This is the greatest story ever told, I thought to myself as I sent the first draft of my manuscript off to my editor. The best writing since Hemingway. Surely, she’ll fix a couple of typos, telling me that she is sorry, but her services are simply not needed because my writing is flawless.

Of course, it wasn’t.  

But the truth is, if you’re sending off your manuscript, not thinking that the editing feedback will be minimal and kind, you’re a better person than me.

A good editor fixes typos, grammatical errors, and inconsistencies. A great editor rips your manuscript apart, deletes one fourth of your copy, and questions character direction, dialogue, narrative, and pacing until it feels like you’ve been beaten senselessly.

Early in my career, I had a boss give me direction on handling employees in need of guidance. “Don’t sugarcoat it. Give it to them ruthlessly, and when you think they’ve finally had enough, tell them what they’re doing right, and pat them on the back before sending them on their way.”  He was on to something.

Editorial feedback is just that … feedback. As a writer, you can argue that the editor doesn’t get it, and brush off the critique as simply a difference of opinions. Or you can realize the editor’s sole job is to get the best out of you. To make you dig deeper, start over. Make you question and reevaluate every word, phrase and description.

Following is an excerpt from my own editor on the manuscript I’m currently working on…

You have the plot and structure down; you have done great work to begin mining the wonderful web of emotionality you’ve woven within that plot and between your cast of characters, and now, in revision, you’ll have the opportunity to dig even deeper to bring the true story into the light. And trust me—that’s the place where, as an author, you want to be.

And trust me, this editor was brutal. As I began writing the second draft, the edits initially felt overwhelming, but as I continued, I quickly found the rhythm of the direction, and my writing consumed me, everything in my life taking a backseat until I finished.

Do I think my revised manuscript is now the greatest writing since Hemmingway?

Of course, I do.