As a book editor and writing coach, I spend my time championing other authors’ work, helping them craft the best possible versions of their stories, and building their confidence as writers. I consider myself a compassionate editor, but I also pride myself on communicating rationally, logically, and objectively about my clients’ work. I’m working side by side with my clients to find effective solutions.
I’ve always been this way—I approach other people’s problems from the perspective of finding a way to fix them, then taking the steps to make it happen. And in the past, that’s gotten me in trouble. Because, as many a friend has reminded me, sometimes people don’t need logic right now. Sometimes they just want to vent.
So I try to remember that when I’m working with clients. When it’s time to offer counsel, I do. But when it’s time just listen, I try to keep my suggestions and solutions to myself for the moment and focus on the emotions at play. It’s not always easy, but I recently got a powerful firsthand reminder of just how emotional and vulnerable it can feel to write your own book.
Because I just released my own book.
Austin Brown Dogs: The Shelter Dogs Who Rescue Us is available for purchase through my publisher’s online bookstore. 70 percent of my profits will go directly to helping local pups in need.
Curated is a better word that wrote. I collected just over seventy stories from local pet parents about their relationships with their rescue dogs, and I compiled them into an anthology designed to celebrate our four-legged babies and raise money for a couple of my favorite local rescue organizations. I wrote a good amount of content for the book, and I made all of the editorial decisions, and let me tell you: it was emotional.
All of that logic I use with my clients? Gone.
All of my rational advice and perspective? Nowhere to be found.
Here are three things I tell my clients all the time that were incredibly difficult to adhere to, myself:
It’s OK to “Kill Your Darlings”
I haven’t tallied it up, but I would bet money that the advice I give clients most often is to trim their work down, avoiding repetition and distraction in order to help bring the most salient points and vivid imagery to the forefront. “It’s for the better,” I tell them. And, “You can save the material you cut to use elsewhere.” “Really, I know it’s hard, but you’ll find your work’s better for it.”
But ask me to trim a story about a pregnant foster dog from 1,300 to 1,000 words, and all that rationale is out the window. Every single detail about every single moment is precious, and readers do need me to reiterate just how precious it is three or four or five times or else the really won’t understand, and I am crying about the dogs and seething at the prospect of removing even a single word. But I have to, because I have a page limit to stick to, and that’s just how it is.
So to every author I’ve ever told to “kill your darlings” without fully recalling just how difficult that is, I’m sorry.
Seriously, how could you leave out a single detail of these sweet babies’ lives? Photos by Mabel Rodriguez, of Ma Belle Branding.
Dig Deeper
Writing is always vulnerable, and it’s especially vulnerable when you’re writing about your own experiences. My book is a tribute to my beloved first Austin rescue dog, Hank, who lived with us for just under two years before he passed away. It’s been two years now since we lost him, and it’s still hard to talk about. But I had to include his story in the book, even though it hurt to write. I had to dig deep and do my best to express how wonderful my little bear was, how much I love him, and how important it’s been to me to honor his memory by finding a way to support other homeless senior dogs.
It took several tries, and it required a lot of breaks and encouragement and patience with myself. Ultimately, I think I did him proud, but it wasn’t easy.
So to every author who’s writing about personal hardships (and many of you are writing about hardships much more difficult than mine), I promise to be gentle in helping you tease out the details that get to the heart of the issues.
Share Your Work
I think I do a good job of putting myself in the mindsets of my clients’ target audiences. Whether you’re writing for young readers or business owners, I try to put myself in their shoes and read from their perspectives. But when I don’t fit squarely into a particular audience’s head, I often advise my clients to use their peers as beta readers, asking them to pay special attention to the details, turns of phrase, and other nuances that are particular to their demographic.
But do you know what? Sharing your work is a big, scary, vulnerable feeling. I know that, logically, and I remember it from my workshopping days in college and graduate school, but until it was time to start showing my own content to my friends and family for feedback, I hadn’t fully appreciated just how squeamy it feels. Even though I knew the people I was asking for feedback were the kindest, most compassionate audience I could come up with—who would give me their honest, constructive opinions from a place of truly wanting to help me make the book great—I hated opening myself up to criticism. (That said, I’m so glad I did.)
I make a concerted effort to recognize the big step my clients are taking to share their work with me, a relative stranger. But from here on out, I promise to be more empathetic to how hard it can be to share your work with friends, too.
Part of sharing my work with others was getting up in front of everyone at the launch party and talking about it. As many authors who are introverts like me can attest, sitting at a desk by yourself and writing is the reason we write. “Going public” with my story was scary, but oh-so rewarding. Photo by Mabel Rodriguez of Ma Belle Branding.
It wasn’t easy, y’all, and I came away from the experience with a much deeper appreciation for what my clients are going through. But I also learned just how incredible it feels to finish a work you’re proud of, get it out into the world, and bring together your community to celebrate your accomplishment. Because to publish a book is a true, enormous accomplishment.
I can’t wait to help you achieve that feeling for yourself.
A few more photos of the fun we—humans and doggos—had celebrating this project. Photos, again, by the talented Mabel Rodriguez of Ma Belle Branding.