Let’s face it, few authors are happy when text is edited out. Though they might recognize the need to remove it, and therefore be happy with the overall result, leaving text out feels like some sort of waste — a betrayal even.
“But I spent time writing this!” you’re telling yourself. “How can I let it go?”
In the context of editing, “kill your darlings” is apt advice. It indicates that editing should be approached as objectively as possible. However, what you rarely hear is that text is immortal. You can remove it from a certain post, novel, or essay, but that doesn’t mean the text is lost forever.
Text you had to let go during an editing round still exists and it’s still available to you.
In this post I’ll share with you five ways in which you can reuse text that was edited out. Doing that has two major benefits: Not only do you get to use your text somewhere else, where it’s better-suited, but it also makes the editing process smoother. It’s much easier to let go of text if you know that it’s not really gone.
Never refuse to reuse, as they say!Continue reading
You finished writing a book. Awesome! You then went through the editing process and now you’re exploring your publishing options. At this point, you may be asking yourself, “Should I choose traditional or self publishing?”
Just to make sure we are all on the same page, let’s quickly define both publishing methods.
Traditional publishing refers to having your book published through a company (a publishing house) that deals with all aspects of the process, from preparing the book for publication to dealing with marketing and promotion.
On the other hand, self publishing is when you, the author, arrange everything, from formatting to marketing. You might still hire a freelancer—for instance, to design a cover—but you basically control the entire process.
Now, many people might think that the question “traditional or self publishing?” is not a true dilemma, for two reasons: Firstly, these people assume everyone should opt for traditional publishing because it’s just “better,” in some undefined way; secondly, because they assume that since publishing houses are so picky about accepting manuscripts, you’d be mad not to publish your book traditionally, if you have the chance.
However, it’s not quite that simple—few things in life are!Continue reading
Whether you’re published traditionally or independently, from the moment your work is publicly available, someone can review it. Reviewing is an integral part of publishing. And so is asking for a review.
If your work is available for sale online, having reviews can really make a difference in your sales. Think of it from the reader’s perspective: A book with hundreds of reviews is more likely to attract your attention than one with three or four reviews.
As a result, most authors—whose name isn’t Stephen King and who lack an army of marketers—try to find readers who would be kind enough to review their book. However, asking for a review isn’t a simple process; you can’t just ask for it the way you ask someone if they like chocolate (who wouldn’t, but I digress).Continue reading
The English language has hundreds of thousands of words, and learning how to pick the right one for the occasion is an art. Like every art form, word choice is also partly subjective, depending on the context, and overall often frustrating to “get right.”
Have you ever revisited your older texts, perhaps some early attempts from many years ago? Did you have a slightly odd, cringey feeling of barely recognizing yourself as the author? If so, I can relate! This feeling of perplexed embarrassment is partly caused by the different word choices made by your old self compared to your current one.
As inexperienced authors, our vocabulary is not very evolved—that’s certainly one aspect of it. In other … words, we might not be aware that there is a more accurate, more specific word for what we try to convey. As a young author, I saw no problem with using nice in every other sentence.
The issue, however, goes far beyond not knowing a certain word.Continue reading