Five Levels of Editing: Which Do You Need?

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Editing is essential to producing quality writing

Often, potential clients reach out to me to ask what I would charge to do a copyedit on their manuscript. I will answer their question but I always refer them to the Services & Rates page of my website. I do this for two reasons. First, I want them to see that my quote is the published rate on my site and not a fee I’ve pulled out of thin air. But the second reason is a bit more surreptitious. I want these folks to read the definitions of each level of my editorial services. Why? Because some of those seeking a copyedit for their writing aren’t ready for a copyedit. Their manuscript is far too rough, maybe even just a first draft.

In this article, I have extracted the details from my Services & Rates page to let you see what I do at each level of editing. My definitions are a conglomeration of multiple editing service sources and the definitions used by the publishers I’ve worked for.

Developmental Edit

A developmental edit has many nicknames: a deep-dive edit, a macro edit, or a big-picture edit. Whatever you call it, this is an organizational edit. At this early editing stage, I look at the presentation of the material in the entire manuscript. I might move chapters around, as well as large chunks of text within a chapter. I suggest how to plug holes in the material. I will:

• make the chapter arrangement logical.

• give the text a cohesive flow.

• highlight jargon to be defined or eliminated.

• check to assure the tone and language are appropriate to the purpose and audience.

Substantive Edit

A manuscript that I can do a substantive edit on is in overall good shape, clearer and more coherent than one requiring a developmental edit. A substantive edit addresses the flow of ideas within a chapter or sections within a chapter, the clarity of the ideas and information, and the quality of the prose. I make sure:​

• the work has smooth transitions between chapters.

• we fill in missing content.

• the prose is clear and appropriate for the target audience.

• the prose uses an active voice and engages the reader.

Line Edit and Copyedit

[Note that every level of editing separates the type of work from the word edit. But, oh no, not copyedit. Editors fight over whether it’s one word or two. The Chicago Manual of Style likes copyedit as one word, so that’s what I go with.]

To my mind, it's hard to separate line edits and copyedits, so I lump the descriptions together. These are paragraph- and sentence-level edits, with proper grammar checking thrown in. I check the flow. I decide if every paragraph, every sentence, and every word is necessary. I make sure:​

• the text is clear, logical, and coherent.

• the structure is consistent throughout and easy to follow.

• the tone is appropriate to the material, audience, and purpose.

• spelling, grammar, and punctuation are consistent and correct.

• repetitious words are removed.

• awkward phrasing is rewritten.

• you've used active voice and you're showing not telling.

Proofreading

Note: to allow myself maximum time for coaching and editing, I only proofread manuscripts that I have first done a higher level of work on.

This is the end of the line to make the manuscript the best it can be. Technically, it's the final review, after the manuscript has been typeset. (Often, people ask me to proofread their manuscript, when what they really mean is copyedit. Mistakes happen during the typesetting process. A proofread is what catches those.) It’s a clean-up, looking for errors of any kind that happened during the typesetting process: checking one last time for PUGS (punctuation, word usage, grammar, syntax), any inconsistency of font style, weight, and size, problems with page layout, numbered charts, graphs, and images, and widows and orphans. (A widow is a paragraph-ending line that falls at the beginning of the following page or column, separated from the rest of the text. An orphan is a paragraph-opening line that appears by itself at the bottom of a page or column, separated from the rest of the text.)

“Which Level of Editing Do I Need?”

To answer this question, I ask writers to send me a sample of their work, maybe ten or twelve pages, which is sufficient for me to see the quality of the writing and the state of the work. I read with my levels of editing in mind, making notes and jotting down questions for the writers. I tell them what I see and suggest what needs to be done to make their manuscripts of the highest quality.

And, as you might imagine, we don’t always agree on how to proceed. Some insist on a copyedit, which is my cheapest level of service, even when the work obviously needs a higher level of editing. Be warned—I will not do a copyedit on a manuscript unless I agree it’s ready. A manuscript that is disorganized, incoherent, has holes in the information or story, lacks a clear point, uses vocabulary and language that is inappropriate to the intended audience, or doesn’t have an intended audience is not one I will invest time in as an editor.

If you feel your manuscript is finished, or you simply don’t know where to go from here, look at my definitions of editorial services and decide which one you think would best suit you at this point. Please reach out with questions or comments. I’d love to work with you.

In addition to working as a nonfiction and creative nonfiction editor and writing coach, I am co-author, with Dr. Terri Lyon, of the book Make a Difference with Mental Health Activism: No activism degree required—use your unique skills to change the world. Visit my website page Make a Difference and Dr. Lyon’s activism website Life At The Intersection to learn more about Make a Difference, including how to place bulk orders.

Write with Purpose Using Indexing

Edit, edit, edit your writing.

The woman whose memoir writing advice I most admire, Marion Roach Smith, recently discussed a technique for self-editing your writing that I love: indexing. Now, this is not the process of creating an alphabetical listing of important words and phrases and the pages you will find them on that appears in the back of an academic or instructional nonfiction book. No, the way Marion describes her form of indexing is this: to read each paragraph of your writing and make a little note or symbol next to it that tells you what the paragraph does, i.e., what purpose it serves in the manuscript.

Does this sound overwhelming to you? Or does it thoroughly confuse you? Or both?

I’m going to try to offer more insight on this technique, but be warned—this process is for those who really want to improve their writing by acknowledging whether each paragraph has a clear purpose. If you can stick it out through an entire manuscript, it will make your writing tight, precise, and far more enjoyable to read.

Most Common Writing Mistake

I edit a lot of manuscripts, some by accomplished authors, most by novice writers. But both groups often make the same mistakes, especially when they are trying to make a point—they overdescribe, overexplain and repeat, repeat, repeat. (See what I did there?) This is an issue with all forms of nonfiction I’ve worked with—political science, economics, business—but it is most often the case with memoir.

Because the memoirs I edit are nine out of ten times written by first-time writers, they want to make darn sure you understand their reason for writing the memoir: trauma, grief, redemption, new insight, physical or mental health challenges, and so on. So, they say the same thing, more or less, repeatedly throughout their writing. If your reader finds themselves thinking, “Yes, I know, I get it, you told me already!” too many times, they won’t bother to finish the book. Or recommend it.

Once you have made a point, assuming you’ve made it clearly, that’s great. Now more on. There is no need to bludgeon your reader with the same point in passage after passage.

Indexing—Analyze Purpose

As I said, if you really want to streamline your work, indexing is one way to do it. With good writing, every paragraph should perform a purpose. Here are the thirteen most important paragraph purposes, taken from an article by the Jackson School Writing Center at the University of Washington:

1. Stating: Making an assertion.

2. Supporting: Providing evidence for an assertion.

3. Concurring: Agreeing with another author's assertion.

4. Qualifying: Restricting the meaning of an assertion already made.

5. Negating: Offering reasoning or evidence to demonstrate the falsehood of an assertion.

6. Expanding: Stating more comprehensively an idea or assertion already expressed.

7. Analyzing: Breaking an assertion down into its constituent parts in order to clarify or evaluate it.

8. Describing: Naming one or more features of an object or concept, to help the reader imagine it precisely or understand it fully.

9. Comparing and contrasting: Examining objects alongside each other for the purpose of clarifying their features, evaluating them or noting differences and similarities.

10. Evaluating: Making judgment about something discussed previously

11. Synthesizing: Combining elements of previous paragraphs into a coherent whole; often this includes presenting a new perspective on the subject.

12. Summarizing: Restating the principal idea of an argument or point already introduced.

13. Transitioning: Moving from one aspect of the argument to another by connecting the points for the reader.

Wow, right? The point here is,

every paragraph you write should serve one of these purposes.

After a paragraph serves the #1 purpose (stating, making an assertion, e.g., the allure of underage alcohol drinking entices 20 percent of girls aged 12–13), you then move on to write paragraphs that serve one or more of the other purposes (e.g., supporting, concurring, or expanding). Yes, this can be an exhaustive and time-consuming process. If you have written a statement paragraph and you write another paragraph that simply repeats the statement, or if you can’t identify the paragraph as clearly serving any of the other twelve purposes, delete it or rewrite it to serve a clear purpose.

Is this process easy? It is not. Will it make you a better writer? Yes. Is it worth the time and effort? That is totally up to you.

Write with Purpose

WARNING: GRAPHIC CONTENT. Marion Roach Smith’s sister, published author Margaret Roach, calls a first draft the vomit draft. (I warned you!) That’s some harsh imagery. But the point is, of course, all first drafts stink, no matter who you are. Write, write, write. Get it all out. Throw in everything including the proverbial kitchen sink. But then, edit. Edit as furiously as you wrote, maybe more so. Keep two things in mind as you self-edit and rewrite: your purpose and your ideal reader. My business motto is Every word of every sentence matters. Please feel free to adopt it as your own!

In addition to working as a nonfiction and creative nonfiction editor and writing coach, I am co-author, with Dr. Terri Lyon, of the book Make a Difference with Mental Health Activism: No activism degree required—use your unique skills to change the world. Visit my website page Make a Difference and Dr. Lyon’s activism website Life At The Intersection to learn more about Make a Difference, including how to place bulk orders.

How Long Should a Memoir Be?

Is this your memoir?

How long should a memoir be?

That’s the million-dollar question. It must be. Someone asks a variation of it at least once a week in a Facebook memoir group I’m in. I hate to see this question; the only thing I hate more are the most common answers:

• As long as it needs to be.

• As many words as it takes.

• Long enough to tell your story.

I honestly believe these answers are not meant to be flippant; I think they’re meant as kind, encouraging advice. But these answers are not only unhelpful, they are misleading.

As a book editor who has chosen to specialize in memoir, I always try to interject guidance into the conversation by giving a specific word-count range that is in line with publishing industry standards. I often include a link to such information. Then, the disagreements start.

Poo industry standards, they might say (or something along those lines). No one should tell you how many words your own story should be. Well, that’s true if you do not intend to publish in any form ever or if you don’t care whether your memoir sells after it is published. If those two circumstances do not apply to you, read on.

What is the Recommended Length of a Memoir?

Like any subject, thanks to Google, you can find any answer to any question that suits your needs. When I asked the question “How long should a memoir be?” in a Google search, it produced more than 89,800,000 results. Are they all the same answer? Of course not. But if you go with the credible results—publishing houses, indie publishers, memoir authors, editor and writer associations, book coaches, and agents—a common answer emerges: approximately 80,000 words. Or as few as 60,000 and as many as 100,000. There are outliers, of course, like 40,000 to 140,000. But 60K to 100K is the acceptable range. I always tell people that about 80,000 words, give or take 10,000, is a good target.

In an utterly unscientific survey conducted by me over the course of about four minutes, I found that, remarkably, several fairly recent bestselling memoirs (all by politicians or celebrities of one kind or another) contained 352 pages. That must be some kind of magic industry number. In any event, at 250 words per page (another industry standard), that comes to 88,000 words. Now if, let’s just say, Will Smith can write an 88,000-word memoir, I think you and I should be able to.

Why Does an Acceptable Length Matter?

As I said earlier, you can write a 250,000-word memoir if you feel you need to. Some folks in that Facebook group have written that many and are still writing. You can produce a 10-pound tome if it brings you satisfaction or catharsis. But these are the questions to ask yourself if you intend to publish (self-, hybrid, or traditional):

Who will want to read this long memoir about me? (Spoiler alert: very few people.)

How much will it cost to self-publish? (Spoiler alert: a lot.)

How much will I need to charge for it to recoup my expenses and make a profit? (Spoiler alert: a whole lot.)

Will a hybrid or traditional publisher want it at this length? (Spoiler alert: no.)

But, let’s pretend. . . How much would it cost a hybrid publisher to print it and what will they need to charge for it to recoup their expenses and make a profit for them and me? (Spoiler alert: way, way too much.)

Working with a Publisher

I am a manuscript assessor for a hybrid publisher in Texas. I read nonfiction and creative nonfiction manuscripts and write detailed reports about their pros and cons, including whether the word count is too slight or too extensive for the topic and genre. If either is the case, I then recommend that an editor work with the author to either bulk up the material or cut text to bring the manuscript to within industry standards for the genre. If I were to read a memoir that is 150,000 words in length, I would recommend a substantive edit, in which an editor works with the author to narrow the focus of the memoir and delete material that is not relevant to the specified theme.

It doesn’t matter how perfect or brilliant each word is—that is not a length for a memoir that will be marketable. Period.

Memoir is NOT Autobiography

I can’t stand another discussion about the difference between memoir and autobiography without wanting to regurgitate. Please don’t present me with the Oxford English Dictionary definition of memoir. The dictionary definition is not how memoir is defined by twenty-first century publishers. If you want to write an autobiography—or a family history— feel free, but don’t call it a memoir. A publisher will not consider it a memoir. I quoted Marion Roach Smith in my May 2020 blog post “How to Choose a Memoir Theme":

A memoir is not about you. It’s about something and you are its illustration.

A memoir is a story about something you know after something you’ve been through.

Dear folks, that is the definition of memoir from a publishing point of view. A memoir is a story from a life, not the story of a life.

Don't Ramble: A Theme Will Keep You Focused

And as I’ve discussed in my blog several times, the best way—maybe the only way—to stay focused is to have a clearly defined theme. In my blog post “Writing Memoir: Avoid These Common Mistakes,” I chose this as Memoir Writing Mistake #1: Trying to cover too much. I know from working as a writing coach and as a memoir editor, if you just start writing a memoir without a theme, it’s like going on a cross-country trip without an itinerary or GPS.

What is a theme? It’s a one- or two-sentence answer to the question, “What is your memoir about?” Yes, one or two sentences. That’s it. To understand this better, read “How to Choose a Memoir Theme.”

In addition, you should know who you’re writing for and what you hope they will learn from reading your memoir. Again, if you can’t pinpoint your audience and the reason you are writing a memoir, you will meander and overwrite, which will make for an unsatisfying, pointless read.

Final Thoughts

Memoir is not the same as autobiography.

A memoir theme is a one- or two-sentence answer to the question, “What’s it about?”

Decide who your memoir audience is. Keep them in mind while you write.

What’s the takeaway? What will your readers have learned when they’ve finished your book?

Happy writing!