The Art of Editing

Editing is an art. Don't believe me? Read these articles. You'll see.

Seeing what is there: How editing and art exhibitions are surprisingly alike

Two paintings with the same scene of sea and sky in distant and detailed view
At first glance, there might not seem to be much similarity between the practice of editing and the act of viewing an art exhibition, yet to my mind they are alike. Let me explain how.

When I visit an exhibition, my first impression is of the space I am in. I become aware of dimensions, distances, shapes and shades. I identify whether the art is painting, photography, sculpture, drawing or some other interesting form and I reflect on the way the works are displayed. Are they grouped in close clusters or are there generous stretches between each? I give myself time to feel what it is like to be in the exhibition until something specific draws my eye.

I’ll move towards that particular piece, noticing how it looks from across the room and how my sense of it changes as I approach. As before, I will begin by gaining an overall impression, taking in, for instance, the subject and scale. I may glance at the title or any notes appended alongside it, but by now the art has grasped my attention and I’m absorbed in my examination of it.

Smaller details will present themselves to me, like the harmony of colours or one small but striking sliver of the image. I’ll become conscious of how various elements of the composition echo and reflect each other, sometimes providing balance while at other times inciting tension. It all contributes to the effect of the piece.

Leaning in further, I’ll be drawn to explore distinct brushstrokes or textures. My gaze is now engaged and I am fascinated by what I can see in such close proximity. After a while, I’ll step back and regard the work again in its entirety. I may shift my position, choosing to view the art from a new angle. I’ll cross the floor and look it from a distance once more, only this time with an increased appreciation of how each tiny touch by the artist has created the eventual expression. By this time, I’m often smiling.

Surprisingly – or perhaps not – it is the same with editing.

When I’m gifted a new manuscript to work with, I begin by obtaining the same initial impression of scope and shape. I look into the form and content of the writing, as well as its mood and tone. As I read, I let the voice of the piece reach me and I find myself leaning towards it. The deeper I get into the text, the clearer my sense of its structure becomes. I can see how each section works and discern the purpose in every paragraph.

I consider individual sentences and words, noting marks of punctuation and even the spaces between symbols. I appraise the role that all of these play and the contribution they each make.

Throughout this process, as happens in a gallery, my perspective is constantly shifting. It moves from a close focus to take in the bigger picture before gliding back again to centre on a certain detail or to contemplate the overall flow. I am mindful always of the relationships between different elements of the text and how they blend together to generate the desired effect.

Again, by this stage, often I’m smiling. But I am also attentive, sliding into the writing itself, making deft alterations, settling any ruffles, always ensuring the words are accurate as well as artful.

It’s a delicate process, and a deliberate one too. In both cases, I find it delightful.

Whether my view is precise or expansive, and whether I’m absorbed by art or by words, it is all about seeing, appreciating and admiring what is in front of me.

Now it’s your turn…

How do you view art exhibitions? Are there any similarities between how you approach art and how you view other activities in your life?

The three things editors see (and why you need our expertise)

Writers of all kinds are often advised to have someone look at their work before they publish it, post it, submit it or otherwise share it. Such readers are typically colleagues or friends who can spot a missing word or fix a misplaced piece of punctuation.

For documents that really matter, however, it is best to engage a professional editor. Based on our expertise, there are three things that editors see which a more casual reviewer will not.

1. Editors see what is there
We read your words. Every one of them. More than once. We do this carefully, even scrupulously. We note the content of your document. We see its scope and shape. We observe its complexity and texture. We go further, discerning patterns and repetitions, recognising rhythms and inconsistencies.

We perceive the meaning you aim to convey and assess how well you have achieved this. We engage with your turn of phrase. We enjoy your use of metaphor but we are also attuned to your grammatical quirks. We detect those regular errors you make that can distract your reader and dent your expression. (Fortunately, we know exactly how to address those. It’s all part of our brilliance. Also our charm.)

Most of all, we see – and believe me, we appreciate – the effort and dedication you have put into your work. We see it and we respect it. That’s why we give your words the care they deserve.

Yet this is just the beginning.

2. Editors see is what is not there
It might be as simple as a subheading or as necessary as an explanation. Maybe it’s a definition that will make clear your use of a certain term, or a lively example to illustrate the point you are making. Perhaps your character needs a bit more backstory to reveal more clearly why she acts in the way she does. Or it could be that you need to be a little more generous with your commas, or include a few additional transition signals to guide your reader easily from one idea to the next.

Whatever is missing from your text and is diminishing the effectiveness your message, we will see.

We know good writing. We know how it works. We can tell if your words are behaving at their best and can identify what is lacking when they’re not. We know what to do to improve them.

But even that’s not all.

3. Editors see what could be there
This is where the magic happens. This is your editor’s gift.

It’s the ability to envision just how good, indeed how very much better your writing could be. It’s the belief that your words and your message are important enough to resound more meaningfully.

From our appraisal of what appears in your writing and what is absent from it, we know and can show you how to reach that level of excellence.

Sometimes the slightest adjustment is all that is required. Other times, our skill lies in finding the gem in the midst of the mess and holding it close while transforming the rest.

We can see what your words can achieve even when you can’t. And we are more than happy to show you.

These three kinds of insight set professional editors apart from all your other readers. They enable us to distinguish writing that is good enough from writing that truly shines. If your words matter, having them professionally edited does too. Want to see the difference?

Now it’s your turn…

Have you worked with a professional editor? What insight did that editor bring to your writing?

From a distance of 2.54cm

I heard an interesting phrase the other day and it’s been gliding around in my mind ever since. It was in a TED talk delivered by Elizabeth Gilbert. You know, the one who wrote Eat Pray Love.

As it happens, she wasn’t talking about eating, praying or loving. Rather, her topic was creativity, and in particular the correlation so often and so effortlessly made between artistry and anguish. She asked her audience if they were ok with the idea that creativity and suffering are inextricably linked. She invited them to consider that notion, even from an inch away.

Even from an inch away.

That’s the phrase I’ve been contemplating.

It is not that it’s an especially new idea. Nor is its expression in any way astonishing – although it’s true Liz Gilbert does have a lovely way of saying things. Nevertheless, for some reason it resonated with me and perhaps it will with you too.

An inch is not big. It’s 2.54 centimetres. Really not far at all. Even so, it can sometimes be difficult for us to shift even that small distance. And that’s a shame, because we all need to be able to view things anew.

The view of artists that Elizabeth Gilbert encouraged her listeners to examine, even from an inch away, is a troubling one. Yet implicit in her invitation lies a hint of liberation. For even the small distance of an inch affords space to observe and examine, to literally re-view a circumstance or situation, and thus to embrace a different outlook.

This potential exists in many areas of our lives. It applies to our writing too.

Sometimes the words we write are so precious to us, we see only how they glisten and not where they are flawed. Other times we wrestle so fiercely with forcing our ideas into language that we forget they need room to breathe.

In both cases, the ability to shift our perspective even a little is critical. Doing so may be as simple as setting your writing aside for a few days before revisiting and revising it. However, it can also be as demanding as questioning your topic, your writing process, your ability, and even your beliefs.

Editors and proofreaders intrinsically bring a professional distance to your text. It’s why we’re able to see what is vital in your writing and to smooth it so it flows. It’s how we spot the errors your brain persuades you are not there. (Also, we have superpowers. We’re handy that way.)

Whether the landscape you look upon is your own writing, a daily routine or some broader cultural assumption, it can be worthwhile trying to find even a small distance from which to reconsider it.

And if you’re struggling to shift your vision even an inch from your writing, you can always let me know.

Me and my superpowers are happy to help.

Now it’s your turn…

Do you have any techniques you use to help you shift your view? What have you observed about viewing your writing even from a small distance away?

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