Melissa Grant Writes

I was completely book blind at this point. I looked at it daily but couldn’t see it.

HALP!

So, with the aid of good old Google, I started looking for a developmental editor. I posted the job on a well-known website (don’t ask me, because I won’t tell), and I was made to feel like a preschooler writing in Pig Latin. Oh, you want MY credentials to pay YOU?

That’s cute.

Then I found ACES, the Society for Editing and the EFA, the Editorial Freelancers Association. For some reason, everyone I liked on ACES was busy, so I started combing the listings on the EFA website.

I chose three editors whose specialties seemed to line up with what I wanted and was writing, and I asked for sample edits from all three.

All three were more expensive than I had imagined.

The first was fine, but yeah, just fine. I didn’t feel inspired by it.

The second, who I thought I would love, was very pretentious and critical, her edit was riddled with misspellings.

Excuse me, WHAT?

High-and-mighty yet vaguely illiterate? There’s a combo for ya.

The third was great!

*Tiffiny.

And she had giant Schnoodles. And she said my work was already ‘polished!’ (Take that, you, Schmeedsy Snobs.) On those facts alone, I hired her.

I’m kidding, kind of.

The deciding factor for me was that she offered a manuscript critique, which she described as a ‘beta read on steroids.’ It included an hour-long Zoom call, and if I decided to move forward with a developmental edit, the cost of the critique would come off of that.

I sent it off in mid-February and waited…impatiently.

Meanwhile, we lost another elderly person, and my brain that works perfectly in overdrive kind of went a bit haywire.  I seem to function well in crisis and kind of go sideways when things calm down. I couldn’t write anything, not work work, not Cloudia.

Nothing.

I got the critique back in late March and loved it, but still wasn’t ready to work on it and had many life details to work through after my father-in-law’s death. So I opted for the larger developmental critique to buy myself some time.

I sent that off in April and got it back in early June. A book map, editorial letter and the manuscript with comments- lots and lots of comments.

425, to be exact.

F*ckity F*ck

The writing part was easy. I thought this would be easy too.

Maybe I AM a preschooler writing in Pig Latin.

I was in denial for about half a day, then something snapped into place, and I got to work.

Tiffiny had suggested I look at it in a certain order, so of course I did the exact opposite (I mean, you all know me by now, right?) I went through the letter and made the easy fixes, then did the same with the manuscript.

Then I went back and found the big stuff.

Oh.

My.

Gawd.

I’m going to be 105 by the time I finish this…

*Tiffiny Spire, The Pink Pen Editing . Don’t touch. She’s mine.