How to Train Your Editor Brain
One of the hardest skills for a writer to master is editing her own writing. Assessing your own work objectively when you are so deeply familiar with it can feel like trying to do your own brain surgery.
But like many skills it can be learned, and with practice you can gain proficiency at switching between “writer brain” and “editor brain.” Editor brain doesn’t belong in the room when you’re writing — he lurks over your shoulder, telling you everything you’re writing is crap and stifling your creative freedom. Banish that judgy little bastard from your creative space or time.
But once you’re finished with a first draft and it’s time to assess and revise, welcome him in; make him coffee. Give him a doughnut. Send “writer brain” out of the room while editor brain does his job — it’s not writer brain’s time anymore. This is when you need all the distance and objectivity you can summon, but given the difficulty of seeing your own work analytically, how can you learn to see what’s actually on the page rather than what’s in your head?
The most effective ways I know to learn to objectively edit your own work — to switch on “editor brain” — are to see others’ work edited and to edit it yourself.
We automatically come to another writer’s work with the mental (and emotional) distance it can be so hard to achieve with our own writing. Because it isn’t your story you aren’t “filling in the blanks” as you go — presuming things a reader doesn’t actually see on the page because you know your story so well. With someone else’s you’re seeing — and evaluating — only what’s there, a crucial skill to develop in editing your own writing, spotting the things we’re often initially blind to in our own work. Once you’ve seen Waldo you can’t unsee him.
As with learning any skill, the trick is to practice — as much as possible — editing others’ work so that editing your own becomes second nature. Having a critique partner is a great start, but there are many other ways to get even more experience with editing.
1. Find a crit group
Participating in a critique group with other writers offers a regular opportunity to learn to analyze and assess effective writing (with a number of caveats, primarily that you find one that’s supportive, positive, and constructive, among lots of other baseline requirements; a bad crit group can do more damage to writers than almost anything else. Here’s a great article on red flags for unhelpful crit groups).
While you’ll get the chance to receive feedback on your own work — which is good — and gain direct experience critiquing others’ work, the hidden value of this kind of group many writers overlook is the ample opportunities to listen to other authors’ critiques. Pay at least as much attention to these — multiple critiques of the same submission are an invaluable way to see not only what objectively works and doesn’t work in a piece of writing, but to notice the subjective differences as well — one reader’s Romeo and Juliet is another’s Fifty Shades of Gray. Learning to edit your own writing is also about knowing when to stick with your vision even if it doesn’t work for every beta reader, and those variations of opinion are a great way to see that firsthand.
3. Attend writers conferences — and be a voyeur
Watching an experienced industry professional — an editor, an agent, an accomplished author — go over in detail what’s not working in a story excerpt as well as it should, as well as what is working (equally important!) — is a fantastic way to learn to see what they see. (You can see an example of one of mine here.) Sit in on as many R&Cs (read-and-critiques) as you can — and focus as intently on other writers’ submissions as you do your own.
R&Cs are fantastic training for editor brain — and help you learn to separate the two when you aren’t “on guard” as a writer being evaluated. The more you can learn to divide these two parts of yourself — yes, like a low-grade mental illness, but one you control — the better you will get at editing your own work…and the better writer you’ll be.
Pay attention to what jumps out at these industry pros as they evaluate out loud. Often these R&Cs focus on the “macroedit” areas — the foundations of good storytelling. Notice, for instance, that the first thing many will point out is whether anything is actually happening, and if it is, whether they are invested enough in your characters to care. Notice how frequently they may point out that the story needs more suspense or momentum or higher stakes (or beautifully creates them). Those are the basic building blocks for effective writing, and you’ll be surprised how readily you spot where these elements are and aren’t working as you listen to other people’s work read aloud.
2. Seek out examples of editing
Writing classes and workshops geared toward editing are a great way to see other authors’ writing analyzed and revised — and you often get the chance to weigh in yourself and practice editing other authors’ work.
But if time or financial commitments don’t allow for that, you can find great examples of hands-on, granular editorial feedback in action online. Editor Margie Lawson offers specific prose examples, before and after editing, in her blog posts, along with detailed analyses. WU’s own Dave King, in his “All the King’s Editors/Editor’s Clinic” columns, presents a page or more of a WIP with his editorial markup, and then specifies the reasoning behind all his suggestions; and in the “Flog a Pro” feature, editor Ray Rhamey presents the first page of a bestselling novel and analyzes why he would or wouldn’t turn the page, inviting reader feedback as well (make sure you read the comments!).
These types of editorial critique can be invaluable for learning to spot weaknesses in macroedit areas (major story elements), but also in “microedit” areas — those important supporting players of craft that set your work apart, like show versus tell, point of view, tension, voice, etc.
Often they also parse the prose itself — not for whether it’s “pretty,” though that can be part of it, but whether it says what the author means it to say in a way that is effective and efficient. You’ll learn to spot how flabby or inexact or redundant language can yank a reader right out of the fictive dream, and how to take that same kind of microscope to your own prose.
4. Binge-watch and binge-read, with my permission
This is an editorial training technique you can do every day, from the comfort of your sofa or mattress, to learn to analyze what you watch and read. Are you staying up late to keep turning pages of a book? Put it down (no, really) and grab the notebook that you do keep by your bed, don’t you? (You should! Genius strikes at night.) Jot down — quickly, without thinking too hard about it — why you didn’t want to stop reading (or did).
Be specific and granular: What was keeping you hooked? Probably something you needed to know — will she escape? How is he going to solve this? What will happen next? Who is stalking him? That’s suspense and tension, among the most useful tools in a writer’s toolbox, and analyzing with your editor brain how other authors create it successfully is a powerfully visceral way to learn to do it in your own stories. And why did you care? Probably because you’re invested in those characters. How did the writer create that in you? Write down exactly why this character — and her fate — matters to you.
Same with your favorite shows — binge-watching something? Take five minutes in between episodes and do the same thing — why are you compelled to start the next one? What — very specifically — is driving you forward? Something make you cry? Pause the movie or put the book down and write down what it was, and then analyze critically how the writer got you there, step by step. Same with when your heart is racing, or when you’re on the edge of your seat with tension, or when you’re bored or indifferent, or when you’re angry (I watched the movie Vice with my heart literally at 96 bpm the whole last hour, I was so enraged).
Extra credit: Go back and rewatch or reread with an objective, assessing eye, ruthlessly analyzing how the author/screenwriter elicits reaction and engages you. That’s editing gold — figuring out with your analytical left-brain editor self what techniques to use when your right-brain writer self comes back into the room.
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Experts always tell you writing doesn’t just happen at your desk, but all the time, when you’re showering or exercising or — annoyingly — sleeping. Editing is the same. If you learn to watch and read everything with an analytical eye, I promise you’ll see your writing improve even more than the best book or workshop or webinar could ever offer. There’s no substitute for training yourself “on the job” to see and think like an editor. (Just remember to leave that guy out of the room when you’re writing — and apologize in advance to your loved ones for becoming intolerable to watch TV with.)
Developmental editor Tiffany Yates Martin is privileged to help authors tell their stories as effectively, compellingly, and truthfully as possible. In more than 25 years in the publishing industry she’s worked both with major publishing houses and directly with authors (through her company FoxPrint Editorial), on titles by New York Times, USA Today, and Wall Street Journal bestsellers and award winners as well as newer authors. She presents editing and writing workshops for writers’ groups, organizations, and conferences and writes for numerous writers’ sites and publications. Check out her free 13-page guide here on finding, vetting, and working with the right editor for your story.
