Blog Layout

How to do a First Edit of your Book, Blog or Article

Maria Iliffe-Wood • Sep 28, 2020

When I wrote my first book, Coaching Presence, I was surprised when I realised that it wasn’t going to land on the page in a format that was ready to publish! I was naïve about it, and thank goodness I was! I might never have started had I known in advance what how much editing it would take, before I finalised the manuscript. 


I’d not spoken to anyone about writing a book, and over the first few days and weeks of writing it became obvious that my book was going to take more work than I had thought. I'd assumed that I would need to check for spelling and grammar mistakes but I soon realised that there was a lot more to it than that!


I didn’t have a formal process for editing, and it didn’t occur to me to ask for guidance, which may have saved me a lot of time and effort, so here are some things I learned in that first edit process. 


Create a structure


I realised that the first draft was a ‘brain dump’ of information. I wrote as and when things occurred to me, and they didn’t occur to me in an order that would make sense in a book. Once I had a body of work, I grouped it into topics and then created a structure to work to. Even now, I don’t write in a particular order as I trust the process. It wasn’t that I was doing anything wrong, it’s just how it works for me. 


Add more information


When I explained things, I would not include information that underpinned what I was saying. This is needed by the reader, so I had to add more about my thought processes to make it understandable.  


Remove repetition


I have a tendency to write something, then repeat it in different formats, saying the same thing using different words, then finding another way to say it again. Like I just did! I had to cut out the repetition. 


Write like you know what you’re talking about


After I drafted my first chapter, I sent it to my editor to check that I was on the right track. The feedback was that I didn’t sound confident. When I talk to people, I allow for the fact that I might be wrong in my thinking. In a book this would feel, to the reader, like the author is not trustworthy. I changed my style of writing to be more assured in what I was saying.  


Use beta-readers


I learned most of this through intuition and it was reinforced when I approached my beta-readers. (I didn’t know that was what they were called then!) It made sense to me to ask people who I respected and knew about the subject, to read what I’d written and give me constructive feedback. They asked me for clarification about certain aspects, let me know when they’d got confused or bored, and told me when they would have liked more information. 


Take out filler words


The manuscript went through many iterations before it was ready to hand over to the publisher. It was eighty thousand words when I submitted it and the publisher asked me to reduce it to seventy thousand.


I started by taking out filler words. You know, words like ‘you know’! Also words like ‘in order to’, ‘that’ ‘then’, ‘like’, ‘so’ and ‘also’. I removed other words that didn’t really add any value (like ‘really’). To my surprise, this removed the requisite ten thousand words. 


Decide when to stop


Some of the chapters had fourteen edits. The least number of edits for a chapter was seven, so you can see that I learned as I went along. That was seven years ago and I have learned more about the craft of writing and editing since then.


My book, that waits in the wings at the moment, has had five edits and needs another two at least. This article has had four edits. It could benefit from more, but enough is enough! No matter how many edits a piece of writing has had, more alterations can always be found, so I decide to stop. 


There is a lot more to the editing process but these few things stood me in good stead then, and are a starting point. 


Many people who have started to write their first book, or plan to, are like me when I wrote mine. The edit process is not something they have given any thought to. When they realise it they think it’s something to fear, only because they don’t know where to start. 


I now enjoy the edit process almost as much as writing the first draft. It improves the quality of my work and makes for a better experience for the reader. Once you understand more about it and have got over that first hurdle, you will find it’s something to welcome not dread.

 

Learn more about how to do a first edit


In October I will offer a short programme to familiarise you with the various types of editing available and to help you get started with doing a first edit of your own work. It will include other hints and tips of what to look for in your writing, individual feedback, and group discussions about why I’ve suggested the edits, so that delegates can learn from each other’s feedback. 


Find out more about how to edit your own writing here. The next programme starts on 3rd November at 4pm. 

Ageing

By Maria Iliffe-Wood • 30 Nov, 2022
I remember myself as a young woman. Unblemished skin, silk mahogany hair and a slender figure. I yearned for longer legs and would say there was a six-foot supermodel h idden, crouched and stuffed, in this diminutive form, and it wanted to be unleashed. I’m an old woman now, with the vagaries of an ageing body and multiple textures in my hair. Inside I’m a blessed spaciousness but nobody gets to see that. All they see is a cadaver of gelatinous pulp and wretched wrinkles that forge chasms across my chin, along with the tufts of dried grass that make their acquaintance with the soft down that has always existed there. Eyebrows that were once slight and refined, now charge their way towards my hairline. Tweezers that only had an outing once in a blue moon, now have a daily excursion in front of the ten times magnification mirror. Twenty-twenty vision got lost somewhere in the ether and can only be seen now with the benefit of hindsight. I turn my back to my gorgeous younger self, not wanting to abject myself to what I have lost. My eyes fix only on what lies ahead, even though time and space is short compared to that behind me. I console myself with the knowledge of how my younger life felt. Scared, scorned, scarified by my imaginings. I lived a life belied by the external visage. The outer skin, pure and faultless, the inside tormented. My mind, scourged by questions and demands, never allowed me to feel good enough. My mind, fearful and hesitant, never allowed me to step forward in confidence. My mind, a battle ground, a war that raged between two selves, never allowed me any compassion for my tortured soul. From that beleaguered mind, I was blind to the beauty of my physical form. Some days I pretend I’d give my hind teeth to look like I did again, but I’d not exchange it, not in a million years, for the exquisite tenderness I now harbour deep inside. Unless of course you can offer me a pair of longer legs.

A Writing Student Who Can't Write

By Maria Iliffe-Wood • 27 Jan, 2022
I’ve written a few times this week and still I haven’t done the exercise right. It’s harder than it sounds. The others made it look so easy. I start to go down the route of what’s wrong with me but I block that off before it takes hold. I could do a transformation line but that’s not the exercise. So I’ll keep going. I can’t go to class a second time with a weak piece. I’ve got a reputation to uphold. There’s a Jericho trumpet in the morass that swipes left, the scream aghast as Johnny be good begets temptation to raise an army and shut me down before I even get started. I should be used to this by now, but switching class has done something to me. It’s rattled a cage I’d forgotten was there. I try to push it to one side but I can feel it in the pit of my stomach, no matter what I tell myself. I want to quiet the noise, but I can taste it. I am so tempted to jump into the next exercise. But I need to keep going. My mind keeps throwing things at me. I need to ignore them. I tell myself to persevere. There’s an argument going on in my head. My ego wants me to use all my tricks so I can look good, but if I do that I won’t be teacher’s pet. I want to look good for my tutor and the other students. If I don’t do the exercise I won’t look good to anyone. Looking good won’t do me any favours. Yet it still pushes me to look good. Forget looking good. So I’ll write a load of crap and face the consequences. I can see this is more drivel. It’s been the same every day this week. It’s not worth taking anything to class. Well, if nothing else I’ve stuck to the exercise this time. I should’ve done the musicians class. I bet they’re having an easier time of it than I am. I’m nearly at the end of my two pages and it’s my last chance saloon for whistles and bells and elephant’s trumpets. I’ll waddle onto the gangplank, in my barbed wire pants, shove the weeks old bread into the mouth of the knotted talisman and fingers crossed, I hope to do or die. ************** If you like this blog please share on your favourite social media. :)

Ignored by Life

By Maria Iliffe-Wood • 15 Nov, 2021
I sit in this chair and look out the window. I hear the washing machine churn the laundry in the kitchen. I watch the leaves on the tree turn from green, to red, to orange, to brown, to grey and then fall off. I imagine they carpet the lawn with their tawny hues. I don’t see the ground. I make up half the story, to compensate for what I can’t see, from this chair. People walk outside. Up and down the street. I imagine them going to work, to school, to play, or to the theatre, or the cinema, to a football match or a round of golf. I sit in this chair and make up stories about them. Cars come and go. I imagine them arriving at their destination, breaking down on the motorway, crashing into a lamppost, being lambasted by a forty foot artic lorry. I imagine the passengers end up in a chair, much like this one. I wave at the postman as he passes by my window. He doesn’t stop. No gifts, or parcels, cards or letters from friends, or family, or the double glazing firm that wants to sell me a new set of windows. I want to ask him about his wife, his kids, his work, his life. I know nothing about him, nor him about me, other than I’m the woman who sits in the chair and looks out of the window. He doesn’t notice the look on my face when he passes by without a glance. Next door’s cat comes into the garden. I watch her wander around. She sniffs at the plants, eats the grass, poos in the gravel at the edge of the path. I’d love her to wander in and sit on my lap, while I sit in this chair. But like everyone else, she wanders by the open door, with ne’er a look. The washing machine stops. Someone will empty it later, when they arrive to clean me up, get me dressed, tidy up around me. “I can’t stop to chat.” The nurse will say. “I’ve got too much to do, too many people to get around to, too many others to care for.” Care. That’s what she calls it. No cup of tea. No gossip about the neighbours. No catch up with what’s going on in her life. I’d love to hear what else she’s up to. She knows what I do. I sit in this chair. 

Cast Iron Core

By Maria Iliffe-Wood • 09 Sep, 2021
I have fought long and hard for my self-worth. I will not give it up, not for nothing or no-one. Behind this guileless exterior lies a steel rod. I am not to be messed with. I will not lay down to take a mouthful of crud, swilled down with horse-shit and a big dollop of how’s your father. I will not be sniffed at, sneezed over, coughed on. I will not be spat on from a great height. This backbone of mine will not squelch, will not fold in on itself, will not curl into a foetal position in the face of exhorted attempts at my denigration. My dignity is rock solid. Arrows bounce off this impervious exterior. Nothing and no-one will get past the perimeter of my mind to cause untold damage inside. I know who I am. I am proud of who I am. I am who I am. I protect who I am. This protectress is the strongest part of me. The part that stands up to fight when the chips are down. The part that refuses to accept scattergun accusations. The part that surfaces once in a blue moon. The part I’ve always relied on, when I’m in a tight spot, with my back to the wall. It sports a Kevlar jacket, with Doc Martin boots, and a Boadicea shield, yet it has a pink fluffy boa around its collar. It won’t take any punches, nor does it hold any prisoners. All the best parts of me are rolled into this one, corralled into action, at my most strident. It’s the cast iron core of me. I will never give it up. ************************ This poem was conceived during the Wild Dark and Passionate, Level Seven of my writing classes with Jules Swales.

Secrets of a Back Street Barber Shop

By Maria Iliffe-Wood • 15 Jul, 2021
Two senior aides meet at a secret location, to plan how to put a positive spin on the recent breakdown of high profile talks between their respective government parties.

A Few More Years

By Maria Iliffe-Wood • 16 May, 2021
I’m fifty-nine next week. Dad died seven weeks after his fifty-ninth birthday. His dad died at  fifty-one. Did Dad wonder what he should do different in those next few weeks, or did he just flip it aside and pay it no mind and live his life as he normally did and let the chips fall where they may. Did he ask himself how he could make these last few weeks more precious? Did he decide to tell everyone he loved that he loved them or did he just trust that they knew that already? Did he go all out to be present to every moment of every day and notice the little things that matter like milk and sugar on his cornflakes family photos on top of the piano a roof over his head Jesus in his heart. Did he say to himself, or to God ‘Please let me have a few more years’ and did God answer and that’s why he lived to fifty-nine instead of fifty-one. What would happen if I pray the same prayer. Will I get a few more years? Image downloaded from canva.com

In Conversation with JB Hollows

By Maria Iliffe-Wood • 14 Apr, 2021
Jacqueline Hollows was the instigator of the book A Different Story. In this informal interview with Maria Iliffe-Wood, Jacqueline talks about how her interest in the 'business' of publishing a book led her to suggest the idea of publishing A Different Story, How Six Authors became Better Writers. You can read more of Jacqueline's writing and find out what else she's up to in the world on her website .

An Evening with the Authors

By Maria Iliffe-Wood • 06 Apr, 2021
The six contributing authors to A Different Story, read a piece from the book then answer questions about their writing process. Questions like: What was your process when you sat down to write these pieces? Are the stories true? How did you manage to remember so much detail? Jules Swales, the method writing teacher who designed the exercises and explained each one in the book also offers a perspective on her teaching of method writing and its impact. You can buy a copy of the book here , and all author royalties will go to Storybook Dads .

Published Author: The Big Question Mark Stamped on my Forehead

By Usha Mayani • 15 Feb, 2021
This is the full testimonial received from Usha Mayani contributing author to A Different Story.

Author Insights: Interview with Hansa Pankhania

By Maria Iliffe-Wood • 10 Feb, 2021
Hansa Pankhania is a mother, a grandmother and a wellbeing coach who can’t quite believe she has published seven books, and she has two more on the way. I loved this conversation with Hansa, especially when she talked about where the inspiration came from for each of her books. She has written business/ wellbeing books, a memoir and children’s books and for each one the idea of the book came in a different way. Hansa was an author who was overwhelmed with the idea of marketing when she published her first book, but she realised that you can’t get away from it. However, she learned with every book she published, and even though it’s not her favourite part of the process, it is something that she is now more comfortable with. Like all the authors I have talked to, she has her own gremlins and her way of dealing with them is to reach out to other people. Either her publishing team, her editors or the writing community. You can find out more about Hansa, and her work, on he r website , and although her books are available on Amazon, I recommend you buy your copies from the website as she has a special offers on there, and some free downloads.
More Posts
Share by: