Editor For A Book Novels & Stories

He looked at the Editor, his eyes burning with a dark, Northern cold. "My wife is a very thorough proofreader," Kaelen said, his voice returning with the force of a landslide. The Editor stood up, his face blurring even faster in his rage. "A footnote? You dare add a footnote to my Masterwork? I will shred the entire chapter!" He raised the giant pen like a harpoon, but before he could strike, the 'white space' around us began to fill with text. It wasn't the Editor's writing. It was small, messy, and golden.

"I don't think I'm going to be able to make myself open my computer for the rest of the day. I'll only have a few hours before the boys get home, anyway." "What do you do?" It felt so much better that I had an answer to that question now. "I'm a freelance editor. I do editing for several online magazines and publishing houses whenever they need it." "Really? Do you do, like, novels, and things?" "Sometimes. I do more articles, sometimes small publishing and short stories, anthologies, things like that. This week I've been doing instruction booklets for a Norwegian small appliance company trying to break into English markets."

"Everything about this book comes from me." "Yes," Yetunde said. "I know." --- The editing process was, despite the vulnerability, something she found unexpectedly satisfying. Yetunde had assigned her an editor named Damilola — a woman in her mid-thirties with the particular kind of intelligence that operated through very precise questions rather than declarations. Damilola did not tell her what the book needed. She asked questions that led Adaeze to understand what the book needed herself. It was, Adaeze had thought, sitting in the study after their first call with her notes spread in front of her, like therapy that produced a manuscript.

a voice said. I spun around. Standing a few feet away was a man sitting at a desk that looked like it was made of light. He was typing on a keyboard that didn't have any keys, just patterns of moving dust. He looked like an office worker, boring and plain, but his eyes were bright, moving screens. "I am the Editor," he said. He didn't look up from his work. "You have caused quite a mess in the last few versions, Hazel. The Publisher was not happy. The Architect was even worse. Do you have any idea how much time it takes to fix a broken storyline?"

And then thanks for not getting upset at all when I changed the spelling of Ratcliffe to Radcliffe in my book because I’m such a Harry Potter fan! The Editor Stephanie Parent Best editor ever. Enough said! Proofreaders Judy’s Proofreading Shelley at 2 Booklovers Reviews Melinda Lazar I’m so jealous of your eagle eyes. Thank you for catching what no one else did. Viner Inspirations Danny Gonzales (And Alaina for clueing me into the Vine Universe…because I was clueless before she told me about it) Bloggers

Hi everyone and thank you for reading my book, it really has been an interesting write. I also really appreciate the feedback and I am still working with my editor to make some changes here and there. I would just like to say to those of you that are annoyed by Rudina's most recent actions, you were supposed to be :)

I took it and sipped it a little bit. My eyes landed on the book that he's holding. He's reading my book? I turned to him completely shocked for a few seconds and I turned my attention to my coffee again. "You said you love reading right?" He asked. "I'm an editor, how can I not read?" I hissed coldly. "I recommend you to read this book. I bet you will change your mind about your perspective of men." He said as he put my own book in front of me. "I'm not interested." I said.

"Were you able to finish reading the manuscript I gave you yesterday?" Aurora asked as they entered the room. "Here it is. I have marked the places I think need improvement and correction but only with your approval. I believe this to be a good time for me to learn how to successfully edit a book. Arabella did not need an external person or force to teach her how to properly edit. She had built those skills by herself. When others played she buried her nose inside novels and then she graduated to self-help books. She was in the newspaper and journalist association all through high school and college.

"You know, I am one already. I just haven't published the book yet. I believe, it's not well-edited and still has lots of things to add to it." "I can find you an editor if you want. They can help you proofread it and adjust it carefully before it can be published. Or, don't tell me you're scared of publishing your book." He widened his eyes as he pointed his index finger at me. "I wouldn't lie, I am. I don't know if people are going to like the book. Even though I enjoyed writing, this will be the first time I will write a whole book. I'm scared, what if, it's too long and they lose interest at the end? Or, what if they don't Ike how I write the book? What if, it's too boring for them?." Tr

What had come next had taken fifteen years to arrive. Don read the letter again. He saw, in the editor's words, something he had not anticipated. The editor had not simply been a professional facilitator of the books' publication. She had been a reader. Not a reader like the general audience — a reader inside the argument in a way that only the person closest to the making could be. She had read every draft of every book. She had written comments in the margins. She had called him when a section was not working and had said: "The argument is not here yet, but it is approaching." She had been the first reader of everything he had written for fifteen years.