Editorial Notes = clarifying information, additional insight, annotations

Hiya Reader,

I'm late to the party here (so many books! so little time!) but Virginia Evans' lovely novel The Correspondent is one of the best books I've read this year. It reminded me a bit of an older book in which an entire relationship plays out in the back and forth letters between the two characters who start out as strangers and become much more than that. It had something to do with a marble. Anyone remember this one and can help a girl out?

It also made me sad that no one writes letters anymore! I saw wax seal materials at a stationery store and really wanted a set...maybe I'll try to revive the practice in my own life.

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Example of the Week

Sometimes this is a good example—or a great one. Sometimes this is a bad example—or just a funny blooper. Sometimes a combination. You never know.

One of the tics I see in weak prose happens when a writer will tell us something is not happening instead of keeping the focus on showing what is.

For example:

The coffee wasn't hot anymore.

vs.

The coffee had gone cold.

Or

She tried to hide her disappointment.

vs.

She forced a smile and said, " That's fine."

Or

He barely controlled his fury.

vs.

He gritted his teeth and willed his fists to uncurl.

Your quick takeaway is to make sure you give readers a concrete detail so they can experience the moment along with your characters.

Actionable Tip of the Week

A trick to add to your self-editing toolbox right now!

Psychologists tell us that it takes at least 21 days of consistency before an action starts to become a habit.

Becoming a better self editor takes real work. There's no shortcut to follow (believe me, if I knew one, I'd tell you!) and the messy middle can be messier than a group of monkeys locked in a china shop with a vat of finger paints. It's challenging to recognize when your scenes aren't pulling their weight or when you've used too many words to say something clearly. We need to practice. We need to fail on the way to success.

Learning this skill is the art AND the science of good writing.

Wordiness is one of the most common issues, and recognizing what to prune isn't automatic. First you'll start noticing the verys and reallys. Then the in order tos and there ares. The more you prune, the more dead wood you'll see. Eventually, your sentences will come out much more sharp and clear at the outset, giving you less to cut and more time to finesse into pleasing shapes. This takes time and attention. No one size fits all answer exists, because every writer is different.

But interestingly, that's why self-editing is a skill, and like any skill, we can always improve our work. Yes, parts of the skill become habit, but other parts simply reflect your growing competence as you revise. Good instincts develop from consistent attention to the reality of your sentences.

Actively engage with your craft. That will mean experimentation, which is fun! And noticing techniques in what you read from other writers, which is a delight! And seeing your writing improve, which is beyond gratifying!

Reader Question of the Week

Dorothy wrote: How can I add more interiority to my memoir? Can you define interiority?

Dorothy! Sounds like you've gotten some manuscript feedback without enough clarification, which is such a frustratingly common experience. You're right to make sure you understand exactly what you're being asked for prior to just plunging in and making changes!

Interiority is what we might call the internal landscape in a memoir, the combination of the thoughts and feelings you-as-character experience within the narrative. It also means the way you interpret and make meaning of the events you relate.

Cheryl Strayed's Wild could have been a very straightforward account of hiking the Pacific Crest Trail, but she shares so much information about her grief and self-destructive choices — that's the interiority. Joan Didion's The Year of Magical Thinking might have been an account of hospitals and the like, but she shares examples of her irrational thinking that show readers exactly what the experience was like for her in microscopically specific detail. Tara Westover's Educated shares her confusion and shame at college over her ignorance of recent history rather than just saying her education wasn't very robust.

In short, the interiority is an equivalent of being open and honest about what the experience was really like for you.

Since I don't know precisely where your particular memoir might need more interiority, I would just suggest you ask yourself questions in terms of what's on the page. Have you shared specific emotions and described what the experience felt like, or have you just written what happened? Have you used sensory language and specific details, or have you stuck with more familiar, possibly clichéd language? Are you rushing through moments of high emotion or stress? Maybe slowing the pace in such scenes will make the difference.

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Link of the Week

​A reader sent this to me (thanks, Allie!) and it's too good not to share. Why do we call them a "pair" of pants?​

I ❤️ Hearing from You!

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Thanks for reading!

~Helene, your writing sherpa

P.S. Sad but True: 95% of Manuscripts Get Rejected Immediately

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