The work of a writer is never really done. We are constantly tinkering with that manuscript, because there is always something that could be changed to make it better. But eventually, there comes a point when we have to put that manuscript into the metaphorical drawer and leave it alone.

When that manuscript is in the hands of another person, that's the perfect time to ignore that manuscript. Resist the urge to fix that typo or change that sentence. Just forget about it. Because if you keep tinkering, then the comments that come back might no longer be valid.

But some writers believe they have the perfect solution for this: Just send the editor the latest version. Never might that the editor is now screaming into the void, because everything that they had done up until that point has been made redundant and they have to start over again. But, at least they have the right version now, right?

Excuse me while I sit here with the phone at arm's length as my editing buddies go into a complete meltdown over the situation.

And the fallout is never pretty.

The writers who do this (sending the latest document to the editor or whoever) don't understand that they are not only creating more work for the person at the other end, but they are also quickly earning themselves a bad reputation—one in which could mean that you struggle to find another editor (or another reader).

The Urge to Tinker

If you are anything like me, you struggle to resist the urge to read and reread your own writing. That writing is never perfect—because perfection is something that doesn't exist.

Every time I read a passage, I find some other hidden correction needed. Most of the time, we're talking about the copyediting stuff (misplace comma, the wrong word used, or the sentence that hits you like a speed bump). But occasionally, I'll finding something that requires more thought on how to correct it… often resulting in a rework of the entire section.

Even in stuff that has been published, I'm still finding things that I wish I could change. But what is out there in the wild is now out there in the wild.

So, I totally understand the urge to tinker. But it's also because of the tinkering urge that we need other eyes on our manuscripts. What we see as a problem might not be a problem. But sending those constant revisions to your editor...?

As an editor (and an occasional beta reader), it is frustrating in the extreme to be given a manuscript to read (and work on), only to be sent a new version a week later. And a new one the week after that. And a new one the week after that. And we have already hit the point where that manuscript has been put to the side so I can work on something else, waiting for the writer to finish their tinkering—and to stop wasting my time.

The Tinkerer Reputation

I'm not the only one who honestly can't be bothered to read something if I know that there is a high probability that the manuscript I was sent is going to be replaced by a different version at some point the following week. I know that the writers in question are trying to be helpful, trying to make the most of the situation and ensure that I'm providing feedback based on the latest version. But if one has already built the reputation of being a tinkerer, how do I know that any comments I give—on any version—won't be made redundant before I give that feedback?

Many editors in my circles complain bitterly about this. It happens time and time again. The writers who tinker in the extreme don't understand that they are not only making more work for the editor (and often incurring more charges because of this monkeying around), but it also makes more work for the writer. And if it happens often enough, some editors will drop those clients faster than they can make your head spin, refusing to work under those conditions.

And many beta readers I know are the same. They just don't have time for that noise.

In general, if you have sent your manuscript to another person for review, then put it into the metaphorical draw and LEAVE IT ALONE!

My Rules to Curb My Tinkering

I'll admit that I struggle in a big way to resist the tinkering urge. So, here are the rules and guidelines that I give myself for my personal projects.

1) If I have sent it out the door to another person to read, I put a deadline on when I would like comments back. That manuscript sits in the metaphorical drawer until at least a week before that deadline.

This enforced metaphorical drawer time helps me to gain the emotional distance needed to look at my manuscript objectively.

A word of advice about deadlines: if you are the one setting the deadlines for your readers (which might be the case for beta readers and critique partners), ensure that you are giving them ample time to read that manuscript and to mull it over before returning comments to you. I often try to give my beta readers at least a month, if not longer. (But you don't want to leave it for too long, or things might never happen.)

Editors should provide you with a date on when you can expect editorial comments back. This is the case for editors working for traditional publishing houses too. They are all working to deadlines, so even if it's a ballpark range, they should be able to provide you with some sort of guidance on when to expect feedback.

And if the editor refuses to give you this date, hound them until they do. In my opinion, it's incredibly unprofessional to leave you hanging for months on end. (Been there. Done that. And I won't work with that editor again.)

2) When I pull my manuscript out of the metaphorical drawer, I do what I call a "hands off" read.

This is where I'll load the version I sent out the door onto my reMarkable tablet (I used to print them out to do this, but that was costing trees). As I read, I'll mark up the manuscript with my trusty red pen, making notes in the margins, crossing out sentences and reworking on paper, and putting circles through the text everywhere. My editor's hat is on during this read, and I'm hard on myself.

It normally takes me roughly a week for this type of read-through of my personal manuscripts, so that's why I give myself permission to take that manuscript out of the metaphorical drawer a week before the deadline for comments.

3) As the comments come in, I'll make notes in my manuscript (using comment bubbles). And I'll compare the notes with what I saw during my "hands off" read. No major rewrites are done until this comparison is complete.

It is this comparison that will help me to prioritize my rewrites. Anything that is a simple correction just gets done. Anything that was commented on by multiple people (and this might include myself) is given attention sooner rather than later.

The idea here is that I'm treating the comments that I wrote for myself during my "hands off" read as though they were comments from a beta reader or a critique partner (or another editor). My own feedback on a particular section might not be as good as the feedback provided by someone else, simply because I know the material intimately well, which is why I compare the notes.

4) I make the rewrites necessary and start the process again (if needed).

It is a process, deliberately forcing myself to step back when needed. It is a process designed to ensure that I'm never sending out a manuscript that is going to be out of date before I get those comments back.

Like I said earlier, a manuscript can never be perfect, because perfection doesn't exist. But if you are a tinkerer by nature (like me), you have to find a way to allow time for the feedback from others to happen before you make changes.

Do you have any tricks that you play to help with the urge to tinker? I welcome your ideas in the comments below.