Fortunately, that has never happened yet, with either a friend or a client. It was a wonderful relief to dive into TB’s (not my friend’s real name or initials) proposal and be delighted and intrigued with what was there already, so much so that spending lots more time with it than planned or promised was no trouble at all.

The really interesting part of the experience for me, though, was getting to these four paragraphs in the middle that suddenly sounded exactly like a real person. The whole thing was well put together and well written — but those paragraphs were riveting. Different somehow than everything that came before or after. Why? These were the parts he had written as placeholder text, as if he were hanging out with me over a glass of wine or cup of coffee, that were never intended for the “actual” proposal. You see where I’m going with this, right? Since he was not on stage (so to speak) at that point, he gave himself permission to sound like himself instead of trying to sound like what he thought a writer was supposed to sound like.

As a result, the best part of the entire proposal was the part he wrote thinking that no one would ever read it. The part he wrote to be deleted, the part he was embarrassed to show even me, was the gem shining out in contrast to everything around it.

The brilliant Brenda Ueland once wrote, “Pour out the dull things on paper, too — you can tear them up afterward — for only then do the bright ones come. If you hold back the dull things, you are certain to hold back what is clear and beautiful and true and lively.”

ShareThis

The email came from writer and friend Elizabeth Clarke. She went on to explain, “I got a puppy…” and it seems the lively little guy is getting in the way of her good intentions to stick to a writing schedule.

Being more of a cat person than a dog person, I am biased about this, but I consider cats better pets for writers because they’ll sit in your lap and purr while you sit at your desk and write. I imagine fish would also be good writer pets. And maybe rabbits–they’re nice and quiet, right?

I have no pets at the moment, but I am plagued by five — yes, I’ve counted them  — squirrels who chatter and squeal and scramble back and forth and back and forth across the rattly tin roof over my porch. They drive me nuts. I have a water pistol and am actually getting good at hitting one every once in awhile.

It’s so distracting, all that racket and all the time I spend trying to chase the little bastards away. Then again, writers are easily distracted. In fact, sometimes anyone watching might even jump to the conclusion that we’re intentionally even looking for ways to avoid writing. Can you believe that?

ShareThis

I was expecting him to talk about formatting or fonts or the like, so I was really surprised when he said that the single biggest mistake new authors make is not hiring an editor(!) “That’s where a lot of money gets wasted,” he observed.

Nick is a conscientious professional, so when he gets a “bad book,” he’ll politely suggest having it professionally edited before he sets it.  But often, new authors will insist on skipping the editing step in an effort to save money.

The trouble is that when the interior is done and the client sees the manuscript all laid out and looking like a real book, the flaws and errors are suddenly obvious. The end result? Not only do they end up having to hire an editor after all, they also end up with the expense of having the designer do the book over.

According to Nick, a professionally edited manuscript is what “separates the one-timers from the people who make writing a vocation.”

Good advice, I’d say. I’ve seen how subtle revisions can make a big difference and prevent those little mistakes that can be so embarrassing. But being an editor and book doctor myself, I am admittedly biased on the subject.

So don’t take my word for it — take Nick’s. And while you’re at it, hire him. He does great work.

ShareThis