Reviewing a friend's writing

[blatherskite]

All editing requires a certain measure of diplomacy, but when a friend asks for help, the task becomes even trickier. Fortunately, most of the standard advice for any edit still applies:

Clearly establish what it is that you do, and make sure that's what your friend wants you to do. That is, discuss their goals for the edit and reach consensus on what you're being asked to do. Most people who aren't professional writers don't really get what an editor does for a living, and managing expectations reduces the risk they might take impersonal comments personally.

Consider the option of doing an overall developmental or substantive edit first (to get the difficult tasks out of the way), followed by a copyedit once the basic content and structure are in place. Higher-level edits tend to take the form of a discussion or dialogue, which is less stressful than the one-way, imperative, "do this" of grammatical edits. Copyediting can feel a lot like the death of a thousand cuts, but if you've established trust right from the start with a lighter and more constructive high-level edit, the heavier (thus, seemingly more critical) edits seem easier to swallow.

Clearly distinguish between objective errors (grammar) and subjective errors (style). You may not like an author's style, but that's very different from needing to fix a style that is unintentionally unclear, vague, pretentious, or otherwise awkward. Note my inclusion of the word unintentionally: non-fiction editors, in particular, sometimes need to be reminded that in fiction, the character (rather than the author) may be the unclear, vague, pretentious, or awkward person.

Agree on the things you can do without tracking your changes (e.g., spelling corrections, formatting, standard cleanup). Nothing scares an author or undermines their self-confidence as much as seeing a sea of red ink for the first time. For things that are recurring problems, consider asking for permission to make a global change without tracking it. Alternatively, make a suggestion only once instead of once per instance, and let the author hunt down and fix the many instances that require fixing. Reducing the red ink makes the result seem less intimidating.

Make sure you understand what your friend really wants. If a client hires you, then you have at least some confidence that they really want to be edited. A friend may want reassurance or affirmation more than actual editing, in which case your goal may be to provide emotional support more than an actual edit.

Try to mix some positive words with the criticisms so that the message is not all bad -- which it may be if your friend isn't a pro. A professional writer may be happy to see only critical comments that require changes; they know that anything you didn't change is either acceptable or good. In contrast, an amateur or neophyte will take unrelenting criticism harder than someone who is accustomed to it.

Edit your comments rigorously to ensure that you're addressing the problem, not the author. The more egregious the error, the more important it is to share what you really want to say with an empty room, then rephrase the comment more tactfully.

Particularly for fiction, phrase your comments as questions and paraphrases rather than imperative statements: "I interpret this to mean [explanation 1]. If you're trying for [explanation 2], try it this way [new wording] instead."

Preserve the author's words wherever possible. You may have a better way to say something, but if the original wording is acceptable, go with it.

Let some of the little things go. Whereas it's tempting to perfect the hell out of a manuscript for someone who's not a friend and who's paying by the hour, you may need to focus on fixing only the really important things for a friend.

Before you return the manuscript, reassure your friend that "it's really not as bad as it looks; I always edit that heavily." The more insecure your friend is as a writer, the more helpful this will be.

Conclude with some positive thoughts, particularly if the manuscript required heavy editing. Remember that this manuscript may be someone's metaphorical baby, and even if the baby is really ugly, there's likely to be at least one thing you can comment on favorably. ("That kid's got a strong voice. It will serve him well as a professional umpire." [To yourself:] Also, the mask will hide his face.

Ask for feedback on your own work. In addition to giving the author an opportunity to reciprocate, which can ease their wounded pride, it emphasizes that the relationship goes both ways, and that you value the relationship enough that you're prepared to accept some criticism in return -- all in order of strengthening and improving the relationship.

When I started this essay, I wondered whether I might find some significant differences compared with editing for a client. To my surprise -- and this probably reflects the kind of relationship I try to establish with my clients -- I found that the biggest difference between editing for a friend and editing for a paying client is that you have a stronger pre-existing relationship to preserve. Clients come and go, and should you inadvertently offend one, they can be replaced. Not so much with friends. A long-term friend who trusts your judgment and is prepared to hear the truth from you is more likely to be unoffended by a rigorous and critical review of their work.

Of course, not all friendships are equally strong. A more recent friend or one with whom your relationship has become fragile for whatever reason will require particularly gentle handling. In extreme cases, such as a fragile relationship and a really bad manuscript, you may simply need to step back and say no. The relationship is more important than the damage you might do to it by doing what's necessary to save an unsalvageable manuscript.