Kitty Johnson's Blog - Posts Tagged "editing"
Write the Big Scenes
I’m currently working on edits for my 2025 novel - it’s current title is Closest Kept, but since I very much doubt it will end up with this title, my 2025 novel is what I’ve come to think of it as.
I haven’t been asked to make any major changes - yay!! Okay, the third act needs more work, but mainly I’ve just been asked to dig deeper.
As a creative writing tutor, I often picked my students up on places in their stories where they’d omitted to write a big scene, skimming over it in a few reported sentences. You need to dramatise this, I’d tell them. (Many of my students on my mailing list are probably nodding their heads at this point. Either that, or smiling wryly.)
The places where they’d skipped over a big scene were always so obvious to me - there was their audience, in their seats, waiting to be caught up in their characters’ emotions. To have that prickly feeling on the back of their necks as their hairs stood on end. To grip the book tighter as they experienced empathy, horror, or absolute joy, and the writer hadn’t even opened the curtains on the scene, leaving the reader thinking, Oh, is that it?
Well, it turns out it’s easier to spot these places in someone else’s writing than your own, because last week I read this note from my editor:
So much we miss here - that feels too important to skip over to me.
And of course, she’s right.
That’s the wonderful thing about working with an editor you’re on the same wavelength as. Someone who really ‘gets’ your book and your characters. She can point things out, say a few words, and bing, there’s a chemical reaction inside your head and you know exactly what needs to be done.
I don’t know if other writers find this kind of collaboration daunting; whether it undermines their self-confidence. I suppose it’s possible they feel reluctant to let go of their autonomy. But for me, happily, it’s a very positive experience. I don’t feel as if I’ve been told what to do, just as if I’ve been given a packet of seeds to sew and cultivate exactly as I want.
So, prepare to grip the book tighter, buckle up, and put your scarf on ready for that chill on the back of your neck.
I’m diving in!
I haven’t been asked to make any major changes - yay!! Okay, the third act needs more work, but mainly I’ve just been asked to dig deeper.
As a creative writing tutor, I often picked my students up on places in their stories where they’d omitted to write a big scene, skimming over it in a few reported sentences. You need to dramatise this, I’d tell them. (Many of my students on my mailing list are probably nodding their heads at this point. Either that, or smiling wryly.)
The places where they’d skipped over a big scene were always so obvious to me - there was their audience, in their seats, waiting to be caught up in their characters’ emotions. To have that prickly feeling on the back of their necks as their hairs stood on end. To grip the book tighter as they experienced empathy, horror, or absolute joy, and the writer hadn’t even opened the curtains on the scene, leaving the reader thinking, Oh, is that it?
Well, it turns out it’s easier to spot these places in someone else’s writing than your own, because last week I read this note from my editor:
So much we miss here - that feels too important to skip over to me.
And of course, she’s right.
That’s the wonderful thing about working with an editor you’re on the same wavelength as. Someone who really ‘gets’ your book and your characters. She can point things out, say a few words, and bing, there’s a chemical reaction inside your head and you know exactly what needs to be done.
I don’t know if other writers find this kind of collaboration daunting; whether it undermines their self-confidence. I suppose it’s possible they feel reluctant to let go of their autonomy. But for me, happily, it’s a very positive experience. I don’t feel as if I’ve been told what to do, just as if I’ve been given a packet of seeds to sew and cultivate exactly as I want.
So, prepare to grip the book tighter, buckle up, and put your scarf on ready for that chill on the back of your neck.
I’m diving in!
Editing Caves and Meerkat Tendencies
It’s a sunny morning as I emerge, blinking and bewildered, from my editing cave.
Last time I posted, I think I may have told you I didn’t have much to do to my 2025 book. Ha! I lied. If not to you, then certainly to myself. My editor, Tiffany Yates Martin, consistently asked me to dig deeper in her notes on my manuscript, so for the past month that’s what I’ve done, submerging myself in my characters and their worlds, living their lives, seeing through their eyes. I’ve been vague and unfocused in ‘real life,’ forgetting to do things, staring blankly, popping up only now and then like a meerkat checking for trouble.
Now my edits are submitted, and I have a long, nerve-wracking week ahead waiting to see how they’re received. I hope Tiffany, and Alicia, my commissioning editor at Lake Union, like what I’ve done. I’m vulnerable because digging deeper requires you to dig deeper inside yourself. Like an actor, to think, when have I felt this way? To find ways to express those feelings that don’t involve too many dripping tears - show, don’t tell!
Digging deeper means doing your level best not to think about people you know reading your words after they’re published. Although fortunately neither of my two brothers - who have always delighted in making fun of me (in a loving way, you understand…) will ever read one of my novels, so that’s one embarrassment less. But there are the members of my book clubs, my women’s Institute groups, my ex students, the people who live in my street, etc, etc.
Oh well, it’s done now, and this morning all the words I’ve written are still spiraling around in my head and I’m really missing my characters. There’s always a void after I’ve finished working on something; a slight sadness when really I ought to be celebrating meeting a deadline, making something I hope and feel is gripping and moving.
Still, there was an effective distraction at the weekend when I went to a local hedgehog rescue centre with my partner for a photo shoot. A UK magazine is going to be running a feature close to the publication of Prickly Company about my volunteering work as a driver for Hodemedods Hedgehog Support and asked for photos. Jermy the rescue hedgehog - with a little encouragement from Katie, his carer - was happy to oblige. It was a rare sunny day, the blossom was out on the cherry tree and it matched my hair. It wasn’t difficult to smile, even though Jermy was the prickliest hedgehog I’ve ever held, hence the gardening gloves. Ouch!
Last time I posted, I think I may have told you I didn’t have much to do to my 2025 book. Ha! I lied. If not to you, then certainly to myself. My editor, Tiffany Yates Martin, consistently asked me to dig deeper in her notes on my manuscript, so for the past month that’s what I’ve done, submerging myself in my characters and their worlds, living their lives, seeing through their eyes. I’ve been vague and unfocused in ‘real life,’ forgetting to do things, staring blankly, popping up only now and then like a meerkat checking for trouble.
Now my edits are submitted, and I have a long, nerve-wracking week ahead waiting to see how they’re received. I hope Tiffany, and Alicia, my commissioning editor at Lake Union, like what I’ve done. I’m vulnerable because digging deeper requires you to dig deeper inside yourself. Like an actor, to think, when have I felt this way? To find ways to express those feelings that don’t involve too many dripping tears - show, don’t tell!
Digging deeper means doing your level best not to think about people you know reading your words after they’re published. Although fortunately neither of my two brothers - who have always delighted in making fun of me (in a loving way, you understand…) will ever read one of my novels, so that’s one embarrassment less. But there are the members of my book clubs, my women’s Institute groups, my ex students, the people who live in my street, etc, etc.
Oh well, it’s done now, and this morning all the words I’ve written are still spiraling around in my head and I’m really missing my characters. There’s always a void after I’ve finished working on something; a slight sadness when really I ought to be celebrating meeting a deadline, making something I hope and feel is gripping and moving.
Still, there was an effective distraction at the weekend when I went to a local hedgehog rescue centre with my partner for a photo shoot. A UK magazine is going to be running a feature close to the publication of Prickly Company about my volunteering work as a driver for Hodemedods Hedgehog Support and asked for photos. Jermy the rescue hedgehog - with a little encouragement from Katie, his carer - was happy to oblige. It was a rare sunny day, the blossom was out on the cherry tree and it matched my hair. It wasn’t difficult to smile, even though Jermy was the prickliest hedgehog I’ve ever held, hence the gardening gloves. Ouch!
Stop, Start
My favourite way to write fiction is to dive in and keep writing (or swimming) until I reach the end of a first draft. I don’t even stop if I come across something that needs some research - I just type research bla, bla, bla here and press on. That continuity, when you’re fully immersed in your story, is golden. The characters begin to speak to you. You can see the stepping stones ahead. You start to make connections and to see ways you can pull threads together.
Of course, the first draft is a total mess - something I didn’t realise that when I first typed the words THE END. A first draft is your raw material, to be shaped into something that looks like something, not to be sent joyously off into the world straight away the way I did back then. You can’t see what needs work at first - you’re too close to it. It’s vital to leave your words to brew, but it’s not easy to do this. I my opinion though, some distance is essential.
In all my years of writing, I’ve only ever submitted completed novels to editors. (Of course they still needed work - the editing process is lengthy, with many layers).
But this time around, with my current work in progress, that valuable period of continuity - of getting immersed in my draft day after day, and week after week, just hasn’t been possible. I’ve submitted a partial - which had to be very polished - and a synopsis, while much of the rest of the story doesn’t yet exist. I’ve also been doing developmental edits on my previous novel - Closest Kept - (out May 2025), and I’m shortly about to start copy edits. I’ve been busy with publicity activities for Prickly Company as well, including taking part in a panel - Behind Closed Doors - at the Primadonna Festival last weekend. This was a great experience - my sincere thanks to Winnie Li for her excellent interviewing skills, and to Bee Rowlatt, author of the excellent One Woman Crimewave, who appeared on the panel with me.
I may also have gone against my usual habit of putting aside research until later by making the most of the opportunity to perform stand-up comedy as part of the Make Primadonna Laugh event. Well, I like a challenge. It says so in my bio, so it must be true.
I’m definitely not complaining about all the different hats I’ve had to wear lately - it’s such a privileged position to be in, and I’m thrilled to be where I am today.
But characters, don’t think that just because I’ve been distracted I’ve forgotten all the trouble I’m going to get you into. The emotional roller coaster I’m going to make you all ride. It’s coming for you, sooner than you think.
Hold on tight!
Of course, the first draft is a total mess - something I didn’t realise that when I first typed the words THE END. A first draft is your raw material, to be shaped into something that looks like something, not to be sent joyously off into the world straight away the way I did back then. You can’t see what needs work at first - you’re too close to it. It’s vital to leave your words to brew, but it’s not easy to do this. I my opinion though, some distance is essential.
In all my years of writing, I’ve only ever submitted completed novels to editors. (Of course they still needed work - the editing process is lengthy, with many layers).
But this time around, with my current work in progress, that valuable period of continuity - of getting immersed in my draft day after day, and week after week, just hasn’t been possible. I’ve submitted a partial - which had to be very polished - and a synopsis, while much of the rest of the story doesn’t yet exist. I’ve also been doing developmental edits on my previous novel - Closest Kept - (out May 2025), and I’m shortly about to start copy edits. I’ve been busy with publicity activities for Prickly Company as well, including taking part in a panel - Behind Closed Doors - at the Primadonna Festival last weekend. This was a great experience - my sincere thanks to Winnie Li for her excellent interviewing skills, and to Bee Rowlatt, author of the excellent One Woman Crimewave, who appeared on the panel with me.
I may also have gone against my usual habit of putting aside research until later by making the most of the opportunity to perform stand-up comedy as part of the Make Primadonna Laugh event. Well, I like a challenge. It says so in my bio, so it must be true.
I’m definitely not complaining about all the different hats I’ve had to wear lately - it’s such a privileged position to be in, and I’m thrilled to be where I am today.
But characters, don’t think that just because I’ve been distracted I’ve forgotten all the trouble I’m going to get you into. The emotional roller coaster I’m going to make you all ride. It’s coming for you, sooner than you think.
Hold on tight!
