It’s the classic editor’s dilemma: how to give constructive criticism
without shattering another writer’s hopes and dreams into small, dust-like
shards. I know it all too well. Give me a manuscript to edit, and I’ll send it
back with Track Changes red ink and hundreds of little Microsoft Word comments
in the margins.
That’s right. Hundreds.
Most of the time, they’ll be as polite as a dignified
British butler. Unless you’re my friend, in which case they’ll sound a lot like
I talk. Which is not particularly dignified. To illustrate, I asked my roommate
if I could include some of my favorite comments that I made on her fantasy-in-progress.
Highlighted: “The wall was a mere three feet high.”
My Comment: Why even make it that high? Explain. (To keep
sheep in? To establish zoning for taxes? Because it looks nice on a postcard?)
Highlighted: “I stared at him.”
My Comment: Um, wasn’t she staring at him before? Only say
this if she notices something about him that makes it significant. Like, “I
stared at him. He was smiling like my imprisonment was a good thing” or “I
stared at him. He started to do the chicken dance.”
Highlighted: “Nothing could make me feel worse at this
point.”
My Comment: “Never say such things. It’s like, “How could
this be any worse?” Then, CLANG! Anvil falls from the sky, crushing Wiley
Coyote.”
Highlighted: “Death. Death. Death.”
My Comment: Catchy little slogan.
Thankfully, that particular manuscript gave me lots of
places to insert comments about the things that I liked. Not all manuscripts
do. Another one of my writer friends recently talked about a book she was given
to review that had no redeeming qualities whatsoever. When searching for
something positive to affirm so that the review wouldn’t be a hopeless swamp of
negativity, she came up with this gem: “Your sentences were so complete.”
To which another writer added, “Good for you—you used
punctuation!”
And the game began. How many compliments can we come up with
to affirm a writer with absolutely no talent? Here are just a few.
“I loved the way you placed those helping verbs.”
“Your plot made me feel a variety of strong emotions.”
(Please don’t specify which ones—disgust, nausea, and abject horror don’t have
very positive connotations.)
“You created such sharp, crisp contrasts with those
paragraph breaks.”
“Times New Roman is my favorite font ever!” (If another font
was used, find out the name and compliment it…unless it was written entirely in
Comic Sans or Papyrus. Then just cry or run to the nearest shredder.)
“Wow, I’ve never read a plot exactly like this before.”
“I love the way you set the tone of the story right away.”
(Example: you knew right away that it would be horrible.)
“I was so glad to see that there were no cliché quotes from
twentieth-century existential philosophers in your dialogue.” (Or any obscure
compliment like this.)
“I can tell that you put a lot of thought into the capitalization
at the beginning of sentences—that area of mechanics was virtually error-free.”
“Your ending was so final!”
I hope this can be a helpful resource in the struggle
between truth and love in editing. Because even though we all know we’re
supposed to enjoy learning about our weaknesses so we can improve, secretly we
all want to hear our editor tell us some things that we did well too. Hopefully
you can find more to say than just these compliments.
So go out there and edit, red pen and all—but be nice.
The classic: "I loved the ending!" (leaving out the "because it was over" part of course)
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