If you’re serious about your writing career, self-editing is not optional — it’s crucial. As a developmental editor, I enjoy working with writers who come prepared. When a manuscript arrives already polished at the sentence level, we can concentrate on what truly matters: structure, character arcs, pacing, emotional resonance, and the deeper layers of storytelling. Self-editing demonstrates respect for your craft and your editor.

In today’s digital world, information spreads faster than it can be verified. Social media posts go viral in minutes. Headlines are designed to attract clicks. AI-generated content floods search engines. Amid all this, writers, editors, and readers struggle to determine what’s truly accurate. Fact-checking is no longer optional. It is foundational. Whether you’re publishing a blog post, submitting an academic paper, drafting a newsletter, or preparing long-form content, your credibility relies on your dedication to accuracy.

Behind every smooth editing experience is a system doing a lot of quiet work. Writers often invest months—or years—of effort before sending a manuscript to an editor. That level of trust deserves more than just good instincts and sticky notes. It calls for clear organization, dependable tracking, and a process that keeps projects moving smoothly without confusion or missing details.

One common question writers ask is whether they should follow a specific plot formula to make their story “work.” Beat sheets, story circles, and three-act breakdowns are everywhere—and while they can be helpful tools, they’re often misunderstood. Plot structure and plot formula are not the same. Confusing them can make stories seem predictable, flat, or oddly lifeless—even when all the “right” beats are there.

Writers are frequently asked to define their writing process as if there are only two valid approaches: "pantser" or "plotter." Do you meticulously outline your work, or do you prefer to discover the story as you write? Do you dedicate time to write every morning at dawn, or do you grab moments to write whenever you can? From an editor’s perspective, these questions are helpful—but only to a degree.

Many aspiring writers hesitate to start—or finish—a book because they believe they’re missing some essential qualification. A degree. A credential. A stamp of approval. Something that grants permission to call themselves a writer. From an editor’s perspective, this question comes up far more often than it should. Not because it’s foolish—but because it’s based on a misunderstanding of how books are actually written, evaluated, and published.

Exploring different viewpoints through characters is one of the most powerful tools a writer has. When done well, it adds depth, complexity, and emotional resonance. When done poorly, it breaks apart the story, confuses readers, and saps narrative momentum. From an editor’s outlook, viewpoint issues are rarely about the number of perspectives a story includes. They’re about why those perspectives are there—and whether the story truly needs them.

Writer burnout is often talked about in terms of productivity: missed deadlines, stalled drafts, unfinished projects. But one of its most harmful effects is rarely named explicitly—burnout quietly changes narrative voice. Writers often notice that something feels off in their work but can’t quite explain why. The writing still works. The story still moves forward. However, the story feels more dull, less polished, or strangely distant.

Few things slow down a draft faster than a placeholder name that never gets replaced. You know the ones—Guy, Girl, MC, or even worse, Bob2. Character names seem simple, but choosing the right one can secretly influence how readers see a character before they even speak. If you’ve ever looked at a blank page wondering what to name your protagonist, you’re not alone.

Writer’s block has a reputation for being mysterious, dramatic, and unavoidable. For many writers, it feels like hitting an invisible wall—one that shows up without warning and refuses to move no matter how long you stare at the page. But from an editorial perspective, writer’s block is seldom about a lack of talent or discipline. More often, it’s a symptom…

One of the most common questions writers ask—often with equal parts curiosity and dread—is: "How much research do I actually need to do for my book?” The short answer? Enough to support the story you’re telling.The longer—and more important—answer is that research only helps if you can keep it organized and usable. Whether you’re writing fantasy, science fiction, historical fiction, or contemporary work, research can quickly turn into scattered notes, countless browser tabs, and half-remembered facts that never quite make it into the story.

Emotional payoff is one of the most challenging aspects of storytelling—and one of the easiest for readers to recognize when it doesn't work. A scene can be dramatic. It can be intense. It can even be beautifully written. And yet, it can still fall flat. Why?Because emotional payoff doesn’t come from what happens. It comes from what has been…

If you’ve ever opened an edited manuscript and felt your stomach drop at the number of comments in the margins, you’re not alone. For many writers, editorial questions seem overwhelming—or worse, like evidence that the manuscript is basically flawed. In fact, the opposite is usually true. Editors ask questions because they pay attention. Editorial questions are among the most useful tools in the editing process.

If you’ve finished a draft—or even a partial one—and are thinking about professional feedback, you’ve probably heard of manuscript critique. For many writers, especially those early in revision, a critique can be a very helpful tool. For others, it can be frustrating if expectations don’t align with what the service actually delivers. Understanding what a manuscript critique can…

One of the biggest fears writers face when submitting their work to an editor isn’t cost, timing, or even revisions—it’s emotional fallout. Will the feedback feel harsh? Will it tear the story apart? Will it make them want to give up on the project altogether? Good editors recognize this fear. But they also understand something equally important: kindness without honesty doesn’t help a manuscript improve…

If you’re a new writer, you probably hear some version of this advice: “Just write.” While enthusiasm and momentum are important, disorganization is one of the main reasons new novels stall, spiral, or collapse halfway through. A new approach to organization isn’t about strict rules or stifling creativity; it’s about building a structure that encourages your imagination instead of blocking it…

Few phrases strike fear into a writer’s heart more quickly than an editor saying, “This isn’t ready yet.” It can feel vague, dismissive, or even personal—especially after you’ve revised endlessly, cleaned up the prose, and fixed every typo you could find. But when editors use this phrase, they’re not referring to commas or sentence polish. They’re addressing something much deeper.

When writers ask what makes one editor different from another, the answer often comes down to how an editor reads. My English degree didn’t just teach me how to correct grammar; it trained me to analyze structure, intention, voice, and meaning on a deep level. That foundation influences every edit I do, from developmental feedback to line-level refinement. Reading Like a Writer—and a Scholar…

Submitting a manuscript can feel like standing on the edge of a cliff—exciting, terrifying, and full of “what ifs.” Writers often see editors as gatekeepers armed with red pens and impossible standards. In reality, most editors want the same thing you do: a compelling story with clear potential. But there are a few things editors wish writers understood before hitting submit.

How to Keep Readers Hooked When Nothing Is Exploding Many writers think tension requires constant action—sword fights, chases, explosions, or magical battles every few pages. But some of the most compelling scenes in fantasy and science fiction have very little physical movement at all. Tension is not action.Tension is anticipation. When writers depend too much on action to drive a story, …

Fantasy is one of the most popular—and most challenging—genres in fiction. Readers expect wonder, immersion, and emotional rewards. However, fantasy also has one of the highest DNF (Did Not Finish) rates across genres. Why do readers give up on fantasy books halfway through—or even within the first few chapters? And more importantly, how can writers steer clear of the most common pitfalls?

Receiving editorial notes can feel overwhelming—even for experienced writers. You open the document expecting a few tweaks, only to find pages of comments, tracked changes, and questions that seem to challenge everything you thought was working. If your first reaction is panic, frustration, or the urge to close the file and walk away, you’re not alone. As a developmental editor…

Slow pacing is often misunderstood in storytelling. Writers are encouraged to “let the story breathe,” focusing on nuance, atmosphere, and emotional depth. However, when readers lose interest, the feedback quickly shifts from slow burn to feeling like nothing is happening. So what’s the actual difference between a slow burn and a stalled story? As a developmental editor—especially in fantasy and speculative fiction—I often see this distinction trip up writers.

If your story feels flat, predictable, or emotionally distant, the problem might not be your prose, pacing, or even your protagonist. It could be your antagonist. As a developmental editor, I frequently encounter this problem—especially in fantasy and science fiction. Writers spend months refining worldbuilding, polishing dialogue, and developing character arcs, yet something still isn’t working. The tension never quite hits the mark.

Most writers don’t need someone to tell them where to place a comma. They need help understanding why a scene isn’t working, where the story loses momentum, or how a character arc quietly derails halfway through the book. That’s why I focus on developmental editing—and why it’s the most impactful stage a manuscript can go through. Developmental Editing Is Where Stories Are Made (or Broken)