In the publishing world, there’s a lot going on behind-the-scenes even when it may not look like it. In fact, the bulk of a publisher’s (or agent’s or writer’s) efforts aren’t publicly broadcasted. When an announcement is made or a book is released, it comes on the heels of weeks, or even months, of behind-the-scenes teamwork. Because we like full transparency and providing an inside look into how we do what we do, I wanted to touch on delays; why they happen, and why they aren’t always a bad thing. So in a fashion similar to Editorial Dir. Kisa Whipkey’s What Not to Do When Querying article, here’s:

“Hey, what’s taking so long?”
The Delays in Publishing.

For organizational means, I’m going to break down “publishing” into the main phases an author and publisher go through. Please note this is specific to REUTS and how we move through these individual phases. Though other pubs may have similar processes, there isn’t a “one size fits all” method to publishing.

Submitting

Number one delay: Slush.

Now, don’t assume that’s bad. Slush is just a term to describe all the submissions we receive. Some are good, and some are not so good. Kind of like snow—you’ve got the pristine, fresh snow, and then the mucky, brown snow. Mix them together, and you have slush. Not bad, just how it goes. Every publisher or agency has slush, and everyone has their own method of trudging through it.

Delay’s happen here from an overwhelming number of submissions. If you have 100 submissions looming in the slush pile, and each includes a query/synopsis and the first ten pages of the manuscript, there’s quite a lot of reading involved at the very start of the process. And, in order to make the most informed decision on whether or not to request the full manuscript, we read them all. This causes a delay at REUTS because of the unique method we’ve adopted to handle submissions. Instead of submitting to one Acquisitions Editor who then decides yay or nay (and if yay, has to convince the rest of the team to feel the same way), we have a panel consisting of the four REUTS directors. Each of our directors reads through each submission, provides their thoughts, and submits a decision. It then comes down to a majority vote. Only after a majority vote has been decided can we respond to an author regarding their submission. And at REUTS we provide a unique response email to all of our submitting authors, regardless if it’s good news or bad news.

Only then can we move a manuscript out of the “submitting” phase, and into the “reviewing” phase.

Remember, requesting an update only delays us further, since the time it takes to look up your manuscript, track down the email with any discussion, and respond back takes precious time away from actually reading your submission. Here are REUTS we always respond to a submission made. No exceptions. So if you haven’t heard from us, that’s actually better than if you had and received a rejection.

Reviewing

Number one delay: Reading.

If a submission makes it to the “reviewing” phase that means we’ve requested a full manuscript for further . . . review. Makes sense! This is, without a doubt, the longest part on your journey toward receiving that beloved contract offer. In requesting manuscripts with a minimum word count of 50,000 (and many times a story is well over that), it means an acquisitions team has to read a full-length book before making a decision. Just like in the “submitting” phase, our panel of four REUTS directors are involved in reviewing the full manuscript. Each director reads the manuscript, and then there’s the discussion. Since people read at different speeds, with their own set of different delays (remember: our directors have responsibilities to already signed authors outside of their acquisitions duties) there’s no way to accurately gauge how long it will take all four team members to read a manuscript. Then there’s the discussion, which is absolutely necessary, as each of our directors brings a different perspective to the table. Editorial Director Kisa Whipkey weighs in on the amount of work involved in bringing a manuscript up to publication standards. Marketing Director Summer Wier weighs in on how marketable the title would be in the current—and future—marketplace trends. This method, along with many other factors, allows us to determine whether a title will work within our collection or whether it isn’t a good fit.

We take our job very seriously, as I’m sure all Acquisitions Editors do, and that means taking our time to make sure our accrual of a new title will benefit both REUTS and—most importantly—the author.

Production
(editing, cover design, marketing, etc…)

Number one delay: Life.

Your editor won’t be your cover artist. Your cover artist won’t be your marketer. That right there means there are at least four people working together to produce your novel. And, guess what, those four people all have lives independent of each other, independent of REUTS. Yes, you’re included in that four, too. We don’t expect an author to focus on their manuscript 24/7, just as we don’t expect our production team to focus solely on your manuscript 24/7. It’s a fact many tend to ignore: life gets in the way. Sometimes you can’t control it. Sickness, death, children, leisure . . . delays sometimes happen because of the things you can’t plan for. It doesn’t mean your editor/cover artist/etc . . . isn’t fully vested in your project. It doesn’t mean you’re not a priority in the eyes of the publisher. It just . . . happens. As much as we try to account for life-based delays, let’s face it, they’re unavoidable.

In addition, on top of those life delays each team member involved in the production of your title has at least a handful of other books they’re also working on, simultaneously, and trying to make sure all authors receive the same amount of attention, especially if one of the authors has a book release looming sooner than another.

Sometimes this means we miss the original publication date, and it has to be pushed back (trust me, this happens a lot in publishing, and not just to independent presses). Many times that means scrambling until the very last second before a release day, making sure everything is set and ready to go. But always this means we’re working our very hardest for you and your manuscript. A delay doesn’t mean otherwise.

So you see, there are a lot of pieces to the puzzle that come together, from start to finish, to produce a book. Delays aren’t necessarily a bad thing. We’d much rather delay any phase of the process in order to give your story the time of day it deserves. In the “Submitting” phase, that means actually reading through your submission, and determining if we’re the best fit as a publisher or not. In the “Reviewing” phase, that means reading every word of that 50,000+ word story, becoming emotionally invested in your characters/world/etc… and trying to find a place for it in our collection. And then finally, in “Production”, where if everything wasn’t done digitally, our blood, sweat, and tears would stain your pages because we want to put out the very best product possible.

Publishing is largely a waiting game. That should come as no surprise. But just remember what they say:

Patience is a virtue.

The post “Hey, what’s taking so long?” The Delays in Publishing appeared first on REUTS | Boutique Book Publisher |.

Writer’s block is often portrayed as a crippling state in which the writer simply cannot write. As a result, It is the writer’s most feared adversary.

Furthermore, it is often thought that the cure to writers block is either to write whatever gibberish comes to mind or wait until inspiration returns, neither of which are very appealing options.

I am here to reassure you that writer’s block is a perfectly normal part of the writing process, and that it can not only be worked around, but can be essential in the creation of quality writing.

What Can Cause A Block?

Fear

Known as the ‘blank page syndrome’. This form of writers block has a lot to do with self trickery. Somehow, when we see a blank page, we lose faith in our ability to fill the spaces. Our thoughts start to race and we see the end way, way off in the distance. At these times, you just need to calm yourself. A little writing every day will get you to the final goal. Nobody expects you to achieve everything at once.

Lack of Motivation

Let’s face it, writing is difficult. It takes a lot of time and effort. It causes a lot of frustration, so it comes as no surprise that a writer’s motivation falters. Do not let it worry you. If you truly enjoy writing, then you will always return to it with renewed passion.

Lack of Information

Today you decided that it would be a great idea to write a story about an orphan, but you know nothing about orphanages or children. You just have your own mash of experiences and book learning, and this is not making you feel confident. That’s alright. All this means is that you want to be a credible author, you want the facts strait. The internet is here to help.

High Standards

Similar to the first cause of writer’s block, a writer’s own self criticism can prevent them from writing. It can be easy to get trapped in the cycle of “I can’t writing anything good so I won’t write anything at all”. At times like these, remember to give yourself a break. For taking the time to seek out advice, you are already a much better writer than you believe and if you feel truly dissatisfied, then know that you don’t have to share your writing until you feel the time is right.

Solutions to Writer’s Block

Find a Writing Prompt

With hundreds of available prompts including single words, scenarios, pictures, and entire plot lines, there is certainly something for you.

Get inspired

• Deviantart literature community
• The Write Prompts
• Creative Writing Now
• Plot Generator

Go For a Walk

It doesn’t matter if you are at work or at home, staring at a page for hours can put you to sleep. I know that you were told to write, but while you’re not doing anything you might as well go for a short walk. This will clear the fog from your head, lighten your mood, give you time to mull over any problems, and possibly lead to some people watching inspiration.

Research and Planning

This may include the research of real world facts, determining the rules of your world, or putting down plot points. You might ask yourself, “What does my character want?”. Often a lack of knowledge will hinder our writing as we strive for nothing less than perfection in the portrayal of our story’s characters and world.

Skip It

If what you don’t know will not kill you or your character, try leaving a blank space with instructions to fill in the information later. This happens to me often with character names and places. This method should be used sparingly or else you risk finding gaps in your story when you go back to edit. Nobody likes to do something twice.

Read Other Stories

When you read the work of other authors, you instinctively pick out what you like and don’t like about the writing, characters, and plot. In doing so you may get ideas for your own writing. I like to think that I can write something even better by the time I’m finished.

Read About Writing

With all the free time you have from not writing, you have a whole new opportunity to better yourself. Plus, I find that after a while you will realize that you already know how to write and, since you are now bored of wasting your time on the internet, you will quickly get back to writing.

Listen to Music

For those times that you know what you want to write, but don’t feel like writing, some good music can put you in the proper mood.

Listen to Free Music

• Groveshark
• Soundcloud
• Songza App

Try a New Perspective

This is useful for those who have re-written a scene several times, but remain unsatisfied with the results. Often I discover that starting the scene from the perspective of a different character or moving it back or forward in time can be just what was needed to move ahead.

Follow Your Desire

Abandon the current writing task and take a break. Just remember to return to writing. I find that switching between different stories helps. This way I can still be somewhat productive.

Most Importantly, have fun.

ABOUT THE AUTHOR

You will know me as Denny B. Reese.

I grew up in Whitby ON, nestled between the mystery of Toronto and the perseverance of Oshawa, as I saw it.

I dedicated myself to writing at a young age. I still remember the summer when I brought my diary to the cottage so that I could fill it with a fantasy story I had dreamed about. Every day events never did interest me enough to write down. In my time, I have been influenced by the works of Tamora Pierce, Emily Rodda, Mary Stanton, Holly Black, and Jonathan Stroud.

Comically enough, English was one of my worst subjects, but I loved the impact of words so much that I later pursued a degree in this area. There have also been many times where I was ready to give up on writing, but when words failed me the love for my characters and their imaginary world pulled me forward. Writing is now the greatest and most fulfilling challenge in my life.

WRITE FOR REUTS

See your articles on the REUTS blog! Syndicate a post, or write a new one. Lear more here.

The post Writer’s Block: Cause and Solution appeared first on REUTS | Boutique Book Publisher |.

And that’s okay.

It’s more than okay; it’s great, actually. Some of the best writing comes from unanticipated scenes. The more time you spend writing your story, the more you get to know your characters. With better understanding of their personalities, certain scenes beg to be written as you continue to compose.

These unanticipated scenes can’t be planned when first drafting your story. A lot of writers (myself included) struggle over drafting every part of the outline, from the beginning to the rising action to the climax to the resolution. I can’t count all the stories I have started and never finished just because I could not plot out each scene.

Then I moved to the city.

During my job in Washington DC, I’ve been lost a ridiculous amount of times. I used to stress out about it every time I took a wrong turn. Traveling off the designated road was scary and new and confusing.

Over time, I made some of the best discoveries about DC while not following the planned path. Whether it was discovering a new park, finding the best cup of coffee, or making an unexpected friend, each time I thought I was lost – I ended up finding something great. I learned to embrace the chaos.

The same feeling started to apply to my writing. Instead of worrying about where the story was headed (how can I possibly have this plot twist and still have my resolution?), I learned to go with the flow of my writing. If I write a scene which is unplanned or against the initial direction of my story, I no longer worry about reaching the ending. The best part about stories isn’t finishing them; it’s the process of writing them. Every plot twist in creativity should be welcomed instead of crushed.

Lee Child, bestselling author and creator of the Jack Reacher series, repeatedly says in interviews that he doesn’t outline. Meg Cabot composes entire blog posts dedicated to why she doesn’t outline. For both authors, writing is an organic process and can’t be planned. It’s not necessary to have a detailed list of everything which needs to happen. Writers are new to the story just like I was new to the city; there’s so much left to be explored.

At the same time, I completely understand authors who write best with outlines. If they have an idea, why not document it? But a writer should never feel hindered from writing a story just because the scene can’t be anticipated. Plot development should be explored fearlessly. All that’s needed for a story idea is a beginning and an end; the adventure is how your characters reach the conclusion.

While I’ve been lost many times in my plot and my current city, I always find my way to exactly where I want to go. Don’t be afraid to follow the unexpected turn in your story – it always works out in the end.

ABOUT THE AUTHOR

Pema Donyo is a coffee-fueled college student by day and an author by night. She currently lives in sunny Southern California, where any temperature less than 70 degrees is freezing and flip-flops never go out of season. As a current student at Claremont McKenna, she’s still working on mastering that delicate balance between finishing homework, meeting publisher deadlines, and… college. Catch up with her latest book release information or writerly musings on her blog.

WRITE FOR REUTS

See your articles on the REUTS blog! Syndicate a post, or write a new one. Lear more here.

The post It’s Okay to Get Lost: Plot and the City appeared first on REUTS | Boutique Book Publisher |.

This week, I’ve been judging entries for the ProjectREUTSway competition held during the month of November. Buried amid 144 short stories, I started to think about what exactly makes one “successful”. I think most of you know by now that I, myself, published 3, so this is a topic that hits very close to home. It’s also one I’ve never really stopped to think about. Until now. Because, let’s face it, short stories are strange. Similar to novels and yet completely dissimilar, they require a certain — almost magic — recipe to really shine. I don’t believe in the undefinable though, (at least not when it comes to writing) so let’s see if we can’t identify the exact ingredients that make short stories such a unique form of storytelling.

Short stories are often considered a novelist’s training wheels; the idea being that someone can learn the basics of storytelling through short stories and then graduate into novels. But that’s not exactly what happens. Because, in reality, they require two different skill sets to pull off well. A short story is not a truncated novel, nor is a novel an elongated, rambling short story. Rarely can the concept for one be turned successfully into the other. And yet people still try. Why? Because short stories have been given a bad rap. Novels take all the glory, leaving short stories to rot in creative writing jail like fiction offenders. They’re looked down on as an inferior form of narrative, an eighth grade diploma to the novel’s PHD. After all, the only difference between them is length, right?

Wrong.

There are three things a successful short story must have: brevity, focus, and telling. Yes, you heard me, telling. But before you get your knickers in a bunch, let me explain further.

1. Brevity

 
Novelists are taught the value of brevity. But even the most refined novels still sprawl, meandering through details and settings and other things short story authors simply can’t afford. Literally every word matters in a short story. No detail is extraneous. If we mention the light blue collar on a random cat, you can bet that collar is important somehow.

The same holds true for the words themselves. Novelists are allowed to write sentences like this:

She paused, grabbing the handle of the stainless steel refrigerator and pulling it open with a subtle flick of her wrist.

(Hey, no comments on the quality. Clearly, I know that sentence is atrocious. I’m proving a point. )

That’s 21 words to say this:

She opened the refrigerator door.

Yes, that may be a bit exaggerated, but you see what I mean, I hope. When you only have maybe 5000 words of space, every letter has to serve a purpose. Successful short stories know this, and the language/storytelling is as finely honed as a scalpel. If it doesn’t somehow move the plot along, impart valuable information or absolutely have to exist, it doesn’t.

2. Focus

 
I’m a firm believer that every story should have a message, a reason for existing. But maybe that’s because I started out as a short story author. Whenever I come up with an idea, I identify the core message first, before the setting, characters, or even plot. For example, The Bardach is a story about identity, Spinning is about fate, and Confessions is about losing faith. Even Unmoving has a focal point. At its core, its about compassion. This type of focused narrative is one of the more notable differences between a short story and a novel.

Short stories are single-minded. Like a starving man spotting food, they keep their eyes on the prize. None of this wandering off into detours, flashbacks, subplots or other shenanigans that novels get away with. Nope, they have one message, one plot, one climatic moment that everything points to. And, interestingly enough, short stories are typically driven by an event, rather than a character. The focus is on the action, not the person doing it.

How does this translate into our recipe for success? Well, you’ll be able to feel the underlying drive in a really good short story. You’ll walk away from it remembering the message, not necessarily the characters. So make darn sure you know what you’re saying, both literally and subtextually.

3. Telling

 
All right. I know this is the one you were waiting for. After all the times “show, don’t tell” has been beaten into your head, you simply can’t believe I’d actually stand here and advocate telling, can you? Well, I’m not really.

See, the thing is, showing is still 100% better than telling. But, telling is allowed in a short story. Due to the limited amount of time you have to impart your narrative, there’s really no way around it. You don’t have the luxury of wasting thousands of words, or even hundreds, showing us the back-story. Nor can you illustrate anything directly outside the timeline of the main event, regardless how important it may be. So that only leaves one option — telling. You should still avoid the dreaded info-dump if you can, but slipping in the occasional line of summary, or a paragraph of back-story, won’t automatically earn you peer derision. Well, most of the time, anyway.

Successful short story authors are masters of knowing when to tell and when to show. (Which, by the way, I am not. Just wanted to clarify that in case anyone thought I was going to be cocky and throw myself on that list.) They give you just enough information — typically in the form of telling — to make their worlds/characters feel as fleshed out as a novel’s, but not so much that you really notice. They cover a lot of ground in a really short amount of time, making this the hardest skill on the list. It actually requires mastery of the other two to pull off, which is why I listed it last.

And there you have it; the anatomy of a successful short story. Learn how to control these three elements and your short fiction will stand out in a pile like little beacons. And let’s all try to stop viewing short stories as the lesser form of fiction. They’re not inferior. Just different.

**This post has been syndicated from Editorial Director, Kisa Whipkey’s personal Blog: Nightwolf’s Corner.**

The post The Anatomy of a Successful Short Story appeared first on REUTS | Boutique Book Publisher |.

(Prepare to get kingslapped with knowledge, interwebs!)

In today’s saturated online landscape, there is only ONE thing that will put you head and shoulders above your competition: Content.

Seriously, you guys–clear, reliable, quality CONTENT.

That’s it. That’s the secret. Continual product. Otherwise, your target market will eventually get tired of waiting for the next product, and they’ll move on.

Having a hard time thinking of your beloved book as a product? I know, it’s totally harsh. But so, so true.

Think about it this way: maybe you’re a baker. Like, you are really good at baking wedding cakes. It’s a gift you were born with, blessed by the pastry gods. The first cake you bake is scrumptious, amazing. The couple you make it for is thrilled. Everyone at the wedding is raving. But then the party ends, and everyone goes home. Some of the guests will remember that awesome cake, and go looking for your information. They’ll want to see what other kind of stuff you know how to make. If you’re lucky, they might even want to hire you to make a cake for them.

But whoops, it took you so long to make the first cake that you’re not really sure  you want to dive right in and start making another one. Heck, you just finished pouring your heart and soul into that last cake, and you’re tired. Maybe you’re not even sure if you can do it again. So you put it off, and eventually, people stop asking for a taste. They forget about you. Until one day, you feel like baking another cake and no one is around to try it. And you have ALL the sads.

Yes, I realize that was a terrible, terrible example. (Unless you like Cake Boss, then it’s an AMAZING example.)

***

So. (Ahem) What does this mean for you? How about if I just tell you, and skip the analogies from now on, eh?

If you’re a book blogger, post a lot of book reviews on your blog. Do it frequently, and do it well.

If you’re a journalist, you need to keep writing articles. Otherwise your portfolio will gather dust, and no one will want to hire you.

If you’re an author, you need to write a lot of books. Sorry guys, but that’s the way it is. Sure, it’s difficult. Sure, it’s an extremely demanding existence. But today’s consumer is demanding and fickle at the same time and–with a handful of exceptions, like us die-hard George R.R. Martin fans–they don’t want to wait more than a year to find out what else you’ve got up your sleeve.

***

So how do you do this? How do you ensure that you’ve got enough content to satisfy not only your current fans, but potential future fans on top of that?

First of all, you write. A lot. And you keep writing. Even if you think it’s terrible. Because that’s not just the best way to produce a ton of content, it’s also how you get better.

Tune in next week for (much, much) more helpful tips on how to create clear, reliable, quality content! (I promise, it’s not as difficult as it seems!)

The post Marketing Monday: CONTENT. Do you even HAVE it, bro? appeared first on REUTS | Boutique Book Publisher |.

Surprisingly, I’ve actually seen the statement (more than once) that writers don’t need to worry about things like grammar and spelling. That’s the editor’s job; they’ll clean it up. (Every time someone says this, another editing muse disintegrates into ash from the horror.) No, actually, that’s not our job. It’s yours. Yes, editors (especially freelance editors) are more forgiving of the occasional typo and drunk-sounding sentence than your average reader, but that doesn’t mean they want to sludge through something that isn’t even as legible as your 4th grade history paper. And if your 4th grade teacher made you proofread, what makes you think an editor standing between you and publication, between you and being paid for your work, wouldn’t expect the same thing?

Exactly. They do.

But that doesn’t mean editing has to be as painful as a self-lobotomy. In fact, I’ve given tips to get you through the revision process before. (Divorce Your Words; Save Your Story) It’s a topic that bears repeating though, so today, I’m going to give you another set of helpful insights, not from the perspective of a writer (like that previous post was) but from that of an editor. (Hold on a moment while I swap my writer hat for my editor one . . . Okay. Ready.)

1. Step Back

 
No, I’m not bastardizing “step off” so don’t get your panties in a bunch. Step back is a concept from the art world. In fact, it’s one of the first things you learn at art school. (Yes, you learn stuff at art school. Shocking, I know.) The idea is that an artist can’t clearly see the entirety of their work when they’re hunched over it and it’s about 6 inches from their face, so they have to “step back” to change their perspective and see their work the way the world does. Now it makes sense, huh?

The first step in self-editing is finding a way to create that shift in perspective, to see the work you’ve poured your heart into for the past year in a different way. We’re too close to it during the creation phase, viewing it like an overprotective mother turning a blind eye to their kid’s flaws. You have to break that connection before you can even begin to analyze your work objectively. You need to step back.

The easiest way to do that is simply to shove your manuscript in a drawer for a few days and avoid it like a note from a debt collector trying to repo your car. I recommend a bare minimum of 48 hours, but a week to a month would be better. That allows the warm, fuzzy glow of creation to fade away and stark reality to set in. If you can’t afford to take the time off, then simply changing the mode of viewing can help. Download it onto an eReader or print it out. Even just move to the Starbucks two blocks away instead of the one next to your house. The change of venue will automatically clear your perspective of any lingering rosy tint and allow you to see more clearly.

2. Ignore the Details

 
Editing is synonymous with comma hunting, spell-check, and word choice, right? Wrong. So many writers (and more than a few editors) dive right into the detail work, thinking all they have to do is clean up the grammar, completely skipping over a very crucial step — structural editing. Bypassing this is like trying to repair a broken bone with makeup. All you end up with is a mangled limb painted like a hooker. Offensive, maybe, but it gets the point across, no?

At this stage in the process, no one cares if you spelled “definitely” wrong, or have a bazillion commas in all the wrong places. Ignore all that. Look deeper, at the story itself. If the structure isn’t working, there’s no point in polishing. That lump of coal’s not turning into a diamond. The only way to fix it is to become a story surgeon, diagnosing and repairing things that are otherwise fatal to your chances of publication. How? Like this:

Take that fresh perspective you earned in step 1 and read through your manuscript from an aerial view, glossing over all the details. You’ll fix them later. Right now, you want to focus on things like pacing, character motivations, world development, scene transitions and narrative sequence. What’s the message of your book? Is that coming through clearly? Do the characters feel like fully-fleshed out people, or cardboard cut-outs? Are the scenes in the right order or does shuffling a few around improve the plot’s progression? These are the kinds of questions you should be asking. Trust your instincts as a reader. We’ve all been programmed to know when a story works and when it doesn’t. And don’t be afraid to make a giant mess; you can stitch it all back together afterward.

3. Murder Your Habit Words

 
Habit words are insidious, riddling your manuscript like a cancer, so before you send your book off to the cosmetic surgeon (aka, your editor) for that much-needed facelift, you need to eradicate them. (Don’t ask why my favorite analogy for editing is medical. I don’t know.) Don’t feel bad, everyone has them. They’re like comfort food, something we turn to without even realizing. My habit words are “was” and “so.” I’m sure I have others, but that’s all I’m admitting to.

Other common ones are “that,” “had,” and “actually.” It can also be a phrase like “for a moment” or “roll his/her/their eyes.” Pretty much anything you find repeating over and over again qualifies as a habit word. Ideally, you should try to avoid repeating words on the same page or even the same chapter! The English vocabulary is huge; use it to your advantage. But without being pretentious about it. Rarely will you find a word that doesn’t have at least one synonym. So before you go to the next step, arm that delete button with a hefty dose of radiation and go hunting for your habit words. You can’t kill them all, but you’ll be surprised at how even just this small tweak can drastically improve the smoothness of your prose.

4. Rhythm’s in the Details

 
Now you get to go through your manuscript with a fine-toothed comb, copyediting line by line until it’s as perfect as you can make it on your own. This includes things like fixing rocky sentences, condensing wordy parts, simplifying convoluted phrasing, fixing grammar mistakes and just general tweaking for rhythm and smoothness. This is what people picture when they hear “editing.” It’s the tedious part that will make you want to poke your own eyes out just so you never have to read that chapter ever again. It’s repetitive and monotonous, but it’s like sending your book to the gym. Each pass will trim a little more of the fat until your manuscript is a lean, efficient piece of storytelling. At which point you send it to an editor and the whole process starts over.

That’s right. I just outlined what a professional editor does. (With the exception of #1.)

So, why, if these are all steps you can do yourself, do editors exist? Because they provide objectivity. Even a self-editing master won’t be able to catch everything. Writers can never truly disconnect from their work, can never view it with complete objectivity, because they know the story and what they were trying to convey. An editor provides clarity, finding things that are confusing or missing just like a reader would. But since they’re also literary doctors, they’ll help you fix it, saving you from the embarrassing backlash of reader criticism and scorn. Besides, two heads are better than one. Right?

**Syndicated from Nightwolf’s Corner, the personal blog of Senior Editor, Kisa Whipkey.**

The post Self-Editing Tips From an Editor appeared first on REUTS | Boutique Book Publisher |.

Recently, I sent a frustrated plea to the Twitterverse, begging authors to do their research before including the martial arts in their fights. Believe it or not, it wasn’t until after I sent that plea that the light bulb appeared and I realized I’m in a unique position to help my fellow authors. As both a martial artist and a writer, I have insight that could help authors overcome the hurdle of fight scenes. So today, I’m going to use that background to dissect a written fight scene and hopefully illustrate how to effectively incorporate martial arts techniques. About time, right?

First, let’s take a look at what you don’t want to do.

_________

Charlie grunted as his back slammed into the wall, his opponent’s hands wrapped thoroughly around his throat. He struggled, trying to kick his opponent in the groin but only managing to connect with the man’s shin. The attacker snarled, loosening his hold on Charlie’s neck. Without pausing, Charlie threw his left arm between them, turning to the side and trapping the attacker’s arm against his own chest before elbowing the man in the face.

The attacker stumbled backwards, grasping at his bleeding nose. Charlie didn’t wait. He had the upper-hand. He advanced toward his opponent, his hands raised to guard his face, his body relaxed into a sparring stance. The attacker glared up at him, straightening into a matching stance.

With a yell, Charlie threw a round-kick at the attacker’s head. His opponent ducked, sliding between Charlie’s legs on his knees and jumping to his feet with a swift kick to Charlie’s back. Charlie stumbled forward, turning to face his attacker before he was struck again and instantly ducked the knife hand strike aimed at his head. Charlie responded with a flurry of punches, varying his target from the man’s head to his torso and back again. The man blocked most, but a few landed, knocking the attacker from his feet.

Charlie stood over him for a split second before finishing him off with a well-placed axe kick to the sternum. As the attacker rolled on the ground, sputtering, Charlie ran for the safety of a nearby cafe.

_________

Now, that’s shockingly not as bad as some I’ve seen, although it’s sure not going to win me a Pulitzer either. Some of you may even think this is an alright fight scene, aside from the obvious grammatical flaws that could be fixed with a few more drafts. But this is the example of what not to do, remember? So let’s figure out why.

Did you notice that I gave you very little about why this fight is happening, or where? I didn’t even give you the attacker’s name! But I did tell you in agonizing detail the techniques they’re using and where the blows land, placing all the emphasis on the choreography, and none at all on the characters or motivation behind this moment. The result? A laundry list of steps you could re-enact, but that you feel not at all.

That’s because this approach is all telling. That’s right, the infamous telling vs. showing debate. I tell you exactly what’s happening, but I don’t show it at all. You don’t feel invested in Charlie’s situation. You don’t feel the emotions. You feel excited, sure, because it’s action, and even poorly written action is exciting. But it has no lasting impact on you, does it? This scene is about as forgettable as they come.

It’s also unrealistic. Who out there noticed the completely implausible choreography I threw in? I know the martial artists in the audience did, because it screams “cool factor,” it’s entire existence a nod to something awesome and badass, but that in reality is actually physically impossible.

If you guessed the knee slide under Charlie’s legs, you’d be correct. Bravo! You get a cookie.

This is why it’s important to understand the dynamics of a fight, not just the choreography. Those who have done a round kick know that while performing it, you balance on one leg, your body positioned so that your center of gravity is entirely over that back leg. If someone were to try and go through your legs the way I described, they would take out your supporting leg and you’d both end up in a flailing pile of limbs.

And then there’s the knee slide itself. If you read it closely, you realized the attacker is standing still. Where’d he get the momentum for a knee slide? Unless they’re fighting on a slick, hardwood floor that’s just been mopped, he would need a running start. I don’t know about you, but if I tried to drop to my knees to slide anywhere, I’d be sitting on the floor looking like an idiot asking to get kicked in the face. It’s just not believable.

So let’s try that scene again, this time, fixing all those things I called out.

_________

Charlie grunted as his back slammed into the wall, Eric’s hands wrapped around his throat. Hate emanated from his friend’s eyes, judgement and accusation burning them into a sinister shade of blue. Charlie gasped, choking as Eric’s fingers cut off his air like a tourniquet.

His mind screamed at him, desperate to know why it was being punished. His lungs burned, his mouth working like a fish on dry land, sucking in nothing but fear. The edges of his vision started to grow fuzzy, black dots appearing over Eric’s shoulder, distorting the red glow of the club’s EXIT sign like reverse chickenpox. Panic flooded his veins with adrenaline. He struggled, clawing at the fingers sealed around his throat. He tried to kick Eric in the groin but only managed to connect with his shin, the impact ricocheting painfully through his foot.

Eric snarled, loosening his hold, giving Charlie the opening he needed. He threw his left arm between them, turning to the side and trapping Eric’s arm against his own chest before elbowing his best friend in the face.

Eric stumbled backward, grasping at his bleeding nose. Charlie didn’t wait. He advanced toward his opponent, his hands raised to guard his face, his body relaxing into the sparring stance he’d practiced for years– knees bent, weight forward on the balls of his feet, head lowered. Eric glared up at him, straightening into a matching stance. Their eyes locked. It was just like old times, only now there was no one to referee the match, to stop it before it went too far.

All this for a girl. Charlie knew it was ridiculous, that he should walk away, but fury mixed with adrenaline, coursing through him like a pulsing heat. If Eric wanted a fight, that’s what he’d get.

With a yell, Charlie threw a kick at Eric’s head. Eric ducked, sliding easily into a leg-sweep, knocking Charlie’s support from under him. The ground smashed into his back, forcing the air from his lungs in a rushing wheeze. He rolled backwards to his feet, still fighting against the tightness in his chest. Eric closed in on him, pushing his advantage, arms and legs flying. Charlie blocked as many of the blows as he could, his arms jarring in their sockets every time he did, his ribs and face blossoming with pain every time he didn’t. He stumbled back through the shadows of the alley until he was once again cornered.  Cringing, he held his hands up in surrender. Eric backed off, eying him warily as he spit blood onto the darkened pavement.

Charlie’s knuckles were bleeding, his ribs bruised, and his lip split into an oozing gash. It was time to end this.

“Alright, I give,” he said,  the words gravelly and pained as he forced his battered throat to work. “I’ll never go near your sister again.”

_________

Still not the most epic writing sample, but you see the difference, I hope? Now we not only know who Charlie’s fighting, but why. I’ve also fixed the choreography so that it’s believable, and added emotional content and description, putting the focus on the characters instead of the martial arts. No one cares about the techniques, but they care a lot about how those techniques feel, the emotion behind the action. Understanding that is the difference between creating a scene from a clinical distance and creating a deeper POV that will resonate with readers.

So, how can you take your fight scenes from flat to amazing? Easy, just remember these three things:

1. Show, don’t tell. The techniques themselves are not important, the emotion is. Only use a technique name if there’s a reason we need to know the exact kick, etc.
2. Believability is king. Never throw something in just because it sounds awesome. Make sure it’s actually physically possible and makes sense with the choreography and your world.
3. When stumped, ask an expert. If you’re at a loss, find someone familiar with the martial arts and ask. Don’t just rely on Google and Youtube. They won’t give you the insight personal experience can.

That’s really all there is to it. Not so hard after all, is it? And if you ever find yourself in need of some martial arts feedback, I’m always available. Just send me a note at kisa (at) reuts (dot) com with your questions and I’ll happily provide some help.

**This post has been syndicated from Senior Editor Kisa Whipkey’s personal blog, Nightwolf’s Corner.**

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One of the most important things a writer can do is read, read, read. Read books from your genre, outside of your genre, bestsellers, nonfiction, fiction, etc. Even reading an awful book can teach you something about the craft.

Do you guys think I have enough horses on my bookshelf?

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Do you want to be the exact same person at the end of your life as you were at the beginning? Do you want everyone you know to stay exactly as they are and never change? No? I should hope not. People should change and grow. And so should characters.

There are exceptions to every rule, but fictional characters need development. In some occasions, that development is the whole story (think Ebenezer Scrooge). In many cases, you’ll find the MC begins with some sort of flaw hindering them from accomplishing their goals, and throughout the progression of the novel they’ll overcome that flaw.

In this way, you can begin a novel with a less than perfect character, but the reader knows that throughout the book the character will learn some hard lessons and become a better person. For examples, look at:

Han Solo in Star Wars: When we first meet him, Han only looks out for number one. But by the end of the trilogy, he’s risking his life to win the war. Sure, we love him when we first meet him, but we love him even more when he matures.

Rose in Titanic: Rose is a limp noodle about to throw herself over the rail in the beginning of Titanic. Thanks to Jack and the life to which he exposes her, she becomes a feisty woman who takes control of her life and spurns her nasty fiancé.

Simba in The Lion King: This progression is probably the easiest to follow because we watch Simba grow up. As a child, he “just can’t wait to be king” because he wants to be the boss and do whatever he wants. But he comes to realize that kingship is a responsibility and an honor, and that culminates in the gorgeous scene when he ascends Pride Rock (I really love this movie, in case you couldn’t tell).

As I said, there are always exceptions, but editors and readers alike want to see story characters grow and change and become someone greater/braver/smarter/nicer than who they once were.

Look for more “What Editors Look For” posts to come, as well as introductory posts where you’ll get up close and personal with the members of the REUTS team!

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When I read as an editor, I want to be interested in your story. Nobody picks up a book and hopes to be bored (unless they’re really strange). And my expectations are being formed from the moment I read your first couple of sentences.

I think we’ve all heard some kind of advice about opening with a bang. That can mean a literal bang, like a gun going off or an explosion, or it could be something as innocuous as “All my Saturdays were exactly the same until that one.”

You can go about your hook lots of different ways, and I’m going to talk briefly about two big ones. 1) The Ordinary Day and 2) The Day It All Changes.

In #1, you open with an ordinary day. Your protagonist goes about her daily business, and perhaps one or two things are odd or out of place, but for the most part, it’s business as usual. What keeps the reader reading? The promise that things will change. The ordinariness of the day is necessary to establish the character or for contrast with what comes later.

In #2, you open with the moment that the protagonist’s life goes from ordinary to odd/extraordinary/just different. Maybe she bumps into her long-lost father on the subway or drops a quarter down a drain and discovers some kind of amphibious monster.

With just these two examples, you can see that there are many different ways to write a first chapter, from opposite ends of the spectrum to all the spots in-between.

That is an obscenely brief overview of how to craft a hook, but now I’m going to talk about some basic, universal things that I want to find when I start reading.

1. Setting. It doesn’t have to be complete or fully developed because it’s just the first chapter, but I need to have a sense of place. If your novel takes place in a dystopian world and everything is completely foreign, at least tell me whether it’s barren wasteland or glittery futurism.

2. Conflict/Tension. If you’re starting out with 1) The Ordinary Day, give me an underlying ominous hint that things are about to change. If you’re starting out with 2) The Day It All Changes, it’ll be easier to work some tension in. But the main thing is I don’t want to feel safe. I want to feel like anything can and will happen.

3. Narrator/Tone. Is this going to be a quirky narrative? What POV will it be in? Does the narrator curse like a sailor? Do they have the vocabulary of a grade-schooler or a collegiate? Are they withdrawn or expansive? You don’t have to dump the life history of a character on me – just show me how they talk, and in that you can say a lot about the whole book.

Make sense? Look over your first chapter and ask yourself what it does. Does it introduce the place, the narrator, and the beginning of conflict? If these things aren’t happening, look for the place in your novel where these things actually begin and you might find your real chapter one.

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