The global edit: writing and editing working in tandem

You've heard the phrase, 'Think global, act local.' It's the same thing in this context. When you read a story, you're always reading locally, because your attention can only ever be focused on the paragraph or even sentence you're digesting at this exact moment. When we ask you to edit globally, it's the exact opposite...

You look at the story (the plot) as a whole. Writing and editing merge at this point. The writer and the editor become the same person. By the time you read this page, you'll have written enough that you feel comfortable writing. And editing is probably something you've done unconsciously. It's nothing new to you. Very few surprises are about to be sprung —

It is, however, time the formalize the process. Nail it down tight, by understanding how and why it works. In the early days, writing and editing is very much about trial and error. You do your best work, show it to people, and listen keenly to how they respond. Now, friends and family will seldom tell you if a piece was poorly written, boring, or full of mistakes! So deliberately ask for feedback, constructive criticism ... and don't take offence when you get what you asked for. Use it. Learn

The first job of editing you're going to do is to look at the story line as a whole, and make sure it makes sense. This sounds almost ridiculously easy, but ... it's not! Some absolutely astonishing disasters have happened because global editing was overlooked or forgotten. For instance, a character's name changes in the middle of the book. It's subtle: MacCready become McCready. No one noticed till after the book was printed. Ouch! Or, Helen started out blonde in the first chapter, but by Chapter Nine she's being describes as having 'lustrous, mahogany tresses.' Ooops. Writing and editing can be a minefield. The writer is usually wafting above the mantraps, free of the constraints of gravity, while the editor shuffles along on hands and knees with a stick, locating and defusing the mines!

Another obvious mistake is to have a character who started out as an Aussie from Victoria, and then name a town in New South Wales as his home, when he tells his story to a new friend, 240 pages later. Here's a beauty: a dog who started the book as a Husky turns into a Malamute by Chapter Six. The two dogs are both Arctic breeds, but very different. In the business of writing and editing, it's the extraordinary author who has a memory good enough to carry every facet of every character and situation. The editor is the one who saves the day.

A subtle mistake is when a character's eyes turn from blue to brown, or brown to green. A whopper of a mistake is to forget that a character was killed in Chapter 2, and have him/her reappear 500 pages later. This is so obvious, it rarely happens; but what happens much more often is that a writer will forget when a character was very badly injured, and allow insufficient time for him/her to heal up, before they're suddenly out there kicking butt again. This error happens when, in a long novel with a lot of action, several hundred pages have been written, depicting a series of intense events. The problem is, all the events (all 400pp of them!) took place over a three-day period. Billy Bob, whose pelvis and both legs were broken just before all hell bust loose, should still be heavily medicated for intense pain, and weeks away from being able to get back on a superbike and hit the road. In writing and editing, 400pp doesn't mean a long time; it just means some heavily documented events.

A global edit has to be meticulous. You either remember or (better) jot down physical descriptions of the characters, plus where they're from, who they're married to, who's widowed, who has kids, how old they are ...! You write thumbnail biographies. You also keep a check on who's hurt, who's dead ... who's a Persian and who's a Siamese. Writing and editing is always meticulous, but nowhere more so than in this process, which is often skipped. As the saying goes, that's how accidents happen.

Bear in mind that writing and editing a full-length book will take months, possibly even years. Over that much time, you can't carry thousands of tiny details in your memory. In any case, why would you want to? Have a notebook, write things down. You'll be amazed how much work this simple tip will save you in years, and projects, to come.

We asked the maestro, Mel Keegan, to nominate the best process, and here's the word:

"I don't have limitless time to devote to writing (I wish I did!) so I tend to be thorough, and not have to backtrack. The first thing I do is think the story line through from beginning to end, and, when I'm pretty much satisfied with it, I write it down. It's odd: when you get the plot line down in note form, the gremlins start to come sneaking out of the woodwork. You'll see problems you never perceived before. They might be problems of timing, or geography, or great bald patches in the plot will show through: swathes of story in which nothing much happens. These parts have a ghastly potential for being boring — that being the single sin of which a writer must never be guilty. Never, ever bore your readers. Do that, and they'll put the book down ... and they won't buy your next one, either. So, get the story firmly in your head. Write it down, and LOOK at it. Imagine, or figure out, how many pages will be needed to get over, or round, this subplot or that plot device. Look for the bald spots. Rework the plot a couple of times; reverse the order of some scenes. Roll two or three characters into one ... or split one character up into two or three. And write biographical files, so you don't trip yourself up on the details, six months and 350pp from now. Lastly, sketch a timeline, and plot the events of the story against it. The scale of the timeline can be anything from minutes to years, depending on what you need. Make sure you leave enough time for Jack to get over the smashed bones in his foot, for Jill to hike out of the wilderness after crashing the glider, for Bob to work out how to fix the motor and get the fishing boat back to port, and for Brenda to take the train from London to Cairo!" Always keep in mind that writing and editing are two sides of the same coin. Two jobs which can't be done alone. They're the flyer and the catcher in the circus act ... and the better the catcher, the higher the flyer can, well, fly.

Give yourself time to learn the skills of writing and editing. Don't demand of yourself that you lean it all in a week. Remember that an apprenticeship as a tradesman takes years to finish, and appreciate that it's just as tricky mastering every aspect of writing as it is to learn every nuance of fixing leaky faucets!

Let's assume, for the moment, you're determined to succeed. You're going to crack the market and get published, build a writing career — or bust. Let's also assume there's a lot you need to know, and you're smart enough to admit it. You're on this page to track down the information, and you hit paydirt. When it comes to writing and editing, you'll find it here.

As we said above, the writing side of the circus balancing act is a multi-faceted artform. Approached 'all of a piece, it can be overwhelming, so we've broken the whole thing up into nibblets of information. Zero in on what you need right now, at this moment. The same holds for the editing aspect of the job. Focus on what you need right now, right here, to get a particular job done. Master one thing at a time, then go on to the next chore. When you work bite by bite, things don't look nearly as overwhelming.

Story writing... where do you start?

Story writing can certainly begin with short pieces, but it's not essential. Many writers feel more confident of writing short stories first. Because they're short, they'll be finished quickly! Also, when you're learning to edit it can be very daunting to see a ream-sized stack of paper and know you have to work through the whole, book-length manuscript. A short piece is less overwhelming.

Much depends on your own courage as you tackle your early projects. Story writing is as demanding as painting, sculpting, playing an instrument. Do you have the love of what you do, can you make the commitment to work the number of hours needed to finish a novel?

If you love writing and are never happier than when you're fiddling with editing and propelling your characters into this or that hair-raising situation, there is a much better question. We shouldn't be asking if you 'can' write a novel. Of course you can. Who's going to stop you? The only thing to impede you will be your own boredom, which is not likely to happen, because you enjoy writing the same way someone else enjoys baseball.

The question is: which form of story writing suits your plot line?

You'll be looking at your notes — the plot outline you wrote, when you were hit by the plot ideas for your new work. You'll read through them, and in your mind you'll go over how much space, how many pages, it should take to do justice to each plot element without over-doing it.

You don't want to over-write. You also don't want to under-write. You're aiming for the 'just right' mark, which is somewhere between the two. Your writer's instinct will tell you when you hit the mark. If it doesn't, or if you're 'off,' a good beta reader will tell you where the book is 'too long' or 'too short.' This instinct is one of the skills you soon develop in the art of story writing. Don't worry, it'll soon come to you.

So, here's the question: do you have enough material to make for a novel of at least 45,000 words? That's a very short novel. In fact, it's probably too short for most non-pulp publishers to consider. They would be looking for something at least 80,000 words, and on up to a maximum of perhaps 160,000 words.

(You won't know what they want until you visit their website in search of information, or write to them with an initial query. You can do this before you begin to write, if you feel that your book is really only suited to one publisher. Caveat: if your book has such a narrow playing field, you might have a problem. If you're writing to earn royalties, narrow-interest subjects don't make for big sales ... and you only get paid when you sell copies.)

If you don't have enough material for a novel, then you're looking at a short story. Writing a novel around too little material involves padding out the themes. Extremely good writers can do this, and get away with it; but critics and editors can almost always see what was done. If the book seems to be padded out, an editor could easily reject it for this.

'Padding' is largely irrelevant material that's pushed in between the 'real' scenes to make the book longer. It can take the form of 'character development,' or a sub-plot, but if the scenes stray too far off-topic, they're likely to be deleted by your pro editor before publication.

Here's the downside: if the editorial cuts make the book too short ... the fact you padded it out to get a novel becomes obvious. You actually had the material for a short story! Writing to please editors should always be in the back of your mind.

If you have the material for a novel — go for it. Understand the time it will take to write so much, and then edit and proofread. Do it for the love of writing. Fall in love with your characters and situations, dive into the realm you've created, and play! Story writing should not be about work. It should be 70% play, 20% natural skill (all of which you can develop on this site), and 10% work. We should be able to survive 10% work.

If you don't have the material for a whole novel, you know right now, you're writing a novella or a short story. Writing in the shorter formats is quite different from writing novels. It's actually a unique discipline. You approach the writing style differently, the characters tend to be created differently, events are described differently, in a short piece. (Story writing has its 'departments,' just as picture painting can involve oils, acrylics, watercolors, pastels, mixed media.)

To get a feel for short story writing, read some. Look at anthologies and fiction magazines, find a writer whose work you like and respect ... and pick his or her brains. Be analytical. Can you see what the writer did, and how? Take the the story apart and put it back together. Where is the beginning, what's the McGuffin? At what point does Jack get up in the tree?

Is it easier to get published with a short story? Possibly ... which doesn't mean it's simple, or a dead cert! Writing for professional magazines is a field which obeys its own ground rules, and you'll need to do your research there, just as you would before you approached a book published. Short fiction is often generic — science fiction, crime, mystery, horror, romance.

There are magazines and ezines devoted to many niches. You'll need to find the best place to send your material, query the publisher to discover exactly what they want in a story. Writing according to the guidelines you receive provides your best shot at getting into print. (It's also very true that some very nice royalty rates are paid for short story writing at the professional level, whereas entry-level authors of full novels can be surprised by the modest nature of the first check.)

Do you have to start with short stories? No. But be sure you have enough material for a novel, and be sure you have the time and patience to write, edit and proofread a whole novel. You might find that you enjoy the short story writing experience so much, you stay with it. Some writers rarely produce novels.

Story writing demands as much of you as learning to dance or play the flute. The trick is to enjoy the process as much as the contracts at the end of the road!