Once Upon a Time

Two seagulls circled overhead as we lay on our beach towels directly out of the shade of lifeguard tower ten. It wouldn't do to have the imprint of the lifeguard and his life saving buoy ring imprinted in our tans, now would it?

Bridget had pulled her long stringy red hair off her shoulders and back and even taken the strings of her bikini and let them fall to the side to facilitate a better tan line, but I still had mine tied. I looked over to see if her boob was showing, not that either of us had much to show, but you know, there were guys around who might be peeking at us.

Not likely, as it looked like we were doing summer homework with our huge notebooks, scattered pens, and papers. Probably a huge turn-off to would-be admirers, but we were currently oblivious.

In the last week, we'd become serious about our manuscript.

Oh, it was my book, and I'd written it, but Bridget had been there almost every step of the way. I'd go home after school and write a new chapter, and then all day the next day it would get passed around from friend to friend who would read it during class, and give it back to me at lunch. Of course, Bridget took it from me instantly so she could type it from my penciled handwriting for us.

I'd get it back the following day, and punch it with the three hole punch in the High School library and add it to the ever-growing collection of such chapters in my big blue notebook--- or wait, was it still being kept in a PeeChee folder, back then? Dang, I don't remember.

It got too thick eventually, so it must have been in the notebook by then.

At least by the day we laid on the beach with the seagulls vying for attention overhead, eating chips, with the lifeguard station casting it's ever cycling shadow, and our portable radio set to Southern California's KHJ, which told faithful sun worshippers on the beach to turn and reapply tanning oil every half hour--- we had Pepper's in a notebook—or two--- or three.

Pepper's. A work of what I now know was fan-fiction, loosely using the platform of our beloved Beatles to write a fictional story about ourselves. Oh, it went on and on, adding mystery, death, suspense, love, tragedy, travel, tours, music, fans--- all the things young girls dream of.

To be honest, here we were at the beach, sand, and wind, and sun, and all, and Bridge had her guitar case off to the side, on the off chance we needed a break from our current obsession.

We'd decided to edit our book.

Did I mention it was my book? I was somewhat protective of it--- I really had written it myself, but Bridget was in it, and so were most of my other friends. And she loved it like I did, and even wanted to see it get published--- it was that good. We both knew it.

"Deb, this part----."

******

(HOLD ON HERE! I have learned over the years to research what you're writing, and so for writing's sake, I have now gotten up and retrieved the actual manuscript in question from the top of my office closet, above the scrapbooks and photo albums, where it resides lovingly in Bridget's old rust colored—or is it mauve?—closing file folder. Gingerly, I get it out--- even back in the day when it was handled every day, it had started to deteriorate. It was written on notebook paper, guys. Not even college ruled notebook paper. We started it in the 8th grade.

The paper feels soft, not crisp, and it doesn't stick together. On top of the rounded squished, folded edges it says "Stick this story out!!"

The first line in cursive pen (my writing honestly hasn't changed that much in style over the years) begins,

                                      Srgt. Pepper's Lonely Hearts Club Band—

I sigh now and shake my head. I had the album in front of me back in the day, and I still spelled 'Sgt.' wrong.

I read on.

"She ran along the side of the pool, just daring anyone to get out so she could push them back in. It was amazing how many kids had shown up that he didn't know. He shook his head and went back to his room where Julian was softly strumming his guitar."

Not badly written. The She in sentence one becomes confusing in sentence two when we hear about a He—who is actually the one doing the thinking...

I close my eyes. Ahh--- that day. I remember it well. The excitement of going over to celebrate our eighth-grade graduation with a pool party at Miles' house. The crush I had on Miles' older brother Casey was pretty serious, even though I only knew him from afar. In fact, if I think about it, I didn't know him at all.

I digress!

The manuscript----pick a page.

Well, pick several.

Okay, here is one. It has little flowers and houses colored in crayon all over the top, and Bridget's handwriting, "Fix This" after the ( *).

It's an asterisk. We called it a "diddly". And we used it to separate scenes. Although we didn't call them scenes. I don't know what we called them back then--- "diddlies". (As I write this the word diddlies has shown up with a red line under it. That means it is spelled wrong, but frankly, it isn't even a word, and if I want the red line from my spell checker to go away I'll have to add it to my personal dictionary.)

The handwritten manuscript is riddled with such notes from Bridge, "Fix this", or "Check tense" or Check "Point of View", switched POV most likely. Ah--- those were the days.

****

Let's get back to that day on the beach. And now, we're going to wax into fiction, since I am not exactly sure of exact conversation, but it went something like this:

"Deb, this part where it says Bridget and Julian flew home and went directly to see Bridget's parents..." she nodded as I skimmed the text and found what she was looking at. She had her typed copy, and I had the original. "Shouldn't the word be 'visit', not see?"

"Well, they 'see' them, don't they?"

"Yeah, but 'visit' sounds better."

"I like 'see'."

"I know, but it would flow smoother and tell a little more about the reason for going to see them if you change it to visit."

My toes were digging hard into the loose warm sand, and now began flinging it up onto her back. "I think see is just fine."

"Stop kicking sand on me."

"Stop telling me to change my writing. I like see."

"Do you want it to be better? Do you want it to get published? Do you ever want people to read it? Maybe even Paul McCartney himself?" In the book, I am Paul McCartney's daughter. Yes, I wanted Paul to read it. I look back at the page and using a pen, scratch out see and write visit.

We move on.

After a half an hour, I am on edge. I am feeling attacked. I am grumpy, and annoyed, and it's time for a break or a swim, or something to take my mind off her nit-picking my story to death. She's found error after error. This should go before that, and the sentence structure in this one is bad; or an exclamation point should have been here, not here; use only three dots in an ellipses inside the sentence, unless you're ending the sentence; you spelled disbelief wrong, I before E except after c....oh gees!

I wanted to say, "You fix it then. Do whatever you want."

But it's my story, and ultimately, I need to do it.

That is if I want anyone to ever read it. But I hate rewriting. Hate it with a passion. I hate looking back and forth from one page to the last. I hate trying to find my spot again and again. And I will never, never please this grammar nazi (they weren't called that back then) that my best friend has become.

"There's a capital in the middle of the sentence." She observes, going on as I sit up.

"I'm sure there is."

You're killing me, Bridget, killing me! You're murdering my baby. You're scraping my insides with a knife. Why are you doing this to me? Why? Don't you like my writing? It's my life, my everything, my passion, my hobby, my escape when life gets to me, and you---- you're making it seem like a toddler could do better!

*****

Oh, I feel my pain from back then. I feel it with every fiber of my being.

And I know--- know how it feels to have someone else who isn't inside my head with me, misunderstand my intention, get something else out of my writing than what I thought----

Bludgeon every little word choice with their sharp red pen.

But--- I also know--- it is absolutely necessary to have it done. If you hate having someone tell you to use 'too' instead of 'to' a gazillion times, you're going to have to learn where to place 'too' instead of 'to' on your own, and put it there before you ask for a critique, or a review, or even a beta read.

And if you can't--- then that is why you need an editor. They will make those corrections/ suggestions for you. It may cost you a pretty penny (in the real world line editing can cost anywhere from 28.61 to 44.06 an hour) and most line editors work for major publishing companies, and won't even accept your manuscript till you've proofed it first with one of the million online grammar checkers.

On wattpad, we don't charge money, we ask for reads, and critiques and comments and follows, shout outs to get our stories even looked at--- some so we can improve them, and others so we can build a following and a name for ourselves.

Either way---

If you are passionate about writing. If your story is unique and meaningful, if it encompasses pieces of your inner core, and needs to be shared---- take the time to "Fix It" as Bridget would say. Don't get up and leave in disgust, she loves your story, she is just trying to make it the best it can be.

******

Here are a few things to think about: 

WHAT'S A LINE EDIT?

A line edit addresses the creative content, writing style, and language use at the sentence and paragraph level. But the purpose of a line edit is not to comb your manuscript for errors – rather, a line edit focuses on the way you use language to communicate your story to the reader. Is your language clear, fluid, and pleasurable to read? Does it convey a sense of atmosphere, emotion, and tone? Do the words you've chosen convey a precise meaning, or are you using broad generalizations and clichés?

An editor may draw your attention to:

· Words or sentences that are extraneous or overused

· Run-on sentences

· Redundancies from repeating the same information in different ways

· Dialogue or paragraphs that can be tightened

· Scenes where the action is confusing or the author's meaning is unclear due to bad transitions

· Tonal shifts and unnatural phrasing

· Passages that don't read well due to bland language use

· Confusing narrative digressions

· Changes that can be made to improve the pacing of a passage

· Words or phrases that may clarify or enhance your meaning.

The purpose of working with a general editor in this way is not just to improve your current manuscript, but to give you the creative tools to become a better writer in ways you can carry with you to future projects.

***

IN THAT CASE, WHAT'S A COPYEDIT?

By contrast, the goal of a copyedit is to address flaws on a very technical level – to make sure the writing that appears on the page is in accordance with industry standards. This is like an incredibly high-end proofread.

A copyedit:

· Corrects spelling, grammar, punctuation, and syntax

· Ensures consistency in spelling, hyphenation, numerals, fonts, and capitalization

· Flags ambiguous or factually incorrect statements (especially important for non-fiction)

· Tracks macro concerns like internal consistency.

Internal consistency means your plot, setting, and character traits don't have discrepancies. For example, if on page 41 you write: Rosemary wore her blond hair in a bun, and then on page 67 you write Rosemary brushed her long black hair, it's a copyeditor's job to point that out.

There will be some overlap between the work of a general editor and a copyeditor. Most developmental editors will point out technical errors or logical inconsistencies when they jump out, because they're trying to make your writing better, and because editors tend to be perfectionists by disposition (guilty as charged!). But it is not the specific purpose of a line edit to comb through your prose, fix your grammar, typos, or capitalize proper nouns. 

nybookeditors.com/2015/01/copyediting-vs-line-editing/ 

Read the above for the whole article

Now on to the form!!!