarantee ability in the other. The creative impulse that often drives the author should be largely absent in the copy-editor, who is tasked with problem-solving and who essentially approaches the text as a puzzle. Happily, the editor’s eye for detail complements the author’s creativity, and when they are combined successfully you end up with something great.

Many self-publishers decide not to hire a copy-editor because of the cost involved and because they don’t fully understand what a copy-edit can do for their work. The thinking generally goes, I’m not paying someone to correct a few typos and to get rid of the passive voice. The truth is that you’re paying for a great deal more than that, and we’ll examine the specifics of where your money goes in a moment. First and foremost, what you get out of a copy-edit is a degree of confidence that your book is technically sound, that it does what you intended it to do, and that it comes up to the basic standards expected of published work.

In broad terms, the copy-editor must ensure that the author’s words are true to the intended message. One of the reasons it is so difficult to copy-edit your own work is that the message is already clear in your head. You know your intention before you review what you’ve written, and that makes it easy to make assumptions and difficult to affect the detachment necessary to edit. The reader, on the other hand, relies solely on your words, so they need to be the right words, organised in the correct manner, if you are to communicate your message effectively. Enter the copy-editor!

A copy-editor brings a fresh perspective to your work. They will see the words, the sentences and the paragraphs for what they are and will tally them with what you want them to mean. Of course they will correct typos and remove the passive voice in places. But they also understand that the passive voice isn’t always bad, that split infinitives are usually fine and that the odd cliché never hurt anyone. The intention is never to make your writing generic but to allow it to shine by selectively applying rules and consistently applying style.

So, let’s look in more detail at what your friendly copy-editor can do for you.

Consistency

This is the Holy Grail for copy-editors, and rightly so. In English you are often presented with two or more correct options, and you must choose one and stick to it religiously. For example, if you use ‘okay’ in Chapter 1, you shouldn’t use ‘OK’ in Chapter 6; ‘seventies’ shouldn’t suddenly become ‘70s’, and you can’t jump back and forth between ‘dramatise’ and ‘dramatize’. Copy-editors create a style sheet specific to your book, detailing the decisions that they make on spelling, punctuation, capitalisation, presentation of dates and numbers, etc. That style sheet can then be passed on to the typesetter and proofreader to ensure consistency and make everyone’s life easier. Yay!

Repetition

Repetition comes in many different forms, most of them evil! Political rhetoric can stand a little repetition, but if you’re reading this I’m guessing your aim is not to write political speeches. Sometimes an author will deliberately repeat something to emphasise a point, not realising that most often the effect is to undermine rather than to underline. Most repetition, however, is unintentional. It can occur pages or chapters apart or it can even be contained within the same phrase (‘each individual person’, ‘various different’). If you use ‘wonderful’ five times in five paragraphs it sounds lazy and unprofessional; if you use the same words to describe a room twice in two chapters it sounds lazy and patronising. A copy-editor should also pick up on hidden repetition, such as explaining the content of dialogue when the message is already clearly conveyed in your characters’ words.

Overuse

We all have words and phrases that we fall back on and use too frequently. Chief offenders are the meaningless little tags we add to sentences without even thinking, e.g., ‘basically’, ‘to be honest’, ‘let me begin by saying’, ‘at this point in time’. Buzzwords and jargon are also often overused. The effect can be to smother the meaning of your message and to leave your reader wondering if you know what point you’re trying to make.

Clarity

We don’t always write exactly what we mean, and we don’t always mean what we write. Sometimes this can be as simple as a misplaced comma (‘Let’s eat Grandma’ is an entirely different proposition from ‘Let’s eat, Grandma’) or an adverb gone slightly astray (‘The road needs to be resurfaced badly’ is not the same as ‘The road badly needs to be resurfaced’).

Grammar and usage

There’s no short cut to good grammar: you just have to learn it, remember it and then apply it to your writing. But not always! There is an element of judgement involved here. Making a valiant stand against misguided prescriptivism, Winston Churchill (apparently) said, ‘This is the sort of arrant pedantry up with which I shall not put!’ And he was right: sometimes your message is best served by a bent or broken rule. But be careful! You have to know the rules before you can break them with any confidence, and a copy-editor will be sensitive to just how far you should push it.

Spelling

Obviously your copy-editor will look for typos, but I’m also going to shoehorn homophones (words that are pronounced the same but spelled differently) into this category. ‘Complement’ and ‘compliment’; ‘there’, ‘their’ and ‘they’re’; ‘principal’ and ‘principle’; and ‘bare’ and ‘bear’ are all embarrassingly easy to overlook. A good copy-editor will seek out and destroy these. They will also make sure that foreign words are italicised and accented correctly and that hyphenation is correct and consistent.

Punctuation

Apart from the never-ending comma debate, you would think that most punctuation is fairly straightforward. But time and time again it turns up as a huge issue, especially when it comes to dialogue. I can honestly say I’ve never come across a manuscript with dialogue that has been punctuated consistently. I’ll give this topic a blog post all of its own very soon because it’s not optional, and it’s not OK to get it wrong, even if you get it wrong consistently. Copy-editors know these rules inside out. They also know that you shouldn’t use more than a single exclamation mark at a time and that even one should be used sparingly. F. Scott Fitzgerald said they are the equivalent of laughing at your own joke, and I tend to agree. If you’re in the habit of pairing exclamation marks with question marks you will be politely but firmly told to quit.

Factual accuracy

Copy-editors are not researchers, but they will check dates, names, places, periods and the like so that fact and fiction tally. They will point out that your Victorian heroine couldn’t have taken antibiotics and that your hero was not in Zimbabwe in 1978 because the country was called Rhodesia at the time. If the Edwardian house your character lives in was built 200 years ago, it cannot in fact be an Edwardian house.

Libel

Most copy-editors have a basic understanding of libel law. They can’t guarantee that you won’t be sued, but they will flag anything that should be run past a lawyer. This is important not only for non-fiction authors, but also for writers of fiction, who often mention real people and events as well. If any of your characters are identifiable as real people, you need to be sure you’re not saying anything that will result in a costly court appearance.

Line-editing

Your copy-editor will rephrase ungrammatical or awkward sentences as a matter of course, but you will have to discuss with them exactly how much beyond this you want them to intervene. Some authors want minimal intervention so that their style is preserved, whereas others are happy to have a copy-editor make changes when it adds to the clarity, flow or readability of the text. The level of editing is always up to you as the author, but it’s worth remembering that Word’s Track Changes function allows you to reject a change with a single click, so an editor’s input is never anything more than a suggestion.

Copy-editing is more than correcting typos, and it’s also more than the sum of what I have detailed above. It will leave your prose clearer, more engaging and more readable, and to my mind it isn’t optional for any published work. Just to prove that I practise what I preach, I’ll share with you the fact that this very blog post was copy-edited by Liz Hudson of the www.littleredpen.com, because I know better than to think my writing can’t be improved!

This article was originally published on Catherine, Caffeinated, a fantastic resource for anyone thinking of self-publishing.

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29 September 2013

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Five Tips for Painless* Self-Editing

I know most writers aren’t terribly keen on editing and revising. If you’re driven by the creative impulse, editing can be laborious and painful and boring. When your word count is going down instead of up, it feels like you’re moving backwards and it seems that the finish line is slipping out of view. But revision is essential to good writing, and it doesn’t have to be all that bad. Here’s a few tips that might come in handy when you decide it’s time to polish your book and get it ready for submission.

  1. Leave it alone. Put your manuscript in a drawer for a few weeks and forget about it. When you come back to it you’ll see it with fresh eyes and you’ll be in a much better position to read it critically. You know when you come home after being on holidays for two weeks and just for a moment you can smell your own house? That’s kind of what happens. I’m not saying your house smells bad, just that for a brief period you get to smell what a guest would. Only time away gives you this fresh perspective.
  2. Then cut ruthlessly. Strip it out. Every word, every sentence, every paragraph and every scene should contribute something to your story or thesis. If the scene doesn’t move the plot forward, or if it tells us nothing new about your characters, it has no business in your manuscript. Dump it and move on. You’re likely to find that your cuts result in a tighter, more readable and more enjoyable book. You can spike anything you think you might use in another chapter or that you feel you might be able to recycle into a blog post, a short story or an article. You don’t have to waste anything good, but don’t think that just because it’s good, it’s necessary. Question the value and relevance of everything.
  3. Join a writing group. Creative writing groups provide a great forum in which to have your work critiqued by people who are as passionate about writing as you are. Some opinions may be more informed than others, and you may have to sift through some personal prejudices before you get to the useful pointers, but there are bound to be people whose opinions you value. Keep an open mind and always thank people for their feedback, even if it’s unjustified criticism. If you’re seen to react badly, people with a real talent for spotting problems might choose to keep their comments to themselves. Critiquing sites and internet author forums can also be a great source of feedback and support, especially if you’re the sort of writer who doesn’t like to leave the house. HarperCollins set up Authonomy.com as a novel way of finding new talent, but it’s also a great place to connect with other writers. YouWriteOn.com offers a similar service.
  4. Read books on writing. There are hundreds of books out there on writing. There are books on plot, dialogue, point of view, editing, and every other aspect of crafting a good book. The information is there for you to apply to your own manuscript if you’re prepared to spend fifty quid and a couple of weeks studying the texts. It might not be the same as having a fresh pair of eyes tackle your MS, but if you put a bit of distance between you and your work, you should be able to put your new skills to effective use.
  5. Read the competition. It’s great to be original, but unless you’re Joyce or Kafka it’s best not to be too different. Your competition represents a good guide to what’s expected of you. You should aim to produce something better, extra or novel that adds to the canon, but don’t stray too far from the beaten track or your book won’t fit on any shelf. Read books published in your category in as critical a manner as possible. It helps if you’ve read a few books on writing first – you’ll find that issues to which you were previously oblivious are suddenly thrown into sharp relief. Try to deconstruct the books and analyse how plot, characterisation, pace, etc., are handled, chapter by chapter. Many authors in your category will have faced similar dilemmas as you, and it helps to analyse their results.

It’s true that none of this entirely replaces a professional edit (which is good, because if it did I’d be out of a job), but you can bring your manuscript a long way by investing just a few quid and some time. And if you do end up working with an editor, you will be handing over to them a better, tighter manuscript, and the book you eventually see on the shelf will be all the better for it. Happy days!

*This bit is a lie.

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25 September 2013

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What a Development Edit Can Do for Your Book

Development editing (sometimes called structural editing or substantive editing) is the most complex and time-consuming stage of the editorial process. It can also be the most expensive, and that’s why many publishers are now reluctant to take on books that need structural work. Agents, too, are increasingly less inclined to work with an author on developing their manuscript. As this reluctance to invest in new talent becomes the industry norm, authors are being left to do the work themselves or to hire editors to help them do it.

So let’s look at what development editing actually is. It’s essentially about looking at the big picture, evaluating the manuscript as a whole and analysing how well its constituent parts contribute to the central message or narrative. Whereas the copy-editor takes a micro view, drilling into the detail, the structural editor goes macro and asks, ‘Does this work as a book?’

In fiction, the main areas that a structural editor will address are:

  • Plot: Does the plot make sense? Is it believable? Is it satisfying or does it leave the reader frustrated?
  • Themes: Are the themes effectively handled? Are there so many that the book lacks focus? Do they interfere with the plot or complement it?
  • Characterisation: Are your characters well developed and believable? Are they cast in a role that fits their personality? Do they sometimes behave out of character?
  • Point of view: Are you using too many or too few POVs? Do you head-hop? Would the story be better told in the first person than in the third?
  • Voice: Is the voice consistent or is it sometimes confused? Is it authentic? Is it original?
  • Pace: Does the plot move forward at an appropriate pace? Should you cut that preface? Should the action happen sooner or should the tension build more slowly?
  • Dialogue: Do your characters sound real when they speak? Is your dialogue cluttered with adverbs and beats? Do you use clunky dialogue to move the plot forward?
  • Flow: Is the narrative interrupted by dead-ends and tangents? Is there so much back story that the main plot is dwarfed? Are there missing plot points that would give the narrative greater integrity?

In non-fiction, the principle is the same, but the specific issues are slightly different:

  • Thesis: Is your thesis relevant? Is it clearly defined or is it lost among marginal issues?
  • Exposition: Are your arguments clear and cogent? Are they well researched and properly supported? Do they have a clear relationship with your thesis?
  • Content: Are all the necessary topics sufficiently dealt with? Are the chapters weighted correctly? Is there superfluous content?
  • Organisation: Is the information organised logically? Are tables and illustrations used appropriately? How many levels of subheads do you need and how should they be arranged?
  • Tone: Is the tone appropriate for the audience? Do you need to eliminate jargon? Is the text accessible?
  • Pace: Are there passages that are bogged down in detail? Do you spend too long on detail irrelevant to the main thesis? Are there areas that need further exposition lest they be skipped over?

Although a development editor will likely do some copy-editing as they work through your manuscript, that is not their primary function. Sure, if you overuse a particular sentence structure or if you spell a character’s name in three different ways, they will flag it. But the development editor’s focus is much broader than the mechanics of language, and they will return your manuscript marked up with constructive comments and suggested rewrites that will likely render the corrections pointless in any case. A copy-edit should come later, when the global issues have been addressed and you’re confident that the rewriting is finished.

While development edits aren’t cheap they are a great investment, not just in your book but also in your career. For first-time authors in particular, there’s an element of coaching involved in this kind of editing that will leave you with more skills and greater knowledge, which you can then apply to your future projects. Once you know you shouldn’t use more than one point of view in a scene (unless you’re Virginia Wolf, in which case you’ll probably get away with it!), you won’t do it again. And you’ll learn about structures, techniques and devices you can use to deliver your message more effectively and stylishly.

Most successful authors have worked with a development editor and they know there is value in involving a professional whose opinion is based on knowledge and experience. For example, I won’t simply tell you that your novel is too long and leave it at that; I’ll tell you why it’s too long and I’ll suggest cuts to improve its pace and to tighten the narrative. I will always give a reason for my recommendations, so you can make an informed decision on whether you want to act on them or not. And that’s an important point: you’ll be presented with solutions to problems, but it’s up to you whether or not you implement them. The manuscript is yours, and ultimately you make all the decisions.

Finally, remember that the development editor isn’t trying to catch you out by unearthing a hole in the plot. He’s not questioning your talent by examining the value of your favourite character, and neither is he doubting your skill by suggesting the action should occur earlier in the story. He just wants to make your book the best it can be, probably almost as much as you do.

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22 September 2013

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Six Tips for Better Dialogue

Dialogue is probably the single most effective way of bringing your characters and your narrative to life. It involves your reader in a way that descriptive passages, however well written, simply cannot. There’s something about being in on the action, rather than being told about it, that makes everything more believable and engaging.

The most important point to remember when writing dialogue is that it should be good enough to stand on its own merits – that means without the aid of adverbs, beats, and attributions. You’ll always need a little bit of support here and there, but keep it to a minimum and remember that the important stuff should be in the dialogue.

If you’re explaining, you’re losing. You shouldn’t have to explain your dialogue by adding the likes of John shouted angrily, Sarah said in disbelief, Paula commented sulkily, etc. If the meaning is effectively conveyed in what your characters say, these attributions not only become superfluous but also serve to undermine the dialogue and disengage the reader. Remove the explanation and see if the meaning is still clear. If it isn’t, it’s time to rewrite. By letting the dialogue speak for itself, by describing it less, you make it more realistic and you show your readers that you trust them with your story.

Attributions should be heard and not seen. There is no need to get creative with your attributions: stick to John said (not said John, which sounds a bit Enid Blyton these days). Unless you absolutely need a John screamed or a Sarah uttered or a Paula retorted (which you pretty much never do) just say it and let the reader do the rest; fancy synonyms for ‘said’ are usually unnecessary and distracting. And remember, especially, that people do not smile, snort or smirk dialogue. In fact, it is often best to do away with attributions altogether, once you have established who is speaking.

Make it sound natural, but not too natural. We often digress when we speak, but if you do this in written dialogue you’ll quickly lose your readers. Essentially, you have to take out the boring bits. Your characters need to stay on topic but sound as though they are conversing naturally. Don’t put in the irrelevant and don’t put in ums, ems, and ers. But do use contractions like don’t, won’t, and could’ve. It’s fine to have interruptions (use ‘–’ with a space before but none after) and to have a character trail off (use ‘ . . . ’) but don’t overuse either as they can be as irritating on the page as they are in real life. Think carefully about your characters’ style of speaking. It’s usually best to avoid trying to convey accent by altering spelling. It quickly becomes tiresome to read an author’s attempt to rewrite the dictionary to fit a cockney or an Irish accent, so use colloquialisms and speech patterns instead. And feel free to break the rules of grammar if your character shows a blatant disregard for what’s correct. If he wants to say, ‘I seen that movie last week. It were rubbish,’ let him.

Miss a few beats. Beats are little bits of physical action inserted into dialogue: John put the book down and looked out the window, Sarah turned and walked to the door. Used sparingly, they serve to punctuate the dialogue, to give the scene movement, and to maintain a strong mental picture in the absence of description. They are often best placed where there is a natural break in the dialogue, as they allow the reader to experience the same pause as the characters. Beats are a very effective tool and are essential to good dialogue, but don’t overdo it. If your characters are fluttering their eyelashes, gazing into the distance or opening their laptops between every second line of conversation, the scene becomes about the action and not the dialogue, and the impact is diluted or lost entirely.

Don’t say too much. Dialogue is a great tool for characterisation, and, of course, it can develop the plot, but be careful not to force a character into saying something incongruous just because you need to move the narrative forward. The taciturn farmer who suddenly feels like waxing lyrical to a stranger about his love of the land is implausible, as is the serial killer who reveals his modus operandi to a family member over breakfast. Readers spot artificial conversation and feel cheated by it. What you want your character to say is one thing; what they would actually say might be another. Always make sure it is your character speaking and not you as a storyteller forcing them to reveal a bit of plot they have no business revealing through dialogue. Be faithful to them and they will serve you well!

Read, read, read. Read your dialogue aloud, preferably to someone who will tell you if it sounds odd or unnatural. It’s amazing how you suddenly find that there are words or phrases that you stumble over or that seem out of character when you have to actually speak them. And read books, lots and lots of books – but that’s my solution to everything!