Should I Edit My Book Before Publishing

Gary Smailes | 4 February 2026

Why Editing Before Publishing Is Non‑Negotiable

If you’re asking whether you should edit before publishing, you’re already ahead of a lot of writers. Many people want to skip the part where the book gets cleaned up and strengthened, then act surprised when readers treat the book like a first draft.

Editing is not a luxury item you toss in if there’s room in the budget. Editing is the price of admission.

Reader trust is fragile, and you spend it fast

When readers open your book, they’re making a quiet agreement with you. They’ll give you their time and attention. You’ll give them a smooth ride.

Every avoidable problem breaks that agreement. Typos. Missing words. A character’s eye color changing mid-chapter. A nonfiction term used three different ways. A scene that repeats the same point twice because the writer fell in love with the wording.

None of those issues look huge on your screen. On a reader’s screen, they add up. They create friction, and friction kicks people out of the dream.

Here’s a quick test. Take a page from your draft and plant three mistakes in it. A misspelling, a repeated word, a punctuation slip. Now read it like you paid $14.99 for the ebook. You’ll feel the snag. You’ll start reading like a critic instead of a participant.

Readers do not want to work. They want to sink in. Editing is how you earn that sinking-in feeling.

The market expects a professional product, even if you’re doing this solo

Traditional publishing has layers of editorial hands. Self-publishing does not. The reader does not care.

This is the part newer authors often miss. You aren’t competing against other first-timers. You’re competing against books they already love. The romance reader who tears through three novels a week. The thriller reader who expects clean pacing and crisp prose. The business reader who wants a clear promise and a clean argument, with terms used the same way every time.

When your book looks unedited, readers don’t think, “What a brave beginner.” They think, “This feels sloppy,” and their brains make the next leap without asking permission: “If the writing is sloppy, maybe the thinking is sloppy too.”

If you want to charge money, you’re selling confidence. Editing is part of the packaging.

Reviews punish what readers notice, and readers notice what interrupts them

A glowing review rarely says, “The comma placement was consistent.” A bad review often says, “Typos everywhere.”

Why? Because clean editing disappears. It lets the story or argument take center stage. Bad editing shoves itself in front of the spotlight and starts waving.

And reviews are not only about ego. They’re about momentum.

A single one-star review that says “needs an editor” is sticky. Other readers see it and begin hunting for evidence. They find a stray error and think, “Yep.” Now you’ve lost them, and they haven’t reached your best chapter yet.

Also, readers often confuse different problems when they’re irritated. A few confusing sentences become “the plot made no sense.” A timeline slip becomes “the author didn’t plan this.” Clunky repetition becomes “boring.” Editing reduces the small irritations that grow into big accusations.

Word of mouth works the same way. People recommend books when they feel safe recommending them. A clean, well-edited book feels safe.

First impressions are gatekeeping, even when nobody admits it

In traditional publishing, agents and acquiring editors read fast. They’re not cruel, they’re busy. They have piles of submissions and limited hours.

So when they hit preventable issues early, they don’t think, “I’ll keep going and see if the author improves by chapter six.” They think, “This will take too much work,” and they move on.

In self-publishing, the gatekeeper is often a sample. Amazon’s “Look Inside.” The first ten percent on an ebook. The preview a reader downloads at midnight because the cover looked good and the blurb promised something tasty.

That sample is your audition. If page one is messy, readers assume page 200 is messier. They bounce before you’ve had a chance to win them.

Try this exercise if you want an honest answer about readiness. Open your book to the first five pages and read them out loud. Not silently. Out loud, like you’re recording an audiobook and you get paid per finished hour. You’ll hear every stumble. Every overlong sentence. Every missing beat in dialogue. Every moment where your brain tries to patch the meaning because the text didn’t do the job.

Those five pages are doing more sales work than your social media ever will.

The blunt truth, delivered kindly

You only get to be new once, but readers don’t grade on a curve. They buy a book, not your potential.

Editing is how you respect the reader’s time, protect your reputation, and give your story or message the best chance to land. The good news is that editing is learnable. The bad news is that skipping it doesn’t save you pain, it reschedules the pain for later, when it costs more and happens in public.

What “Editing” Actually Means (And Which Stages You Need)

Writers say “I need an editor” the way people say “I need to get in shape.” Fair. Also useless.

Editing is not one thing. Editing is a sequence of different jobs, done in a sensible order. If you hire the wrong type at the wrong time, you either waste money or end up with a cleaner version of the same broken book.

Let’s put names on the stages so you know what you’re buying, and what problem each stage solves.

Developmental editing: the book works, or it doesn’t

Developmental editing is about the bones. Structure. Shape. Cause and effect. Whether the reader understands what you’re doing and cares enough to follow.

For fiction, a developmental editor looks at things like:

• Does the plot move, or does it stall for chapters at a time?
• Do scenes change something, or do they sit there and chat?
• Are character choices believable, or do they happen because you need a twist?
• Is the tension rising, or does it reset every chapter like a goldfish?

For nonfiction, the questions shift:

• Is the promise of the book clear, and do you deliver on it?
• Does the argument build, or does it loop?
• Do chapters earn their place, or are they blog posts taped together?
• Are examples doing work, or are they padding?

A developmental edit often comes with an editorial letter, a chapter-by-chapter breakdown, and big notes in the manuscript. The editor is not fixing your commas. They’re pointing at the load-bearing walls and saying, “This one is crooked.”

A quick self-check: if feedback from beta readers sounds like “I got lost,” “I got bored,” “I didn’t buy the ending,” or “I don’t see the point,” you’re in developmental territory. No amount of grammar polish fixes a story with no engine.

Mini-exercise: write a one-sentence purpose for every chapter or scene. If you struggle, or if the sentence sounds like “we learn more about X,” you’ve found the soft spots. Chapters should do something. Force a decision. Reveal a problem. Change the plan. Prove a claim.

Line editing: how the book sounds in the reader’s head

Line editing is sentence-level work, but not nitpicky grammar work. This is where voice, clarity, and rhythm get tuned. The goal is simple: the reader should glide.

A line editor focuses on:

• muddy sentences that make readers reread
• repetition, including repeated sentence shapes
• dialogue that sounds like a script read-through
• paragraphs that wander before they land a point
• tone problems, like accidental snark or unintended stiffness

Line editing is also where a good editor protects your style. If your prose has bite, they keep the bite and remove the gristle. If you write plainly, they keep it plain and stop it from turning dull.

Here’s a small example.

Before:

She started to walk over to the door and then she paused for a moment, feeling like she wasn’t sure if she should open it.

After:

She walked to the door. She paused, hand on the knob.

Same moment. Fewer words. More control. Less fog.

A quick self-check: if readers say “I like the story, but the writing feels clunky,” “I kept tripping over sentences,” or “I wanted to skim,” you probably need line editing.

Mini-exercise: take one chapter and underline every place you used a “filler start,” like “She began to,” “He started to,” “There was,” “I felt,” “She noticed.” Then rewrite half the sentences without the warm-up. Your prose will tighten fast, and you’ll learn what line editors do all day.

Copyediting: correctness, consistency, and the details you stopped seeing

Copyediting is where you earn reader trust the unglamorous way. Grammar, punctuation, spelling, usage, and consistency. Also the quiet errors that make readers doubt you.

A copyeditor checks:

• grammatical errors and punctuation problems
• spelling choices and hyphenation consistency
• character names, place names, and continuity
• timeline logic, ages, dates, seasons, travel time
• internal consistency in nonfiction terms and claims
• adherence to a style guide

This is also where a style sheet gets built. Think of it as the book’s rulebook. How you spell a name. Whether you use “email” or “e-mail.” Whether numbers under ten are spelled out. What you call a particular concept, every time.

Writers often underestimate how much copyediting is about consistency, not “being good at grammar.” A reader will forgive a rare typo. They won’t forgive the sense that the book is careless.

A quick self-check: if your manuscript is structurally sound and reads smoothly, but you worry about correctness, continuity, and looking professional, copyediting is your stage.

Mini-exercise: search your manuscript for a few common troublemakers: “towards/toward,” “okay/ok,” “between/among,” “which/that,” and your main character’s name. If you find multiple versions, you need a system. Copyediting provides one.

Proofreading: the last pass after layout, when new errors sneak in

Proofreading happens after the book is formatted for print or ebook. Not before. After.

Why? Because formatting introduces new problems. Words get dropped in conversion. Page breaks create widows and orphans. Chapter headings drift. Italics vanish. A line repeats. A hyperlink breaks. A quote mark flips direction.

A proofreader is the final pair of clean eyes on the version readers will buy. They’re hunting:

• typos and missing words
• layout issues and spacing errors
• incorrect page numbers in the table of contents
• formatting inconsistencies in headings, scene breaks, lists
• glitches introduced during ebook conversion

If you proofread too early, you pay twice. You’ll revise, reformat, then need another proof anyway.

Mini-exercise: once your book is formatted, read it on the device your readers will use. Ebook on a phone. Paperback as a printed proof. You will spot problems you never see in a Word document.

The practical takeaway: editing is a pipeline, not a menu

Here’s the order that saves time and money:

1. Developmental edit (if needed)
2. Revision
3. Line edit
4. Copyedit
5. Format
6. Proofread

Skip stages and you create expensive rework later. Copyediting a draft you’re going to rewrite is like painting a house before the plumbing is finished. Proofreading before formatting is like checking a map before the roads are built.

If you take nothing else from this section, take this: match the edit to the problem. Then do the stages in order. Your book, your wallet, and your readers will thank you.

How to Decide the Right Level of Editing for Your Manuscript

You do not need “an edit.” You need the right edit for the draft you have.

Most bad editing decisions come from panic. You finish a draft, you spot a few ugly sentences, and you assume the fix is a copyedit. Or you read a friend’s clean, crisp prose and decide your book needs a line editor, when the real issue is your middle sags like a tired mattress.

So let’s diagnose the manuscript like a professional, not like a sleep deprived writer with a deadline and a credit card.

Diagnose your draft honestly

Start with feedback. Not your feelings. Not the glow of finishing. Feedback.

If you have beta readers, look for patterns. One person’s opinion is mood. Three people saying the same thing is a problem you own.

Here’s how to read the tea leaves.

When you need developmental editing

Beta readers tell you things like:

• “I was confused about what the main character wanted.”
• “The first half flew, then I stalled.”
• “I didn’t care if she won or lost.”
• “The ending felt rushed.”
• “I kept forgetting why this mattered.”

Those are not sentence problems. Those are architecture problems.

A developmental editor steps in when the book’s big pieces are not working together. Pacing, structure, stakes, character arc, chapter order, argument logic in nonfiction. The stuff readers feel even when they cannot name it.

Quick test you can run today:

1. Write a one sentence summary of every chapter or scene.
2. Next to each one, write what changes by the end. A decision. A new obstacle. A consequence. A new piece of proof in nonfiction.
3. If you have several chapters where nothing changes, you have a structural issue. A copyedit will polish the nothing.

Another useful test: tell a friend the story out loud in five minutes. Where do you stumble? Where do you skip? Where do you say, “There’s this part in the middle…” and your voice drops. That is your developmental hotspot.

When you need line editing

Beta readers say:

• “I liked it, but I kept losing the thread in paragraphs.”
• “Some pages felt slow even when things were happening.”
• “The dialogue felt stiff.”
• “The writing repeated itself.”
• “I wanted to skim.”

This is the level where the story works but the reading experience feels bumpy. Line editing deals with clarity, flow, voice, paragraph shape, sentence rhythm, and repetition.

One sign you need line editing: you have strong scenes, but the pages feel heavy. Another sign: you tend to explain after you show, or you write three sentences where one would do.

Try this mini exercise on a chapter you think is “fine”:

• Highlight every sentence that starts with a soft opener, like “There was,” “She felt,” “He began to,” “In order to.”
• Now rewrite half of those sentences by putting the real action in the subject and verb.

Example:

Before:

She felt nervous as she walked down the hallway.

After:

She walked down the hallway, heart ticking too fast.

Same meaning. Clearer movement. More pull.

Line editing is where an editor helps you keep your voice while removing the drag. If you fear an editor will “rewrite you,” this is where you choose carefully and ask for a sample edit.

When you need copyediting

Beta readers say:

• “I noticed a lot of typos.”
• “Is her name spelled two ways?”
• “Wait, wasn’t Tuesday yesterday in the last chapter?”
• “You used ‘towards’ and ‘toward’ both.”
• “You called this concept three different things.”

If the book reads well but looks messy, you need copyediting. Copyediting is correctness and consistency. Grammar, punctuation, spelling, continuity, timeline sanity, and internal rules.

Here’s a clean way to self-check before you hire a copyeditor:

• Search your manuscript for your main character’s name and scan for variants.
• Search for a few pet words you overuse.
• Search for double spaces, missing spaces after periods, and inconsistent quotation marks if you changed software or pasted from notes.
• Make a list of “rules” you broke, like whether you write “email” or “e-mail,” “okay” or “OK.”

If that list gets long, copyediting is the right spend.

One warning, from someone who has watched writers spend money in the wrong order for two decades: copyediting does not fix a book readers find confusing or slow. It fixes a book readers already want to keep reading.

Match editing to your publishing route

Your publishing path changes what you need, and when you need it.

If you’re querying agents or submitting to publishers

You want the manuscript to look professional, because agents and acquiring editors do not read in a forgiving mood. They read fast. They read tired. They read with three other manuscripts open in tabs.

You do not need perfection. You do need control.

What “control” looks like:

• A first chapter with clear stakes and forward motion.
• A structure that does not wobble in the middle.
• Clean enough prose that nothing pulls attention away from story.

For many writers, the best investment before querying is developmental help or a strong critique, followed by a careful self-edit. If the draft is solid, a light copyedit helps. If the draft is not solid, pouring money into commas is a sad hobby.

If you’re self-publishing

You are the publishing house. There is no safety net.

Readers will not grade you on a curve because you are indie. They will compare you to the last good book they read, which was likely professionally edited. And your book’s “Look Inside” sample is your audition.

So self-publishing usually demands more editing, not less. At minimum, budget for copyediting and proofreading. If you have any doubts about structure or pacing, solve those first, because bad reviews about “boring” or “confusing” hurt longer than a few typos.

Also, self-publishing moves fast. Speed is fun until you rush the wrong stage. If you are trying to publish on a tight timeline, do fewer things, not the wrong things.

Consider genre and reader tolerance

Different readers forgive different sins. They should not have to, but they do, and you need to know what your audience will punish.

Fast-paced genres punish pacing dips

Thriller, romance, cozy mystery, many types of fantasy, they run on momentum. Readers want forward motion. They want scenes that end with a reason to turn the page.

If your beta readers say, “I put it down and didn’t pick it up,” you are not dealing with a typo issue. You are dealing with pacing, stakes, and scene purpose. Developmental editing, sometimes line editing, is where you win those battles.

A simple pacing check: look at your chapter endings. How many end on a beat that forces a question? A decision, a reveal, a problem. If most of your chapters end on reflection, you have likely written pauses where the genre expects propulsion.

Nonfiction readers punish unclear logic and sloppy terms

Nonfiction readers are patient with a calm tone. They are not patient with fuzzy thinking.

If your chapters do not deliver on the promise, if your terms shift, if your examples do not prove your claims, readers leave. They also leave reviews.

Nonfiction often needs developmental attention earlier than fiction writers expect. Not because the writing is “bad,” but because the structure and argument need to carry weight. After that, line editing tightens clarity, then copyediting locks down consistency in terminology, citations, and style.

A quick decision guide you can use without overthinking

Ask three questions:

1. Do readers feel lost, bored, or unconvinced? If yes, start with developmental work.
2. Do readers understand the story or argument, but stumble on the writing? If yes, line editing.
3. Do readers stay engaged, but notice errors and inconsistencies? If yes, copyediting.

If you do not have beta readers yet, get them. Five honest readers will save you from buying the wrong edit. Give them a short checklist. Where did you get confused? Where did you skim? Where did you feel pulled out?

Then listen for the chorus, not the solo.

A Practical Pre‑Publishing Editing Workflow You Can Follow

If you want a clean, confident book, you need a sequence. Not a frenzy.

Most writers do the opposite. They finish a draft, spot a typo on page one, and start fixing commas like the ship is sinking. Then they rewrite chapter six and break everything they “fixed” in chapters one to five. Fun times.

A workable workflow keeps you from paying twice and keeps you from polishing pages you will later delete. Here’s the order I’ve watched succeed, over and over, for both fiction and nonfiction.

Self-edit first, so you stop bleeding money

Professional editing is worth paying for. Paying an editor to wade through avoidable clutter is not.

Your job before you hire anyone is to remove the obvious issues and get the manuscript stable. Stable means you are no longer moving whole chapters around every weekend.

1) The structure pass: big moves only

This pass is about shape. You are not fixing sentences. You are checking whether each chapter earns its place.

For fiction, label every scene with three quick notes:

• Goal: What does the character want in this scene, right now?
• Conflict: What blocks them, pressures them, or complicates the goal?
• Change: What shifts by the end? New information, a decision, a cost, a consequence.

If you have scenes with no clear goal, no meaningful pressure, and no change, you have a pacing leak. The scene may still be well written. It still needs to go, merge, or be rebuilt.

A blunt test I give writers: if you cut the scene, does the story still make sense? If yes, the scene is not doing enough work.

For nonfiction, use: promise, proof, payoff.

• Promise: What question does the chapter answer, or what problem does it solve?
• Proof: What supports your point? Research, examples, case studies, steps, lived experience, clear reasoning.
• Payoff: What does the reader do, think, or understand by the end? A takeaway, a tool, a decision.

If a chapter promises clarity and delivers a tour of your opinions, readers feel cheated. Tighten the promise or strengthen the proof.

A simple tool: make a one page table of contents outline where each chapter gets one sentence. If you cannot state the purpose of chapter nine in one sentence, the reader will feel that fog too.

2) The clarity pass: make the writing behave

Now you go line by line, but with a purpose. You are removing friction.

Start with three common issues.

Cut filler. If a sentence starts with throat-clearing, cut it.

• “In order to” often becomes “to.”
• “There is/there are” often disappears once you name the subject.
• “She started to” often becomes the action itself.

Tighten sentences. Look for spots where the point arrives late. Move the point forward. Readers should not have to wait for your meaning.

Example:

Before:

The thing about Marcus was that he didn’t trust anyone.

After:

Marcus didn’t trust anyone.

Same idea. Less drag.

Remove repetition. Writers repeat for comfort. Readers call it padding. If you explain an idea in dialogue, then restate it in narration, pick one.

A practical method: pick one chapter, search for your five most-used words in that chapter, and rewrite half the sentences where those words show up. You will hear your habits fast.

Strengthen verbs. Weak verbs often hide weak decisions.

Before:

She was in the kitchen and she was looking at the letter.

After:

She stood in the kitchen and read the letter.

Cleaner. Clearer. Less mush.

Do this pass before you send the book to anyone. You want feedback on the book, not on avoidable sludge.

3) Create a style sheet: your book’s rulebook

A style sheet sounds fussy. It is a lifesaver.

A style sheet is a running list of decisions so you stay consistent and your editor does not waste time guessing.

Include:

• Character names, nicknames, spellings
• Place names, invented terms, magic systems, tech terms
• Timeline notes, ages, dates, day of week logic if relevant
• Capitalization rules unique to your world or brand
• Preferred spellings and usage, like “email” vs “e-mail,” “toward” vs “towards”
• For nonfiction, key terms and your chosen definitions

Keep it simple. A plain document works. Update it as you revise. When you later hire a copyeditor, hand them the style sheet. You will save time and prevent “fixes” you do not want.

Use feedback in layers, so you get the right kind of help

You do not need twenty opinions. You need the right readers at the right time.

Beta readers: reader experience first

Beta readers are for big-picture response. They tell you where they got bored, confused, or emotionally checked out.

Give them guidance. Otherwise you get vague feedback like “I liked it.”

Send them questions such as:

• Where did you feel tempted to skim?
• Where did you feel confused about what was happening or why?
• Which character did you care about least, and why?
• What felt implausible, inconsistent, or unearned?
• Where did you stop reading, even for a day?

Then look for overlap. If four people flag the same chapter, you do not need to defend it. You need to revise it.

One more rule: do not argue with beta readers. You are collecting data, not winning a debate.

Sensitivity and subject-matter readers: accuracy and representation

If your book touches lived experiences outside your own, or technical areas where mistakes will stand out, bring in the right readers.

Sensitivity readers help you avoid harm, lazy assumptions, and avoidable misrepresentation. Subject-matter readers help you avoid errors that make informed readers lose trust.

These reads work best after your structure is stable. No one wants to check facts in a chapter you later cut.

Time your rounds correctly, so you stop paying twice

Here is the clean order.

1. Developmental edit (or developmental-level feedback)
2. Revisions (often more than one pass)
3. Line edit or copyedit (sometimes combined, depending on the editor and the draft)
4. Formatting and layout (ebook and print)
5. Proofreading (after formatting, always)

That last part matters. Proofreading is not “another copyedit.” Proofreading is the final check on the formatted files. Formatting introduces fresh errors. Missing words from reflow, weird spacing, widows and orphans, broken italics, inconsistent headers. Proofreading catches the damage.

And here’s the trap I see most: writers pay for proofreading, then do a major rewrite. They pay again. If you are still making structural changes, you are not ready for proofreading.

A useful rule: once you book a proofreader, you should be done with anything bigger than a small wording fix. No new scenes. No new sections. No “I rewrote the ending over the weekend.”

Save your proofreader from your impulses. Save your budget too.

If you follow this workflow, editing stops feeling like a dark art and starts feeling like project management. Which, honestly, is what publishing is most days. The magic is in the work you do before anyone else sees the pages.

Budgeting, Hiring Editors, and Common Pitfalls to Avoid

Money talk makes writers twitchy. I get it. You want your book edited. You also want to eat.

The trick is to spend with intention, not panic. Editing is not a single purchase. It’s a set of decisions. Make the right ones and you end up with a book readers trust. Make the wrong ones and you pay for a clean sentence on top of a broken chapter.

Budget smartly, or you’ll pay for the wrong fix

Here’s the hard truth: copyediting does not repair a story. Copyediting repairs the surface of a story.

If your draft has recurring craft issues, the wise spend is usually earlier in the process.

Spend more on developmental or line work when:

• Beta readers say they felt lost, bored, or detached from the main character.
• You keep rewriting the first third because “something’s off.”
• The middle sags, the ending feels rushed, or your argument wanders.
• Your dialogue sounds stiff, your voice shifts chapter to chapter, or your paragraphs feel lumpy.

In those cases, paying for copyediting first is like paying someone to alphabetize a junk drawer. The drawer still won’t close.

Spend on copyediting when:

• The structure holds.
• The scenes or chapters land.
• You’re no longer making big changes.
• Your main need is correctness, consistency, and cleanup.

And if you’re self-publishing, plan for at least two stages:

1. Copyedit
2. Proofread after formatting

People skip proofreading to save money. Then they upload files with spacing glitches, missing words, stray headers, and chapter titles in the wrong font. Readers notice. Reviewers notice faster.

A practical way to plan your budget without guessing

Do a quick manuscript triage. Pick three sections:

• One early chapter
• One middle chapter
• One late chapter

Read them in order, out loud if you can stand it. While you read, mark only two things:

• Where you feel confused or bored
• Where the writing trips you up

If confusion and boredom show up, you’re looking at developmental issues. If the story holds but the prose trips you, line work rises on the list. If you mainly spot grammar, consistency, and small errors, copyediting and proofreading may be enough.

This is not scientific. It is honest. Honest gets you farther than hope.

Hire editors like a publishing professional, not a desperate genius

Writers sometimes hire an editor the way people hire a contractor after a pipe bursts. First person to pick up the phone wins.

Slow down. You’re hiring someone to touch every page of your book. You want fit, clarity, and boundaries.

Ask for a sample edit, and know what you’re looking at

A sample edit does two things:

• Shows you the editor’s approach
• Shows the editor what they’re dealing with

Send a representative excerpt. Not the cleanest page you’ve ever written. Not the roughest. Pick something average, with dialogue if you write fiction, or a section with your typical structure if you write nonfiction.

When you review the sample, look for:

• Do you understand their comments?
• Do their changes improve clarity without sanding off your voice?
• Do they explain recurring problems, or only fix them silently?
• Do they overreach, rewriting you into someone else?

A good editor leaves you feeling seen and challenged, not erased.

Check genre experience, because conventions matter

Genre experience isn’t snobbery. It’s competence.

A romance editor knows reader expectations for pacing, emotional beats, and point of view control. A thriller editor knows where momentum dies. A nonfiction editor knows how to manage claims, structure, and reader trust.

Ask what they’ve edited recently. Ask what genres they work in most. If they dodge the question, that’s information.

Confirm scope, so neither of you is surprised

Writers and editors fall out over scope. Prevent it with a plain-language agreement.

Before you book the job, confirm:

• What type of edit is this, developmental, line, copy, proof?
• How many passes are included?
• Will you receive an editorial letter?
• Will you get tracked changes in the manuscript?
• Will the editor create or update a style sheet?
• Is there a follow-up call or Q&A period?
• What is the timeline, and what do they need from you to hit it?

You are not being difficult. You are being professional.

Align on deliverables, so you know what you’re paying for

Editing deliverables vary. Two copyeditors can charge similar rates and give you totally different experiences.

Here’s what common deliverables look like in the real world:

• Editorial letter: Big-picture notes, priorities, patterns, next steps. Common in developmental edits.
• Tracked changes: Direct edits in the document. Common in line and copyediting.
• Comments: Explanations, questions, alternatives, recurring rules you keep breaking.
• Style sheet: A consistency guide for spelling, names, capitalization, hyphenation, and story facts.
• Second pass: A follow-up review after you accept or reject changes, sometimes included, sometimes paid separately.

If you want teaching plus editing, say so. If you want minimal comments and clean pages, say so. Editors are not mind readers. Neither are writers, despite what we like to think.

Common pitfalls that sink quality

These mistakes show up in my inbox with depressing regularity. Avoid them and you leapfrog a lot of pain.

Pitfall 1: Relying on software tools as your editor

Spellcheck and grammar tools help. They also miss context, voice, and meaning. They will flag a correct choice and ignore a wrong one. They will “fix” your dialogue into something no human would say.

Use tools for a first sweep. Then let a human handle the book.

If you want a simple rule: software catches typos. Humans catch reading.

Pitfall 2: Thinking copyediting will fix structural trouble

This one is expensive.

If your plot has holes, if your argument jumps steps, if your character arc vanishes for 80 pages, copyediting will make those problems easier to read. Readers will still notice them. They might notice them more, because now nothing else distracts them.

If you suspect structural issues, pay for a manuscript assessment or developmental edit first. Even a lighter, cheaper diagnostic read can save you from polishing the wrong draft.

Pitfall 3: Skipping proofreading after formatting

Formatting changes text. Ebooks reflow. Print layouts introduce page breaks, orphan lines, and strange spacing. Headings pick up wrong styles. A table breaks. Italics vanish. A chapter title duplicates itself. It happens.

Proofreading is the final quality check on the formatted file, not on your Word document. If you skip it, you are gambling your book’s first impression on a process known for producing fresh errors.

If money is tight, reduce scope instead of cutting the proofread. Proofread the front matter, the first three chapters, the last three chapters, and any section with lists, tables, or heavy formatting. Not ideal, but far better than nothing.

One last piece of advice from the trenches

Do not hire the cheapest editor you can find and expect a miracle. Do not hire the most expensive editor you can find and assume you’re safe.

Hire the editor who understands your book, your readers, and the kind of help you need. Get the scope in writing. Keep your manuscript stable before you pay for cleanup. Then publish knowing you didn’t leave preventable mess on the page.

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