Copyediting
… because this is where the magic happens!
Let’s Talk
You: “I have all the basic concepts and the bulk of the content, but the draft just is not coming together like I’d hoped. I’ve gone over it 100 times. I’m not sure what else to do…”
Me: “I’ve been there; it can be frustrating. Editing your own work is extremely difficult because it’s so tough to be objective. We can all use a good editor. Editors check for organization of content, the overall flow of a piece, story arc, consistency of voice, readability and clarity of language. We’re also really good at honing in on those key places to “beef up” in a piece and those to cut that don’t add to your work in a meaningful way. But don’t worry, Ink Well’s recommendations are just that — you’ll always make the final decisions.”
Why I Need It
Because first drafts of anything usually stink. And that’s ok; in fact, that’s perfectly normal. Writing is a process of discovery, and you don’t always produce your best stuff when you first get started.
Revision literally means to “see again,” to look at something from a fresh, critical perspective. It is an ongoing process of rethinking the written work: reconsidering your arguments, reviewing your evidence, refining your purpose, reorganizing your presentation, reviving stale prose. (1)
Studies have shown again and again that the best way to learn to write is to rewrite. In the revision process, you improve your reading skills and your analytical skills. You learn to challenge your own ideas, thus deepening and strengthening your argument. You learn to find the weaknesses in your writing. You may even discover patterns of error or habits of organization that are undermining your papers. Though revising takes time and energy, it also helps you to become a more efficient writer down the road. If, for example, you have discovered through the revision process that you tend to bury your topic sentences in the middle of your paragraphs, you can take this discovery with you as you draft your next written work. You are less likely to make that particular mistake again. (2)
If you’d like to understand more about scoping, estimates, the copy editing process, and client relationships, check out my blog posts called Shrek on Copyediting and the Triangle Dance.
Show Me
Scared of this…?
Don’t worry, Ink Well works in track changes. Track changes make life simple and are easy to “accept” or “reject.” Comments on specific text help the writer understand what the editor is thinking.
https://www.rubinwriting.net/new-page-1
https://jeriwb.com/track-changes-comments-word-55770/
Revision Example - Moon Walk, 1969 (3)
In 1969, E. B. White wrote a one-paragraph comment on the first moon walk. White took the comment through six drafts. Below are the third and sixth drafts. In Draft 6, White gets right to the point. He states the problem he's addressing—"the moon is a poor place for flags"—in his third sentence. In Draft 3, he does not suggest this until the sentence that begins "Yet," and never directly. He also cut his introductory device, the beach trip. The amount of space he devotes to it in draft 3 suggests that White was attached to this example. But it prevents him from getting to the point. So he substitutes the bouncy dance, which preserves the playfulness of the trip to the beach but is more economical. Draft 6 is much more concise and much more engaging. This is the beauty of revising.
Draft 3:
Planning a trip to the moon differs in no essential respect from planning a trip to the beach. You have to decide what to take along, what to leave behind. Should the thermos jug go? The child's rubber horse? The dill pickles? These are the sometimes fateful decisions on which the success or failure of the whole outing turns. Something goes along that spoils everything because it is always in the way; something gets left behind that is desperately needed for comfort or for safety. The men who drew up the moon list for the astronauts planned long and hard and well. (Should the vacuum cleaner go, to suck up moondust?) Among the items they sent along, of course, was the little jointed flagpoles and the flag that could be stiffened to the breeze that did not blow. (It is traditional among explorers to plant the flag.) Yet the two men who stepped out on the surface of the moon were in a class by themselves and should have been equipped accordingly: they were of the new breed of men, those who had seen the earth whole. When, following instructions, they colored the moon red, white, and blue, they were fumbling with the past—or so it seemed to us, who watched, trembling with awe and admiration and pride. This moon plant was the last scene in the long book of nationalism, one that could have well been omitted. The moon still holds the key to madness, which is universal, still controls the tides that lap on shores everywhere, still guards lovers that kiss in every land under no banner but the sky. What a pity we couldn't have forsworn our little Iwo Jima scene and planted instead a banner acceptable to all—a simple white handkerchief, perhaps, symbol of the common cold, which, like the moon, affects us all!
Draft 6:
The moon, it turns out, is a great place for men. One-sixth gravity must be a lot of fun, and when Armstrong and Aldrin went into their bouncy little dance, like two happy children, it was a moment not only of triumph but of gaiety. The moon, on the other hand, is a poor place for flags. Ours looked stiff and awkward, trying to float on the breeze that does not blow. (There must be a lesson here somewhere.) It is traditional, of course, for explorers to plant the flag, but it struck us, as we watched with awe and admiration and pride, that our two fellows were universal men, not national men, and should have been equipped accordingly. Like every great river and every great sea, the moon belongs to none and belongs to all. It still holds the key to madness, still controls the tides that lap on shores everywhere, still guards the lovers that kiss in every land under no banner but the sky. What a pity that in our moment of triumph we did not forswear the familiar Iwo Jima scene and plant instead a device acceptable to all: a limp white handkerchief, perhaps, symbol of the common cold, which, like the moon, affect us all, unites us all!