I first sat down to write a novel in the summer of 2010 shortly after quitting my job as a parking lot attendant to focus on becoming an author. I had no background in fiction writing, and couldn’t fully comprehend the audacity of writing a novel with such limited experience. The result was predictable and all too common—a manuscript that couldn’t get published and probably never should be. Looking back, I understand that I was a bit naive to think I could write a novel. But for all the disadvantages of being naive, there is one overwhelming benefit: the freedom of not knowing any better. It’s this freedom that allows us to try things and to learn from our failures.  

Now, almost fifteen years later, I’m currently working with two clients as a book coach. I’m working with another as a developmental editor. For another, I just completed a manuscript assessment. Someone else recently reached out to me asking if they could buy my editing services as a birthday present for their husband. And then there are all the manuscripts that I edit and finalize for publication with my company, History Through Fiction. As it turns out, my services as an editor are in high demand.  

My path from naive author-in-training to bonafide book editor has been filled with a variety of very hard lessons. Some of those lessons were brought upon me intentionally through education and training, such as my Master of Fine Arts program in creative writing. Other lessons were brought upon me unexpectedly through the process of writing and publishing and receiving both solicited and unsolicited feedback for my work. Those moments when I received feedback were often difficult to understand and process. But looking back on them now, each one provided me with valuable insight that has accumulated over time—all of it contributing to my ability to recognize and evaluate the elements of fiction in not just my own work, but in the work of others. 

While I have managed to acquire an understanding of how to utilize the craft elements of fiction to tell a story, my greatest asset as an editor is my experience as a writer and the empathy it has instilled within me. I know what it’s like to sit down and write a novel. I know what it’s like to put my work out there only to get rejected at every turn. I know what it’s like to receive the feedback of an editor, a mentor, a beta reader, a reviewer. I know what it’s like to receive both harsh and careless criticism, and constructive and gentle critiques. I know what it’s like to be naive enough to try.  

Learning the craft of storytelling is not an easy task. Often, it takes years to put together all the elements of research, and character, and plot, and setting, until you have a readable 85,000-word manuscript, let alone a publishable novel. As a writer, I understand the process along with the vulnerability of putting yourself out there; of opening yourself up to criticism. It’s that experience as a writer that, more than anything else, allows me to be an effective editor. I understand how important it is to meet every writer where they are at, no matter where they are in the process of learning to write.   

Every writer comes to me with their own set of skills, interests, and experience. Each of them has their own story behind the story they are trying to tell. As their editor, it’s not my job to judge their skill as a writer or lack thereof, it’s my job to help them make their story better. To do that, I have to rely on empathy. I must use my own experience to understand where they are at in the life-long process of learning to write, and assure them that they are on the right path. Once a writer understands that there is no endpoint, or Nirvana, or enlightenment; once they understand that they are always working toward something better, then they can put aside their passions, their doubts, their naivety, and just work to tell the story they wish to tell. That’s when craft becomes key and writers become authors.