You don’t have to use an editor’s proposed solution.

The job of a developmental editor is to highlight areas within a manuscript that are problematic and provide possible solutions on how to fix those problems. However, it's the writer's job to fix those identified problems in a way that works for the story and holds true to the writer's vision for that story.

That doesn't mean that the writer is supposed to just bow down and do exactly what the editor tells them to do. The editor could be wrong. But it's up to the writer to make that choice.

In today's post, I want to talk about my own experiences of working with editors on my own manuscripts and how I, as a writer, had to make the choice to tell my editor "no" to his solution and do it my own way.

The Disclaimer in My Reports

Being a writer and a developmental editor gives me the perspective of both sides of the coin. I have seen many manuscripts over the years where the writing was lacking significantly. I have also seen manuscripts where the writing style was beautiful, but I was still able to drive tractors through the plot holes. And as the writer, I've laughed myself silly when I saw comments from the editor that were almost identical to comments that I had just written in a client's manuscript.

"How does your character know this? Show me!"

But because I am a writer first, then the editor, I also understand how an editor doesn't always get it right.

In all of my editorial reports, you will find the following disclaimer in some fashion.

The advice I give is based on how I see your story working, but only take on board any suggestions that hold true to YOUR vision.

An editor might highlight an issue with a manuscript, but their diagnosis of the problem might not be correct. As the writer, only you can make that decision.

And that is the heart of everything here. The story is the writer's story, not mine. I don't know what it was they had originally envisioned. I can make educated guesses based on my years of experience as a developmental editor and writer, piecing together what is the most likely variant of story that the writer was trying to achieve (based on what I saw on the page). But I'm not the writer of that story. The final decision on what to do with that story is not up to me.

Editorial advice I've received that didn't work for me.

Some time ago, the editor I was working with on my assassin thriller wanted me to write a prologue to my novel of the main character meeting the first victim in the manuscript. My main character is an assassin, and the opening chapter had always started with my main character getting up from the bed of the man she just killed. (Black widow assassins… They're so much fun!)

My editor wanted me to write the prologue scene from the point of view of the victim, starting from the point where he meets my main character and up to the point where the first chapter takes over (the man's death).

To be blunt, the idea bored me. I tried to write it, but every time I attempted the scene that my editor wanted, I would yawn and scrap the entire thing. It just didn't fit how I wanted my main character to be portrayed.

BUT I understood what my editor was getting at when he suggested the prologue in the first place. He wanted me to create a scene that would ensnare the reader's interest in the novel's world and keep them engaged long enough to get through the world building as I defined the culture of my assassin's world. It was meant to be a "just hang in there, and it will all make sense" type of scene.

As I continued to think over all the possible solutions about what could work, I came up with an entirely different scene connected to a moment that was already present in the manuscript. So, I wrote a back story scene from the perspective of the rogue agent, who my main character is sent after. And the new story scene eventually led to the evidence that my main character is shown when she is first given the assignment to go after the rogue. So, from the reader's perspective, you know the truth behind the photos my main character is shown and you have an inkling as to why the rogue went rogue in the first place. (But my main character doesn't just take the photos at face value. She knows there is more to the story than what she's being told… and the chase begins.)

When my editor read the new prologue scene, he was floored. "Why didn't I see that option? That's perfect."

My response: "You didn't see it, because it's not your story."

Editorial advice that highlighted an issue, but the suggested solution pointed to the wrong issue.

When working on my crime thriller, my editor was struggling to understand why my main character needed a pen name. (My main character in that novel is a writer like me and it's the search for the perfect pen name that sparks the entire story, because her search turns up photos of her mother's death scene.) I thought I had telegraphed the reasoning for the pen name search within my storytelling, but clearly, I failed to hit the mark. As I was reading through my editor's comments, I started to see the pattern of where it was failing—and it wasn't where my editor said it was.

In his comments, he had pointed at several scenes where he thought I could build more into the characterization to make it clear as to why my main character needed a pen name. But I completely ignored all of his suggested additions. Instead, I went right back to the early chapters, where my main character was discussing the pen name importance with a writing buddy and actually spelled it out exactly what the purpose was. I didn't change any of the sections that my editor had highlighted, because his diagnosis of the problem was outright wrong, and his suggested changes would have taken the story away from my vision—and would have left me with a mess to fix.

My editor was amazed at the simplicity of the solution I came up with and how well it worked within the context of the story.

But that's the point: the solution that I came up with worked within the context of the story because it was MY story.

Knowing what feedback is right and what is… not so right.

If you are looking at feedback from your own editor (or from a critique partner), there will likely come a time when you look at the feedback and blink. "Did you actually read my story?"

No doubt, there will be a particular line of feedback that totally makes you question the sanity of the person giving that feedback (even if they happen to be your editor). But if you don't like a particular line of feedback, don't instantly jump to the conclusion that the feedback is wrong. It is more than possible that the feedback is actually right, but not in the way that one would normally think.

As mentioned in my disclaimer that I include in ALL of my editorial reports:

An editor might highlight an issue with a manuscript, but their diagnosis of the problem might not be correct. As the writer, only you can make that decision.

In both of the instances that are described above, the feedback wasn't wrong. In both cases, there was a fundamental problem with my stories, and my editor was highlighting an issue. He was doing his job by providing possible solutions. But my job, as the writer, was to take on board his feedback for what it was: issue identification. In both cases, I didn't use his proposed solution because it didn't fit within the context of the story. By coming up with solutions of my own, I was able to hold true to my vision.

But that is where the true talent of a writer lies: taking the feedback provided by others and crafting their own solution to an identified issue.

Do you have your own stories about when the advice from an editor wasn't quite right and you did something else to fix the identified issue?