'How do I get a book edited reliably?' (The Budget Version)

Today we’re going back to basics, and back to values. One of this community emailed me a few months back, and to be completely truthful, I baulked at the work involved in answering them fully, because it was so overwhelming — which is of course why she emailed in the first place. Here’s her email, abbreviated:

As a whole, I guess I just feel confused about what it is that happens between writing a book and getting it published. No one has read what I've written yet, and I simply don't know where to go from here. Of course, it feels unwise, if the goal is getting my book published, to "cold call," for lack of a better term…

I guess that boils down to these questions:

How do I go about getting a book edited reliably? How do I know where to send it if I'm trying to get it published?

My writing here — particularly when I’m feeling mentally beleaguered as I have of late — is about reaching out, and being reached out to. So I am harnessing the thought of that particular value of mine to finally make a start on answering this reader’s questions, with hopefully something here for those of you who are further down the line too, because I see a shift in the industry that needs paying attention to.

Let’s correct a couple of misconceptions first. Most people have an idea of getting published that seems firmly rooted in the Victorian era: a writer works in isolation, then sends in a printed typescript to a publishing house, where a bespectacled person reads it, before meeting the author in a cosy little room in a nice building in Bloomsbury or Manhattan, offering them some money, writing a contract that no one understands, and then … they are published!

It would take me a year to debunk all of this, and I know many of you will already know it, but let’s keep it simple: it is almost impossible to cold call publishers these days when it comes to ‘trade’ or ‘commercial’ fiction and non-fiction. (That means books that aren’t for a specific academic or business audience, but for popular consumption. The ones most of us want to write.) Only a few small indie publishers do open calls, and often only at certain times of year. Some of them are fantastic but you might not be paid much outright, if at all.

To find a publisher with means, you need a literary agent. Representation. These middle-people act as the filter, picking a handful of the manuscripts that appear on their reading or ‘slush’ pile to sell to publishing houses. They know who to send your book to and how to sell it to them. They may do that for your whole career if you find a good one.

So your first question should be: how do I find an agent?

But before then, there is another stage. This is often where people slip up, even those who know very well how the industry works.

I am going to use a paragraph I sent to an author I’m currently working with to explain the situation I see currently:

Generally these days agents aren’t interested in genuine raw material, they are expecting nearly finished novels. Think of it like this: an agent’s job is only 5% about finding new authors, 95% other stuff. The 5% is crucial, of course, but many agents could survive off their current authors’ earnings for years. This means they won’t prioritise novels that need a lot of work – because that costs them money they don’t know if they’ll recoup – over novels that they can see themselves submitting to publishing houses soon. By nearly-finished, I mean everything from the overarching structure, to the line level. You need to give them an easy win. Once you have an agent and a publisher they will be more motivated to help you with these earlier stages, but for most authors, the first novel is an exercise in being one’s own agent and editor.

What I didn’t say to them but add will here is this: even when you have both agent and editor, you can’t sit on your laurels. Unless your last novel was a barnstorming success, the pressure is on to deliver finessed work. Publishing houses are forever tightening budgets, which means stretched editorial staff who won’t have the time to do many rounds with you. It’s surprising how often I am asked to edit books by authors who already have editors. I have many thoughts about how this expense is essentially being passed onto the author by the publishing houses. But all of this is to say that being published is becoming harder and harder to gain for those who don’t have money or at least the time to invest in their work.

Because, believe me, you cannot edit your work alone. Even the best writers need feedback, just as a chef who’s been in the kitchen all day needs someone to taste their food.

If you’re at the start of your career you need multiple reads by people who can see your book with a degree of understanding about the craft, and within the context of the market you’re hoping to reach, before you even think of sending to the agents.

This may well sound like a freelancer editor trying to sell their services. However I am writing today to tell you that they don’t need to be paid professionals. It is absolutely doable on a budget, but it requires bravery and proactivity.

In an effort to un-sell my services, this is my recipe for editing your book for free. The first three, I would say, are necessities.

First, read. The best way to learn how to write is to read. To really read. To choose a favourite book and read it again and again and notice how the writer does it. How they write dialogue. How they set a scene. How they convey emotion. How they give you a sense of a character. Write study notes dissecting the book, looking at pace, plot, character development, story arc. Then do this many times for many books. Particularly read books that are like your book, by which I mean in the same genre, and notice how they do things. Then go back to your book and see how you match up, how you could improve on what they do. Make sure you read books that are being published now (i.e. this year and last) and are at least moderately successful, so that you know what agents are looking for. But reading your own work will, as I say, only get you so far. So…

Second, the friends and family read. Who do you know who reads a lot of books? Who would give you an honest opinion? I normally suggest staying away from those really close to you, unless those people are able to be objective and really know books. Get a few of these reads, because some of the feedback will be similar and some will be anomalies you can ignore. Importantly, you must be specific about what you’re asking of them. Direct their inquiries: what bits are boring/slow/don’t make sense. Which characters did they like or not like? What friend would they recommend a book like this to? Did it remind them of any other writers? Which parts of the plot did they not understand or believe in? They might not have the technical vocabulary but they will still be able to convey was isn’t working. I often used to ask my mum to read the books I was publishing. She wasn’t a literature student by any stretch, but she was blunt and true to a fault: ‘I wasn’t sure why I was meant to care about X’, or ‘I just couldn’t get into it.’ This round of feedback might come loaded with a whole raft of attached emotion though, and that’s why you also need…

Third, the writers read. Find a writing community who you can swap work with, in person or online. There are so many of them out there that I’m not going to attempt a list, from the local to the international, on social media, in person and on specific apps and platforms. If you are hesitating to do this, ask yourself why? Are you scared of being criticised by people you respect? Well that is exactly why you must do it, and once you’ve started doing it, it will become easier, I promise, even fun! Within these groups you may find one or two people who get what you’re doing and whose opinion you trust. Again, you simply want a reader’s reaction, but it may also come with some understanding of the difficulty you’ve already had in getting to where you are now, and what you might be able to do to solve any issues. Trust difficult feedback. Engage with it, asking questions of the person who gave it, and talking through solutions.

Importantly, I believe it is crucial to keep consulting your own inner editor throughout this process. Don’t think that just because you’ve incorporated lots of people’s feedback you are done. The most important factor here is time away from your work. When you’ve done an intensive round of edits, take a month off, and then come back to your work with all that feedback there in the background, and read the novel quickly. Don’t be distracted by small errors. Your gut should tell you whether you are doing what you set out to do with this story. If it’s telling you another round is needed, allow yourself that moment of doom and gloom, and then pick up the pen.

Fourth, the industry read: competitions, bursaries and mentors. There aren’t many ways you can get read for free by the industry, but competitions/prizes are one of them. They serve the purpose of giving you an idea of how your work is received, but you will also, if you get shortlisted, have access to people in the industry who may be able to give you more detailed feedback. You can also apply for writing bursaries. They are basically a bit of money to help you with your writing, but if you win them then you will know you are on the right track and will again have access to industry people. You could even try to find a writing mentor. This may be someone you meet in a competition, or online, but someone who is already published, and who you can ask if they’d consider mentoring you. If they like your work they may well be open to paying it forward. This may all sound very far away to you right now, but trust in the process. Once you step a toe into the writing world, one things will follow another and you’ll find doors opening and it all making a tiny bit more sense.

Fifth, the agent read. When you’ve incorporated many rounds of feedback – I’d suggest at least 5 but better 10 – you can try sending to or ‘querying’ agents. But an important lesson here: don’t expect your first novel to get an agent. It is far better to know how very unlikely this is now. That doesn’t mean you can forgo the experience – without it you can’t get to book 2, or book 3, or book 4. You need every failed submission to get to that one that does get published. You are on an apprenticeship. And with every failure you’ll learn something. If you get no replies at all within six months of querying, or only standard rejections, you’ll know that you are way off. The idea itself isn’t one that will sell. Or your writing needs a lot of work, or both. You might not be destined to be a published writer. (Though that doesn’t mean you shouldn’t still write.) If you get some feedback in amongst the rejections, that means you or this book have potential. Listen to the feedback, even if you hate it. If someone’s spent the time to tell you what they think, they won’t waste that time on telling you something untrue, even if subjective. Some agents may even ask you to send them your next one.

Every writer has a different publishing story. Some of the authors I’ve worked with over the years were lucky enough to write a first novel, do a few edits, find an agent and get published. Others wrote and submitted more than ten novels before they found an agent, and would say they were the better for it. Some were spotted through a competition, others on the slush pile, others through sheer happenstance. But the throughline of all their stories is this: an inability to stop writing, no matter what happened, and a welcoming attitude to feedback.

One final note. I think that the reason so many people come to freelancers like me — people who’ve worked in the industry — is that they want an extra guarantee: an extra level of reassurance that their book is good enough. And I can definitely tell them whether they have a decent chance. But nobody can ever give you a guarantee. There is no absolute seal of approval. I published many novels I thought were ‘the one’ that turned out to be received with mediocre acclaim and sales. Recognise what is holding you back, and what you are scared of. To be a writer is to live within uncertainty. Be bold, be proactive, be brave.

Photo by Benjamin Wedemeyer on Unsplash