Finding An Editor For A Novel Novels & Stories

"Some of the stories in this book have the same writing style and usage of some sets of words. I know for sure that those stories had been penned by the same person. Since you are the chief editor of this publication, can you arrange a meeting with the author?" "No." Lucy answered without batting an eye. She reasoned, "He's mostly a ghostwriter so he doesn't want to be named. He feared bothersome people like you the most." "What a bummer." The author rolled her eyes. Lucy said, "You know, you have a rather good pair of eyes for editing. You catching the writing style and choice of words of my ghostwriter is the proof of it. Why don't you just accept my offer and become my assistant editor?"

Her answer was a wide grin, the one with teeth and eyes crinkling. Introduction and casual talks passed back and forth while we waited for the food. Leen was a senior editor at the Ellen publishing company and apparently She loves my book and it helps that Kaleb haf put a good word for me which I reminded myself to thank him later. An hour later, I was very much satisfied with our talks. Leen had promised to find an editor for my work and scheduled for our next meeting. Meanwhile, I was supposed to pray that my work passes the review for publication which is the first step for my success.

He was coming back —] A piercing cry from Esme violently shook me from my writing haze. My head snapped up, eyes struggling to focus. I tore my gaze from the glowing laptop screen and stared at the desk clock. 5am. Goodness. I had done it again. I pushed my chair back, my body aching from being hunched over all night. I strutted downstairs groggily, each step feeling heavier than the last. I hadn't slept a wink, completely consumed by drafting my novel and skimming through the final edits. I had to get it right. My editor, Mark, was coming to see me today, and this meeting felt like my last chance.

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?"

Anonymous D. My name is Neil Swan, and I am the Senior Editor of MTH Publishing Corporation. I’m pleased to announce to you that the novel you submitted, “Drowned in the Sea of Flames,” has been given an exclusive contract. You can sign the contract I’ve included in this message. Thank you very much. Best regards, Neil Swan

If he did not present her with the proper historical background, Sophie would be left with a vacant air of bewilderment - the exact expression Jim had seen on his own editor's face a few months ago after Jim handed him a draft of the manuscript he was working on. "This manuscript claims what?" His editor had choked, setting down his wine glass and staring across his half-eaten power lunch. "You can't be serious." "Serious enough to have spent a year researching it." Prominent New York editor Winston Sullivan tugged nervously at his goatee. Sullivan no doubt had heard some wild book ideas in his illustrious career, but this one seemed to have left the man flabbergasted.