Working with Editors and Writers-in-Residence

Like many emerging writers, family and work-related responsibilities consume much of my free time, so when I’m looking for professional feedback on personal writing projects, classroom settings don’t always work for me. I need the flexibility and convenience that a written critique allows.

The first experience I had with an editor underscored the intrinsic value on soliciting feedback from professionals. I found a freelance writer-editor to work for a non-fiction manuscript I was self-publishing. Not only was the price right, but his view of self-publishing was refreshingly positive. The collaborative experience was so rewarding that I decided to look for editors to work with on other writing projects.

In the past several years, I’ve been lucky to work with WCDR writers-in-residence Stuart Ross, Bernice Lever, and Marjorie Ludlow Green, but I’ve also pursued feedback from writers-in-residence through public library and universities, which is where I found Betty Jane Wylie and poet NorbeSe Philip. I found established poets Harold Rhenisch, Anne Simpson, and Colin Morton on-line at the LCP website. And last year, I found Claire Robson through the EAC.

From Claire Robson,  I learned a lot about rapport and synergy. Those attributes aren’t found by typing keywords like “non-fiction + editor” into a website’s Search box, or a Web browser.

Claire proceeded slowly. First, she sent me to her website. If I liked this representation of her work and her approach to editing, we’d continue. I did. Next, she led me through a Q&A to determine the level of my editorial needs. Then we settled on an hourly rate and schedule for remitting work and receiving feedback.

From our initial information sessions, I was able to get a good sense of her professional approach and sensibility toward editing and toward me as an emerging writer. The experience was nothing less than exceptional.

I made all the mistakes novice writers make

In the beginning, though, I did what every emerging writer does. I expected validation rather than honest feedback. Early on, I even hoarded my better work and sent stuff I was not emotionally attached to. Sure, that’s a great way to remain invulnerable to criticism—and while most editors are sensitive to the self-doubt of emerging writers and consequently tend to be moderate with criticism—it must have been difficult trying to find positive things to say about work that was not up to scratch.

On the other hand, as I received gentle and encouraging guidance I submitted better work. Soon it became what it should be—more about the work and less about acceptance of my writer self. I began to focus on the positive comments, to concentrate on what worked, rather than focus on what didn’t. It took time before I stopped sending of what I considered my “best” work—which I had defined as favourite—and started sending my most polished work.

Choosing what to send, I learned, also takes proper evaluation through close scrutiny of the written work. Editors and writers who provide critiques tell me that it can be frustrating to receive what is obviously a first draft, instead of a polished piece. These continuing editor-writer relationships have taught me to look more critically at my work, to distance myself from it and read the work with an objective, editorial eye before I send it.

One of the tricks I use is to make-believe I am being graded on the piece. In aiming for an A+ my lazy writer proofreads with care while the editor in me thinks about the structure and overall flow. It started with non-fiction, but I now use this same trick when submitting poems and fiction work for publication.

Written feedback allows me time and space I need to revisit the work

In receiving feedback, I prefer written responses. Since written evaluations have a longer life span than the verbal variety, I can revisit the piece when I run into stumbling blocks during revisions.

Usually, I read the feedback then put the pages away and get busy doing something else. I think about the critique, make notes, and after a week or more, I retrieve the pages and re-read the analysis. Then I repeat the process. Only then am I ready to make revisions.

From this vantage point, I’ve been able to find a new way of dealing with weaknesses, which tend to fall away, leaving the best work standing. Following this process has made my writing stronger.

These experiences have also been satisfying for a few other reasons: the one-on-one nature of the relationship, the explicit aspects of written feedback, and the forethought required to decide which pieces to send (by analyzing the work, I weed out the weaker pieces).

What’s more, any rewriting I do before submitting it means I submit my best possible work. And submitting my best possible work means I’ll get the best possible feedback.

This article was reprinted by www.markhamvillagewriters.com, March 2010.