What Crying Taught Me About Writing

Editing Has a Way of Doing That

Quick introduction:

I’m an editor who is usually the last person to look at a book. I’m not just reading it for high-level structural issues (by the time I see it, those are usually ironed out).

While I can tackle developmental editing and making an author’s lofty ideas crunch like crackle-n-pop in our old favorite cereal, my most often requested edit is a line edit.

Photo by Zoshua Colah on Unsplash

This means I’m examining sentences. I’m taking it piece by piece, making sure there isn’t any other way the reader could read it than how you want her to read it.

I’m looking at flow, punctuation, word choice, and, of course, all the Grammarly stuff that AI still doesn’t always get right. (I’m looking at you, tone and voice.)

Fast forward to why you’re here:

How did a nonfiction compilation book make me cry?

And why did that crying remind me of something incredibly valuable to every writer out there?

I was wiping away tears while editing a book written by multiple authors today, and it wasn’t because it was perfect.

The book didn’t make me cry on every page, and it certainly had its writing holes. (These are spaces where a story almost hit it out of the park but fell short in a few strategic areas.)

Some authors wrote longer sections, while others were incredibly short. Some tied up neatly with a theme; some didn’t.

But what made me cry?

A few poignant, well-placed stories a little before the 1/3 mark of the entire book.

One of them reminded me of a health scare someone in our family had. Another one had me looking ahead to our future, suddenly reminiscing about our right-now life as if it had already passed me by.

Another one made me marvel at the way an author unfolded a private family matter that was still in its messy middle but with equal parts honesty and composure amidst the hardship.

Why 1/3? What’s so important about that?

Research (anecdotally, anyway) tells us that readers tend to quit books around the 10% mark or by page 50 if they’re really gracious. This means that you need a story that pulls at your reader’s heart (yes, even in nonfiction) well before that mark.

Even if your book sags a little after that killer story (and don’t we all sag a little as we age?), your reader will be much more gracious to you if you’ve met them emotionally before they get to that point.

Your plot may scare the you-know-what out of them by page 20. They’re hooked.

Your memoir may make them laugh out loud by page 15. They’re probably going to hang in there for at least another 15 pages.

Your nonfiction lifestyle book might include that time you got lost in Rome and had to hand-gesture your way to public transit—it’s relatable to anyone who travels. We’ve all gotten lost at some point.

This collection of nonfiction instructions had a few interruptions that pulled me into joyfully reading a volume I might have otherwise put down.

One of those stories made me cry the kind of tears you don’t want anyone but your husband and your dog to see. The kind you cry when you’re alone in your car on the way home from a long goodbye.

So, as you’re going back through your book, look for the story that grabs you most. Where is it?

If you write nonfiction, you may want to rearrange your entire book to highlight the story you know will resonate with readers. (It’s also a good idea to ask one or two Beta readers to be early adopters of your book; let them tell you which story stands out to them and what made it sing.)

What Crying Taught Me About Writing

In the end, you want a selection of stories throughout your book (or if you write fiction, you want to view these stories as scenes) that resonate widely.

Think about the emotions that we all have.

We all grieve,

We all laugh,

We all get embarrassed (or most of us anyway),

We all get addicted (to hobbies or sports or other things, but all of us fall in love with something),

We all reminisce and experience feelings of sadness, regret or feeling left out.

We all get disappointed.

How can you connect, through the stories you’re telling, to another human being who isn’t you but feels like you do sometimes?

Maybe your main character has only experienced a few of these emotions. That’s okay; just make the telling of those experiences something that takes your reader to a familiar memory or time in their life.

What’s Next?

I plan to read some craft books and a few novels over the summer. Who wants to join me in some of that reading? Sign up by commenting here. I’ll have some unique offerings on hand for those who do.