That’s a USA Archery certified coach, an archer who was nationally ranked in the top 100 as a collegiate archer, and a high school JOAD state champ (those last two in his category, of course). He’s my first resource when I have a question about archery. He’s also the person who got me so involved in the sport, and immersed me in a sport I respect, adore, and want to see presented properly on the pages of fiction.

So when I saw another editor with a hot take that said something along the lines of, “It’s not proper to use the word fire in association with archery,” I wasn’t real happy. How many tournaments and practice sessions and lessons have I sat through where the coaches (also USAA-certified) had said things like “Hold your fire,” “Do not fire your bow,” and even “Step up to the firing line.” Heck, there’s even a term in archery — DRY FIRE — that is one of the first things you learn when you pick up a bow, because dry firing a bow (that means pulling the string back to full draw, ready to fire, but without an arrow, and yet you let the string go as if an arrow is present) is BAD. Do not dry fire!

Seriously. It’s one of the first lessons with a bow. (Instead, for those of you who are curious, let the string down in a controlled fashion.)

But to be safe, I double-checked with Mr. USAA-Certified pictured above. Yep, my memory’s still good. But, he said to me, “I wonder what the etymology for using the term fire with an arrow is.”

It’s a good question. I wondered that too. This kid often asks me good questions, like “What does Apocalyptica sound like live?” and “Where is the Roxian Theater, and what does it look like inside?” We found out together. It was fun.

So… I did as deep a dive as I could. I even reached out to Lancaster Archery, which is kind of the gold standard of retail, at least here outside of Pittsburgh. The kid satisfied his question about what it’s like there when he went for a National Indoor Championship shoot a couple years back. Like I said, we do our best to learn the things we have questions about.

What I found, since that’s what you’re all dying to know, is that at least from what I found, we won’t know if the term “fire” is something that came before or after the introduction of firearms. The rest of this lengthy post will explain what I found and my thinking.

All this said, if you have legitimate sources of information on this topic, bring it. I’d love to learn.

Okay. Let’s start where the kid suggested I start: with the etymology of the word FIRE:

English fire was applied to “ardent, burning” passions or feelings from mid-14c. Meaning “discharge of firearms, action of guns, etc.” is from 1580s.

That clearly mentions firearms. And a lot of people make the assumption that this is where it begins as an archery term. But I am not convinced of that! Here’s why. That same definition goes to to say:

Symbolic fire and the sword is by c. 1600 (translating Latin flamma ferroque absumi); earlier yron and fyre (1560s), with suerd & flawme (mid-15c.), mid fure & mid here (“with fire and armed force”), c. 1200.

Okay, but that’s a noun, and we’re looking at the verb. What does this page say about that? Well. Hmm. Here we go. The word as a verb traces back to 1200 CE. Here’s more:

1660s. Meaning “to discharge artillery or a firearm” (originally by application of fire) is from 1520s; extended sense of “to throw (as a missile)” is from 1580s. Fire away in the figurative sense of “go ahead” is from 1775.

But note! That’s artillery or a firearm. There’s no note about archery, arrows, bows. Nothing. Why is that? Is that because it was so common that no one wrote it down, or was it so UNcommon that there was nothing to write down? And when DID the first documentation of the use of the word begin to be attached to archery? THAT, I do not know. I’d love to. If you’ve got that information, send it along.

However, the timeframe to associate the word “fire” with firearms works… sort of. After all, firearms date back to the 10th Century (CE), and by 1380 were found across Europe. They’d first been brought to Europe in the 13th Century (CE) by travelers of the Silk Road.

It’s an easy association to make, no? FIREarms. To discharge. Fire your firearm. But it makes ya wonder what people were saying for those two hundred years between the firearm’s arrival in Europe and the documentation of the term.

And still, I’m not convinced that the term wasn’t used for archery prior to the proliferation of firearms. There’s no proof one way or the other, just anecodotes that English longbowmen would say “Loosen” during warfare. Again, I’d love a source for this. I’m really fascinated!

So, while I didn’t write down all my sources for what comes next (and I’m kicking myself for that, too; you’d think I’d know better), here’s some of what I’ve found that makes me wonder if the term “fire” as associated with an arrow predates the use of “fire” with firearms.

Ever heard of Greek Fire? It predates the Chinese development of the firearm by three centuries (7th Century CE). It was used in warfare, and the linked article includes this gem:

many writers of antiquity refer to flaming arrows,

Flaming arrows! YES! Arrows on fire!

There’s a problem with setting most arrows on fire (Greek Fire being an exception) and shooting them, though. Fire needs oxygen to survive, and when something is flying through the air at speed, the flame tends to go out. So while incendiary arrows are sexy as hell, especially as a gesture with a funeral pyre, unless we’re talking Greek Fire, which seems to have solved the problem of being extinguished, incendiary arrows really weren’t a thing. Still, Greek Fire was clearly able to defy that, and Greek Fire incendiary arrows were definitely a thing.

If an arrow on fire was able to fly through the air… Well, I think it’s possible that the term “fire” became associated with archery at that time. Three centuries before the development of the firearm during the Song Dynasty.

Now, here’s another fact to consider. The term “fire arrow” was used in 9th Century China. This Wikipedia page has some really cool facts, including mention of earlier incendiary arrows. Check this line from the site:

Although the fire arrow is most commonly associated with its rocket mechanism, it originally consisted of a pouch of gunpowder attached to an arrow.

So again, we’re back to arrows being linked to an ability to ignite… or to catch on fire. And given the way we twist language today, it’s not a stretch to think that someone along the line started saying “fire” in assocation with arrows coated in Greek Fire, or that it was a shorthand for using a Fire Arrow in place of a regular boring old arrow without pockets of gunpowder. I’m not saying it’s a sure thing, but it’s also not a stretch of believability.

What if it began accidentally? If someone misfired and an incendiary arrow landed nearby, people screamed “fire” and others loosed their bows so that they could get the shot off before the fire became a problme? And what if it stuck?

What if…

What if…

This is one I don’t think we’re going to find out so fast, although I’m still intrigued. Not all questions are so easy to answer, especially when we have to stop and take a look at what’s been lost to history (or altered to fit certain narratives).

But I’m 100% confident when I say that it’s perfectly acceptable to use the term “fire” when discussing shooting an arrow, be it in a work of fiction with a contemporary setting or a historical one.

More from the list of homophones — or, as I like to call ’em, words that sound alike and get confused ALL the time and please stop.

I know. homophones is SO MUCH more concise. Maybe that’s why it’s the more commonly used word.

What’s on the chopping block today? PAST versus PASSED.

I first started noticing this one from my Black clients, or those who use some degree of AAVE. Which of course creates a conundrum: Is it AAVE? I’m no expert — far from it (she says with a snort) — but given that the rest of the book wasn’t in AAVE, then yeah, it was something to call out as incorrect, and to query in dialogue. Because not all characters talk with correct grammar. (I mention that a lot when I edit for you.)

Let’s take a look…

PAST
Things that are over with. Think in terms of “The past, the present, the future.”

Our past lives.
I am past the age of eating nothing but chicken nuggets and mac and cheese. (No, you’re really not.)
I walked past the garden today.

See? It’s all stuff you put behind you.
Webster’s, of course, breaks it down differently and maybe better. Judge for yourself.

Now, PASSED.
This is also something that happened previously. (In the past. How about that? Ha!)

BUT it’s a bit different because it’s the past tense (there I go again) of the word PASS. And oof, if you’re going to go read this definition, do it with a full beverage and maybe some snacks. It’s a LONG one, as many good, variable words produce. This is why English is so great and so much fun and why you need people like me in your corner!

Grandma passed away.
We passed the garden today. (Note how this is different from “We walked past the garden today.” See the subtle differences? Need me to unpack this?)
I passed the fifth grade. Barely.

These are WAY more active sentences. And that’s your quick test for past versus passed. Unless, of course, you struggle with active versus passive. And I can help with that, too.

Oh, the many things a good editor can do for you!

As authors, we walk an interesting, fascinating line: that between emotionally engaged and not. We need to emotionally engage in order to write the heart-wrenching stuff that our readers demand. We also need to be emotionally engaged enough to be able to create an emotionally appropriate, fully-rounded character. Because believe me, if the author doesn’t care about his or her characters, neither will the reader.

But we also need to be detached from the emotional games that go along with emotional involvement. And that’s because we are both the puppet and the puppet master. (No. Wrong Master of Puppets!)

When we’re wearing our author or editor (or beta or crit partner) hats, it’s easier to disengage. It really is. We have the space we need, physically and emotionally. We can put the book or manuscript down and walk away and think.

Our characters usually can’t. And often, they shouldn’t have this distance. Sometimes, your character needs to be playing the bad guy’s emotion game. Your character probably needs to be more emotionally vested than you are, especially if your character is going up against a narcissist, a sociopath, or a psychopath. This is because until the character — the victim, the target — knows what s/he is dealing with, the emotion game is impossible to avoid.

What’s it look like?

Shock. Disbelief. An inability to wrap your head around a consistent set of actions. A refusal to accept the reality you’re faced with — and not necessarily the reality you’re living (that gets into the whole area of gaslighting) but the reality that this is how the bad guy behaves over and over again and isn’t going to change that. The character self-righteously claims they are refusing to normalize abnormal behavior.

Yet their shock and disbelief and anger continue to play the exact role the bad guy is feeding to them. And the bad guy wins.

Let’s take a step back.

Shock, disbelief, anger — these are emotions. Emotions have good points and bad points and advantages and disadvantages. (kind of like everything else in life!)

If you retain nothing else from this post, remember this: When your character is caught up in the cycle of expressing emotion, your character is not able to gain the upper hand on his or her enemy, something that requires emotional distance and clarity to achieve. And so long as your character is emotional, they are off-balance. Off-balance means easier to manipulate.

Bad guy wins.

Yes, it IS that simple.

So, as authors, it’s your job to, to an extent, get caught up in this emotional cycle — insofar as the character needs you to, in order to create an authentic experience for the reader.

BUT as authors, you also need to know how to rise above that emotion, how to break the cycle. There are many ways to do this, of course; what works for one person or character may not work for the next. Method isn’t nearly as important and being able to sever that emotional reaction. Once your character can get past the emotion game, your character comes out the winner.

Sounds simple, right? But look around you in your own life. Take a good, cold, hard look. Notice how many people are caught up in the drama of the emotion game. Because, hey, it’s drama! Friends respond to drama (at least until you tip the scales into the land of the drama queen). They hear you better when you are passionate!

Except… guess what? You are also too emotionally invested, and you can’t think clearly and critically. You are unconsciously holding yourself down in a position of weakness under the narcissist/sociopath/psychopath/asshole who is using your emotions to manipulate you and keep you under his/her thumb.

Yes, you are allowing yourself to be abused.

You.

Are.

Allowing.

Yourself.

To.

Be.

Abused.

In fiction, we expect the abused to be able to rise above, end the emotion game, and triumph in the end. We cheer the main character as they embrace their agency, find their strength, and defeat the agents of evil.

So why aren’t we doing it in real life?

Take a deep breath. And a step back. What do you respond emotionally to? Are you playing someone else’s emotion game in the name of resisting the abuse?

Is your character?

Is that where you want to be? Is that what you want your character to be doing?

Think about it. Think hard.

This was originally posted on the West of Mars Facebook page, but I thought I’d put it here too so more of you can see it, given what Facebook does to business pages.

Romance writers! (And those who want to know what the fuss is about)

Check out Beverly Jenkins’ new book, To Catch a Raven. SO MUCH RIGHT is going on here.

One thing in particular that I want to point out is how she handles what amounts to the billionaire trope and gift-giving. I know there’s a popular sentiment that Christian Gray/Pretty Woman is the way billionaires give gifts.

I push back on it every time.

Know why?

Because it’s actually abuse. It’s a gift for the man, so that his woman fits more perfectly into his world and spares him from looking bad — which is the fear of all narcissists. The people around him should only reflect glory onto him.

Instead, check out how the more affluent Braxton showers the less affluent Raven with gifts. Note that they’re truly gifts for HER. Like bath salts. For a bath that she takes without him around; he purposely gives her space. He’s all about her me time.

And then take a look at how Ms. Bev handles the gift of a fancy dress. We see it all the time in billionaire romance.

But here, Raven has no clothing. Long story why, but she’s left her wardrobe behind. And now she’s in Boston and needs something stylish. Brax had bought a bolt of silk previously, saying only that as a tailor, he couldn’t resist.

As he offers up the silk, as he slips undergarments and gloves and other accoutrements that she needs into the purchase, it’s clear he’s doing it for her. Because he recognizes she is a woman who deserves to move among his peers comfortably — and because it is her comfort and her feelings and her emotions that matter. Not his. SHE matters, not his society circle. SHE matters, not whether or not she conforms properly. His intent is HER, not himself.

And that, my friends, is the difference. Too many billionaire trope gifts are about him, and that’s how and where they cross lines.

But when the gifts are true gifts, given for the enjoyment and pleasure of the recipient, then we’ve got romantic magic.

Yes, I work on romance novels! However, I do not have room for a new client until mid-October, at the earliest. If you need me, let’s talk!

So… here’s an interesting one for you.

It’s from my own fiction, so I’m not bothering to change the line to protect the innocent. Let’s just let ‘er rip. (Also, if you want to know more about my own fiction, sign up for the newsletter, eh? Be sure to check the box for the author newsletter. And then stay tuned, because as soon as we have the new website and the book cover and the legal stuff worked out, we’re letting this project loose and I promise you’ve never seen a project like this one.)

Here’s the sentence:

It didn’t help that he still looked good, in a green collared shirt and tan dress pants—very expensive dress pants, she noted.

Pretty innocuous statement, no?

Here’s where it gets interesting: My proofreader, the amazing and wonderful April Hughes (so don’t you dare be thinking I’m picking on her or suggesting she’s not up to par because she totally is. I mean, hello? I PAY HER), suggested I cut the comma after good.

Except… this is where the comma changes the entire meaning.

Because without the comma, the sentence means that he looked good because of the clothes he’s wearing. His looking good is dependent on his clothes.

WITH the comma, the man just looks good, period, and the comma signals that we’re getting a description of his clothing.

Teeny tiny little bits of nuance… that even the best editors can’t catch for you.

WHAT? WHAT DID YOU JUST SAY, SUSAN????

Yep. This is one of those sentences, because of the twin meanings, that only the author can choose which message to send to the reader. They’re both grammatically correct. They both paint a vivid picture of the dude. The question is whether or not the dude needs his clothing to enhance his looks… and that’s something no editor can answer for you. All we can do is call it out and suggest the author take a closer look and consider the different messages the sentence is sending, with and without that comma.

For a little piece of punctuation, it’s sure got a lot of power.

Right, Grandma?*

Ahem.

If you’re one of those people who thinks you don’t need an editor, well, I can’t help you. But if you’re not, April and I would both love to work with you, and this isn’t the only project we’ve worked on together! I heartily recommend using one editor for different stages of editing, but most especially using a fresh set of eyes for that final look before you hit publish or submit to your agent/acquiring editor. Yes, it’s more expensive, but you’re worth it.

I promise.

*As in: Let’s eat, Grandma/Let’s eat Grandma

While we were talking last week about Effect and Cause, I forgot to mention something I’d actually written down so I’d remember!

So here’s the sentence. I changed it from the original, of course. I’m not here to make fun of my clients! However, they do inspire me. Daily.

A flush crept over her cheeks after she leaned back and met his gaze.

See how that’s problematic? We get the result before we’re told what’s happening. And while his gaze can be a delicious thing to end a sentence on, I think in this case that the important detail here isn’t him, but her.

So I’d rewrite it as:
A flush crept over her cheeks, but she leaned back and met his gaze anyway.

Aha. Now there’s some meat in there. She’s embarrassed by something, but not so much that she’s ready to run and hide from him. If anything, she’s owning it. She’s a brave one, our unnamed heroine.

And here’s what I wrote to the author. Yes, this part is verbatim because it’s my words and I liked them so much I wanted to share them with all of you. (Yes, as in why confine my brilliance to just one person?)

Here, you can have the effect happen as part of the whole moment. Doing it this way is super; it makes each moment bigger, fuller. It’s a broader brush stroke instead of making the reader’s brain stop and take in each individual movement.

Or, like I said above, it’s putting some meat on the same set of actions, giving us something that helps bring these people (well, at least her) alive. And that’s what you want: Characters to feel alive. You want the reader to be able to learn more than a simple set of actions; you want to give us some characterization as well.

Holler, as always, if you need help.

I’ve been seeing this crop up lately, so let’s talk about how your narrative sequences things: cause and effect, or effect and cause?

Need an example? Here’s one: He turned when he felt…

Now, that seems like it’d work, right? It heightens the drama… He turned! Why did he turn? Well, keep reading and we’ll tell you it’s because he felt (whatever it was that he felt).

But do you see what’s happening here? You have effect and cause, not cause and effect.

Or, in other terms: The character reacts to something before the reader knows what s/he/they are reacting TO. It’s not only a reaction. It can be any motion out there. She walked up the front steps after closing the car door.

As an author working on your first draft, it’s one thing to do this. The first draft, after all, is for figuring out where the story’s going, what’s happening on the page, how the characters are moving (and why)… it’s for learning. This is why I always encourage authors to not be afraid to puke on the page. Get it out, get it down, go back and craft it later.

It’s that later that often becomes a problem. Because it’s one more thing you have to look for, be alert for, know if you have a tendency to do this or not. (Most of us do.)

Go on. Take a look at your work-in-progress. Do you have cause and effect, or do you have effect and cause? And can you think of a time when effect and cause is the better option? I actually can! Don’t rest on your laurels, though. Check your WIP. I bet you’ve got some.

Remember, if you’d like to work with Editor Susan over here, I’m now booked up until November. I’m only taking rush jobs from existing clients; I’m holding up too many careers as it is! And don’t set a bloody presale date until AFTER you’ve gotten your manuscript through the editing stage, just in case your editor is backed up and/or you wind up with unanticipated rewrites.

Counting? Like the Count on Sesame Street?

YES.

Here’s the deal, because you know there is one, and you know it’s sticking in my craw and making me cranky.

Increasingly often, I’m running into writer’s groups full of authors who get busy counting the number of times they use a word in a manuscript. And then… they obsess over that number, like they are afraid they are over the magic threshold and if they can’t get under it, their book is going to suck.

“I have used THAT sixty-five times in 60,000 words! Is that too many?”

I alternately want to slap and/or shake these people and wrap my arm around them and say, “Honey. Relax.”

Because you know what? There is no magic number.

Like so much else in the craft of writing, the counting of specific words doesn’t matter (and is potentially a waste of time, even if you run that cute little feature in Word that tells you how many times you’ve used a word and really, how much time does it take and what’s the big whoop, Sooz? The big whoop is the mental space you’re diverting from the actual job at hand). What matters is nuance. How it sounds. How it works on the page. What it brings to the story, how it operates, how it enriches.

See how those are all positive things? Not a negative among them.

That’s because the instant the negative shows up, you’ve overused it. That can be the second time you’ve used it, or it can be the thirty-fifth, or it can be the seventy-second. Or it can be the two hundred and ninth.

It’s about how you use a word. Period. There’s no magic to that; it’s craft. It’s hard work. It’s reading your prose out loud to yourself, or using a text-to-voice program or whatever you need to do in order to let your ear hear what your eye may not see. It’s listening. It’s taking the time to write, rewrite, resculpt, reimagine how to say something if need be.

Stop counting. Start listening.

As always, feel free to drop me a line if you’re struggling. I’m booked up for a few months right now, so you’ll have to wait. But who cares? I’m worth the wait.

Today’s rant is brought to you by the letter P. P is for Pizza, after all. Right?

Well, to judge by how often characters go out for pizza, yes. P is indeed for Pizza.

Now, maybe this isn’t so strange. According to sources, Americans eat six thousand pieces of pizza in their lifetimes. And CiCi’s pizza learned that “A third of consumers eat pizza at least once a week and one in 10 grab up to three slices as many as three times a week. A die-hard 16 percent eat 15 slices each month.”

Our lives are, indeed, one giant pizza party!

If this one food is so darn prevalent in our lives, why do I grow weary of seeing book after book, manuscript after manuscript (So clients, yes, this is you too!) eating very little other than pizza?

It’s our default food. I get it.

But I also worry about the cholesterol levels of your characters. And if they ever eat anything else.

How about it? Think we can have characters who eat subs, or calzones, or wings, or salads instead, when they want to pick something up that’s fast? How about sushi? Chinese? Mexican? What’s wrong with grabbing tacos on the run? Pittsburgh’s filling up with great taco shops, and we are generally behind the trends when it comes to food.

Pizza’s great. Don’t get me wrong.

But just like you vary your word choices, your sentence structure, your character names, and more, you might want to vary what they are eating, too. Because right now? I kinda never want to look at another pizza again.

Remember, if you need my keen cuisine sense operating from an editorial standpoint, I’m booked solid until October 2021. But after that? I’m possibly here if you need me. Inquire gently.

I may not leave the house much, but I do chat with colleagues and other editors. Today’s lesson comes from one of those discussions.

She had joking posted something like “All my characters ride bicycles. Is that my branding?”

And… a lot of authors said yes. That was her branding.

Which of course meant I had to chime in. “That’s an authorial signature, not branding.”

In the course of a private discussion, we wondered how many authors really know the difference between authorial signature and branding. Because the two are very very different.

In the most basic terms, branding is what you do so the reader thinks about you. You say to me “Lorelei James” and I think “Hot, steamy cowboys.” You say to me “CJ Lyons” and I think “Medical thrillers set in an alternate Pittsburgh.”

That’s branding. It’s associating the writer with the broad, overall picture of what they do. I have a client whose brand is clean, wholesome romance. One whose brand is dark paranormal. Branding is how to help a reader find a writer’s books.

Then… what’s an authorial signature?

That’s WAY more fun, especially because it generally takes a few books for the signature to come out. Most often, it does so without the author even realizing it. Like I said above, it’s “all my characters ride bicycles.” Or maybe “I write love triangles. All my heroes turn out to be cinnamon rolls. All my characters wear red underwear. I only write stories set in small towns, never cities.”

See the difference? Branding is about you. Authorial signature is about your characters. It’s the habits that sneak onto the page, consistent across your books. Maybe not all of them, but enough that those of us who know to look can see and find them.

Now. Go forth and work on your branding. Readers need to be able to find you.

Don’t worry about your signatures. They are what they are, and for people like me, they’re a lot of fun. Stay authentic to yourself and don’t try to change them.

Remember, I’m here if you need me. I’m also glad to feature your books via the Featured New Book Spotlight. And while we’re here, check out the new newsletters! Fun changes are on the horizon. Come be part of them!

My telling you to just wait is NOT me telling you to skip writing for a day. Perish THAT thought; I subscribe to literary agent Barbara Poelle’s* mantra to “Read 2k a day; write 2k a day” — except if you don’t actually hit 2k words written or read, I’m okay with that. The idea is that you do what you can, but do it daily.

So what are we supposed to be waiting for?

It’s something that’s burned many an author. (And yes, now I am playing with you, mostly so I can say “Just wait” again and make the SEO gods happy) But it’s also something that’ll only bite you once, I’ve found.

It’s setting your release date too early, and the subsequent presale date.

What’s too early? Before your book has gone through editing, I’d say. Before it’s gone through beta reads. You know… before it’s landed in the hands of the people who may have you do a time-consuming change or six (hundred). Or who’ll encourage you to rewrite from the ground up. Yes, I know clients that’s happened to, even if it wasn’t me issuing that particular instruction.

Invariably, the same thing happens, over and over. The author — that’s the you in this scenario — winds up rushing, pushing, ignoring things that otherwise wouldn’t be overlooked. The book suffers. Readers aren’t happy with you. They make other buying choices going forward.

I know! I do know that you want to get that presale up, that you find it motivating, that you need it to give you the kick in the pants, the confidence to keep moving. You can’t take it back, so you’re committed. I get it. I DO.

But I also get that the goal here shouldn’t be to merely get a book on the shelf. Nope. The goal here should be to get the BEST book you can produce on the shelf. The best. Not the fastest.

That means pushing yourself as a writer, not in terms of getting the book done, but in terms of craft. Can you write better? Improve this? That? The other?

And don’t forget about self-care. Yes, reading/writing 2k a day is a good goal, but let’s face it: some days, you need to take a day off. Unplug. Wander in the woods. Be present for your family. Throw a ball for the dog. Cut some catnip and laugh at how your cats behave. Doing any of those things — or whatever you need — isn’t hurting your writing goals in the least, I promise. It’s refueling you. Sometimes, you need that break. Take it.

Just wait.

Don’t schedule that release date yet. Don’t set up the presale yet.

Just wait.

Focus on making the best book possible.

As always, I’m here if you need help with that. And while I’m a little bit backed up as I type this, that situation changes by the day. However, don’t delay if you want to open a dialogue. My queue can fill up pretty darn fast.

*I always credit literary agent Barbara Poelle with that because she’s the first person I heard say it — at least that I remember — at a Pennwriters conference many years ago. And yes, mentioning Pennwriters here IS an endorsement, so come join us.

Up to you? What is up, and why do I leave it to you?

It’s a not-uncommon phrase I use in my comments when editing, and I wanted to talk a bit about it, as it can probably come off as passive-aggressive without an explanation.

Here we go. Ready? Buckled in? Braced? Hands inside the roller coaster?

Nah, it’s not that bad.

I make changes in your manuscript. That’s what you’ve hired me to do. They’re fixes, really, for grammar or readability (and, as an aside, if you ever want to know why, ASK ME! The best editing happens when we can trust each other, but also when I can help you grow as a writer.), and most of them aren’t negotiable.

So when something is, I like to let you know.

But I won’t just point it out. Please. Zero context can be an awful thing. Instead, I’ll explain. You can just word it this way because [insert phrase] is implied by [this action]. The reason it’s up to you is that maybe it fits your authorial voice. Maybe it helps the rhythm of the sentence. Maybe you simply are more comfortable with the bit of extra words. Whatever the reason, it’s yours and you get to choose. In these instances, I’m truly letting you make your choice. It is, after all, your book, your baby, your creation. I’m here to make it better, not to override you. Well, unless your grammar sucks, your commas aren’t quite the work of art they need to be, or something doesn’t read right.

Up to you.

Don’t cringe when you see that. It’s a good thing. It means you are ready to stop and really think about the words on the page. It means you’re upping your craft.

Reaching that stage is, also, up to you.

As always, remember that if you need my editorial skills, I’m here. Reach on out.

Seriously? An editor is here to talk about breakfast? What on earth FOR? This is a blog run by an editor, at least for the time being. (More on that later… when I have details)

Well, yes. We’re here to talk about breakfast.

Maybe it’s because I edit a lot of fantasy, which I love and so bring it, but bring your other genres as well. And one hallmark of fantasy is the journey trope: characters on a journey. Sometimes there’s an object they have to find, sometimes it’s one they have to deliver, sometimes it’s a journey of a different type. It doesn’t really matter; what matters is that you have people moving about, and they lack the creature comforts of home.

That last part is vital. They lack the creature comforts of home. That means they don’t have a kitchen — or the full kitchen they’re accustomed to — nearby.

Sometimes, they carry their own food. At which point, they don’t want the extra weight that food brings with it. (As an aside, ever notice how no one’s ever worried that carrying food will attract animals like bears? And yet, here on our planet, if you camp in grizzly territory, the experts tell you to make sure nothing goes into your tent, not even a water bottle.)

And sometimes, our characters don’t carry food and have to hunt and forage for it.

It doesn’t matter how the food gets to our characters. What matters is how commonly breakfast, the first meal of the day, the one some company decided was the most important meal of the day* winds up, in fiction, as being described as being “meager.”

Okay, sure. Let’s stop and consider. Your characters are on the move. They may not want/be able to light a fire first thing in the morning, or to stir the ashes from the fire the night before back to life. Carting food around adds weight, can possibly attract predators although that never really seems to happen in fiction, is hard to keep fresh if it’s something perishable… Not having a hearty breakfast of pancakes and eggs and sausage is the norm, and a bowl of Wheaties is even harder in most of these societies because first, breakfast cereal seems to universally be oatmeal, not Frosted Flakes and second, well, milk needs to be kept cold (and, for the majority of us, pasteurized, although have you tried raw milk? Wow, is that good stuff).

But does eating something like jerky and scavenged berries need to be meager? Do your characters ever eat leftovers from the night before? Why, or why not? Why don’t characters ever check traps, catch a fish, or the like first thing in the morning?

Oh, I know. I get it. I’m the same way, especially when travelling: Get me up, feed me, get me moving. The day is young, it’s promising, it’s full of potential. Who wants to waste the day catching fish or skinning an early-to-rise rabbit? Besides, our heroes have adventuring to do! Let’s not slow things down with the mechanics of an early morning hunt — a philosophy I happen to agree with.

Still. Breakfasts don’t always have to be meager, do they?

Just something to think about.

And remember, I’m here for your editorial needs. And I’m also glad to help spread the word about your book, your friend’s book, your acquaintance’s book via the Featured New Book Spotlight.

A hearty breakfast is always recommended.

*That link takes you to one of many citing the same history. However, I’m not discounting the science that people who eat big breakfasts consume fewer calories overall throughout the day, especially as the science isn’t yet conclusive about this.

Some things in life are worth the wait. I’d argue that most things are, although over the past few weeks, I’ve learned that it doesn’t necessarily include hospicing your cat. But that’s another story for another time.

No, today’s “it’s worth the wait” should hit closer to home for you, if you’re a writer. Or if you’ve got writer friends who run into this problem:

Really good editors are booked in advance weeks, months, or sometimes beyond one year.

Yes, some authors will wait a year or more in order for their favorite/preferred editor to have space for them!

Luckily for you, I don’t make my clients wait that long. Oh, sure, sometimes you’ll have to wait a few weeks — right now, the wait is about a month and a half, given what’s in my queue at this moment as I write this — and sure, sometimes, I’ll be able to say to you, “Hey, I can start on this next”. But it’s even rarer that I can say, “Yep, I have an opening right now. Come on in.” The last time I had time off was… well, I had two weeks, at two different times, in 2020. 2021 has seen me steadily working six or seven days a week.

Good editors are worth the wait.

And I know. I get it. The drafting process took longer than you’d anticipated. Revisions were a struggle. Your developmental or first editor was running late. You had to make massive changes that threw you off.

For whatever reason, you’re now behind your original, intended schedule. You need someone NOW.

But I’m telling you… the good editors? We’ve all got manuscripts lined up. The reason for this is obvious, isn’t it? We’re good. We’re worth the wait. Authors of all sorts are smart enough to realize this.

Which is all to say, authors, if you’re perpetually running late, if you perpetually need someone NOW, you are missing out on working with the best of us. Try reaching out earlier and asking if we can shuffle our queues for you — I often can and will. I’m here to help, after all. That willingness, though, is tempered: My loyalties lie with my recurring clients, not with you, even if you’re willing to pay a rush fee. Rush fees are fine and good. Steady work and relationships with my clients are better. Plus, the longer I work with you and get to know your voice, the better I am at what I do.

I’m worth the wait.

Don’t get frustrated when you’re someone new who’s not allowed to skip the entire queue. Once again, if you missed the memo: Good editors are worth the wait.

If you need me, as always, the contact form is up top, or use this link to get to it. I really do want to help.

Like every other editor — every other human being, probably — I have opinions. Fortunately, I have a blog and a way to express those opinions, especially when they’re food for thought about the craft of writing, and might therefore help someone work toward mastering the craft.

Today’s rant is all about a phrase that’s ubiquitous. Ready?

They thought to themself.

I mean, hello? Unless you’re telepathic, you can’t think to anyone BUT yourself.

There are a lot of phrases that, as an editor, I’ll immediately change or delete. That’s because it’s not that awful a phrase. I mean, I don’t see it and cringe, like I do other phrases (they nodded their head, for instance. Or the famous shrugging of the shoulders). But I do smile.

Because, seriously. Who else would the character be directing their thoughts toward? Like… I can’t even.

Now, this is different from the also ubiquitous They smiled to themself.

Know why? Because even though your mouth is on the outside of your body (and I knew that without taking an anatomy class!), and therefore on display to the public, sometimes, those smiles are for your (or your character’s) sensibilities only. Not every single one, unless your character’s got a hell of an internal social life, but… yeah. It happens. Characters smile to themselves. People smile to themselves.

I think that one’s pretty normal.

But if there are too many, the words get highlighted and my index finger meets the delete button and yes, yes I do smile evilly.

That doesn’t negate the fact that They thought to themself is redundant and a waste of two words. While there’s more room to use words carelessly in a novel, why do it at all? Save those words for when you need them!

As a reminder, I’m here to work as your editor if you need me. Or if your friend needs me. But please, don’t send that person you don’t like. That’s really not very nice.

I see this one come and go. It’s a popular one.

Yep, the headline says it all. Everyone drives a Jeep.

Oh, I get it. They’re iconic. They have that look. They have that feel, that lifestyle. People leave rubber duckies on them for each other! It’s a community! Let’s meet in Moab, Utah for JeepFest!

(They also don’t have great repair records, and at the least the ones I looked at aren’t great for tall people. Headroom, folks. It’s something to consider, both for yourself and your family AND your characters.)

Believe it or not, this isn’t always the good thing you want it to be. While a Jeep conveys a certain something about a character, make sure that you’re not using it as a way to define your character instead of doing the hard work yourself. The sort of car one drives should be a complement to your character, not their definition. Let it be one tool in your arsenal of showing the reader who your characters are.

Also, make sure your character fits the social shortcut you’re creating — either by leaning into the stereotype or by consciously bucking it. This isn’t much of a problem with Jeep-driving characters, but I’ve seen it be a problem with other vehicles. A billionaire CEO shouldn’t be driving the constantly breaking down, twenty-year-old bucket of bolts they are too sentimental to get rid of. Park it in the garage, drain the gas, preserve that baby. You have the means, Billionaire CEO type. Use them. Be as smart as we know you are.

But that goes for all of us: Be as smart as we know you are. Don’t let a car define your character, but DO be aware of what a car says about your character.

And yes, everyone loves Jeeps.

Remember, I’m open to new editing clients. Or if you just want to have a conversation about cars and how they help define character, I’m open to that, too!

What is it about us women? We talk about sisterhood and kindness and helping lift each other up, but…

Okay, so here’s the story. I’m in the middle of trying to read through the TBR Mountains that have been in my bedroom for the past ten years or so. And I’ll tell you, a lot of these books haven’t held up well over the years. Society has changed a lot. I’ve wound up DNFing six books in a row.

One of them was a chick lit style book, about two women who absolutely loathe the other women around them. There’s no kindness in them, I don’t think. I don’t know because I gave up around page 30.

But it’s that lack of kindness in women characters that got me. I’ve noticed it before, both in books that I’ve read and books I’ve been hired to work on. And I call it out then, too.

Kindness in women characters… but that’s maybe not the best way to describe it. Oh, in this particular book’s case, it is, as the women characters bitched and moaned about hating where they lived and the women around them and the lack of fashion and it wasn’t London and on and on and on. Sheesh. Give it a break. Who wants to spend 300 pages with people who are so freaking unhappy?

But in the other books, the ones I’ve read and the ones I’ve worked on, all too often, the only character showing kindness in women characters is the main character. The other women, the support cast, are… well, not nice. They’re not always people you want to be around.

Another really good example of this is Netflix’s Virgin River — but the second season. Those women were so awful to each other that I’d look at my daughter and say, “This is getting really awful to watch” and at first she asked me why. When I pointed out that the women weren’t nice to each other, she thought about it and said, “Yeah, you’re right.”

We’re not sure if we’re going to come back for Season Three, because of it. Because every time these women appeared on the screen, we’d cringe.

How is that fun?

I ask my clients to think about their characters carefully. Are you cutting down other women in order to make the main character look better? Can there be kindness in women who aren’t the main character? What does it serve to make the women surrounding the main character — and sometimes, these women are the main character’s tribe — bitchy or nasty to each other, or to the main character? Is this the sort of portrayal of women that you want people to associate with you?

Just some food for thought as you look at your own main character. Are you showing kindness in women characters? Do you think maybe your manuscript would be better if you did?

If you’re stuck or need help, reach out. The joy of doing what I do is that I’m here to help.

Kindness in women… Right? I’m trying to practice what I preach. Join me?

Here’s a good one for you. At least, it’s a story that ends with me grinning in pride at my clients. It’s a story of lessons learned.

There’s a tendency among writers to basically disembody a character’s parts from the whole. He reached with his hand. Or Her eyes ran across the faces of the people in front of her.

It’s a problem on many fronts. And it’s one I always ask my clients to be aware of. The body works as a whole, after all. And eyes don’t run or slip or do many things other than see. (Note the many other here, as I know a couple of those legit other things personally.)

While working on a manuscript a few weeks ago, my client left me a note. I know this disembodies his hand, but I didn’t know any other way to word it. Help?

I… jumped for joy. I did! THIS is what makes the editor-client relationship so amazing. When I can say, “Lessons learned.” When I know my clients listen to my words of (hopeful) wisdom and realize they’re there to help improve your craft. Because really? That’s the best part for me.

Oh, don’t get me wrong. It’s gratifying when clients come back with manuscript after manuscript. Bring it. I love long-term clients maybe a little more than I love one-book wonders. I love the chance to get to know an author’s writing (and, often, the writer themselves, but that’s up to the writer), and the chance to go deeper in my work with it.

Lessons learned with this one.

Don’t disembody your characters. But most of all?

Ask for help when you need it. This is what I’m here for, after all. To be your helper, your ally, the one you can show your uncertainty to. I’m here to help you work through it, grow, improve, excel.

Lessons learned?

Hope so!

So I wrote a brutal, scathing review of a book I attempted to read a few weeks ago.

Doesn’t matter what book.

And yes, I am one of those awful, horrible authors/industry professionals who leaves scathing reviews. That’s another topic for another time.

Today, though, I want to talk about the way it struck me that if this book review were actually an edit, how different my approach to it would be. Oh, I’d still have hated the draft handed to me, assuming this published book was the final draft — and assuming that earlier versions were even more problematic.

But there’s a difference when you’re working with an author and when you’re reading and reviewing a book once it’s been published. A big, huge difference, in fact.

The reason is that when I’m editing, it’s a time to identify all these problems, and to work with the author to fix them. Hey, this wording has a really sexual connotation to it. Did you realize you’d done that? Hey, let’s take a look at the main character a little bit. She’s got a ton of self-loathing, and look how it’s operating. Are you seeing how she undermines herself here? How about there?

And one of my favorites, which I do use fairly often: Believe it or not, the story is stronger when you start on page 36. Look at all the backstory in the first 35 pages! What’s the conflict in that opening? How does this hook the reader when they get all this information about a character they haven’t made an emotional connection to? Keep your eyes open because as I see spots for all this backstory to come out, I’ll point them out. It’s good that you know so much about your characters; you should always know more than shows up on the page…

It’s so much more pleasant to catch these issues in the editorial stage.

Stop for a second and think about it. The editorial stage is where you get to pause and make things better. To catch these errors that really don’t belong in a published book.

But in a review? Well, that’s where people like me get frustrated. Because we can see the potential for the book, if only the author had been able to work with someone else who saw that same potential. Who had the experience and time to put into catching and fixing these problems.

So bear in mind that if you are thinking of working with me as your editor and you come across one of my reviews, I’m not like that in the editorial process. Ugh. Absolutely not. Because the challenge in the editing stage is to find the problems and help you fix them.

When the book’s published and out of our hands?

It’s too late then. And all we can do is rant in frustration at the lost potential for this poor book. And that lost potential, my friends, is a travesty.

Give yourself the gift of time, if you are able. Find the best editors you can, people who can bring out the best in your work of fiction. No one wants to read a bad book. No one should have to.

So last week, I brought up the idea of using the wrong details in the wrong places. I probably owe you a better example, but when you’re yanking something out of context–let alone writing it from scratch!–it’s hard to do.

So much of editing and revising depends on context. On narrative voice, on the narrative character… There are so, so many things to consider.

Let me add one more to the pile, and I consider this one to be one of the few golden rules of fiction: The author should always know more about their characters than what appears on the page.

Why?

Because the deeper the well of your knowledge, the more authentic your characters appear on the page. You don’t need to tell us Justin is afraid of spiders. There may never be a spider in your entire manuscript. (Really. Spiders? Don’t appear all that often in fiction. Charlotte was a total unicorn, I’m tellin’ ya.) Justin’s fear may never be discussed, brought up, hinted at. But you, author, you know this simple detail: Justin’s got this fear.

And that, right there, makes him more complex. He’s not invincible. He’s not perfect. He screams worse than I did the day I saw a Daddy Long Legs on my front porch and climbed up my sister. (True story!)

Knowing this means that when you write about Justin, you yourself don’t think he’s invincible. You know he’s got a chink in the armor.

That knowledge means Justin can surprise you. He can show you another one.

Or maybe it means that the characters around him know, even though it’s, again, not voiced on the page. But they know their hero here? Will go running into the sunset, abandoning them to their fate if a spider appears. And that’ll change the way they interact with him–not necessarily in a negative way. Maybe in a better way. Maybe, instead of thinking he’s the be-all, end-all hero to solve the story’s problems, the supporting cast has more agency. They help protect Justin while he protects them.

This gives your characters depth, which in turn allows them to feel more real on the page. I can always tell when an author hasn’t done this work, when they don’t know much, or enough, about their characters.

Make the commitment. Do the off-the-page work. Heck, buy yourself a pretty pen*, fill it with pretty ink, grab some paper, and brainstorm. Create your character’s personal details. Maybe be like me and use different pens and different colors so your ideas don’t run into each other, and each one instead stands out, visible and ready to be referenced.

Whatever your choose. Do the work. It’ll pay off in the end, I promise.

And, as always, remember: If you need my editorial help, I’m here! When my comments are more directly pointed at your own words, you’ll get it. I promise.

*I, myself, now own a TWSBI Eco and can vouch for what a nice pen it is!