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Editing Can Be Terrifying. But Does It have to Be?
I know editing can be terrifying. Not just because I’m an editor, but because I’ve been edited. By the kind of editors who could make a grown man cry over a misplaced comma.
Picture this: fresh-faced, eager, and utterly clueless, I walked into my first real editorial job at Republican Press as a trainee editor-intern. My supervisors? Six formidable, school-teacherish editorial ladies who could spot a dangling modifier from across the room and wield a red pen like a duelling sword. Under their sensible skirts, blouses, and beige shoes I became convinced they hid scales, long tails, and fire-breathing abilities. Occasionally I thought I glimpsed a claw tapping where a finger should be, or the reflection of iridescent dragon skin as they turned their noses away in disgust at my sad attempts. Often there was telltale smoke!
Long hours, terrible wages, and an ever-present fear of being called to the editorial desk to get flamed for my grammatical sins. It was soul-destroying and if I had been weaker I would have folded under the pressure.
I mean, I already had a degree with English as one of my subjects. I had got straight As and awards from first grade until graduation. If my mother had allowed me to attend preschool I probably would have got them there too for a well-spelled CAT and MAT. I knew in my bones that I was GOOD at words. Until I got edited by the dragon ladies.
Every sentence I touched was scrutinised, every word choice questioned. If I so much as dared to split an infinitive, I’d get a look so withering it could strip paint. And let’s not even talk about passive voice—using that was practically a sackable offence.
At the time, it was infuriating. I’d submit something I thought was perfectly decent, only to get it back looking like it had been in a knife fight with a red ballpoint pen. My confidence wobbled. My self-worth teetered. I seriously considered running away to join the circus, where at least no one would critique my sentence structure.
But here’s the thing—underneath all that strictness was an education no writing course could ever have given me. They weren’t just nitpicking for the fun of it (well, maybe sometimes). They were shaping me into an editor who understood that words matter. Every punctuation mark, every shift in tone, every unintentional ambiguity—they all change how a reader experiences a piece.
Later in life, I worked as a ghostwriter, again subjected to a vast number of editors of varying ability, attitude, and personality. Over 200 books written, and I seldom got the same editor twice. Gosh golly some of them had an axe to grind and an ego a mile long. I got very good at biting my tongue and taking it on the chin. But honestly, the wrong sort of editor can leave you with a massive therapy bill.
What We Do: Editing & Draft Reviews With Kindness
Lessons were learned.
When I created my editorial team at Harvard Ink I had something much better in mind. Something more supportive and kinder to fragile writers. Maybe it is my therapeutic background that adds an extra layer of love to what we do. But we do things differently, based on my experience of the superstars and shitty blahs of the editing world. We don’t just correct grammar. We care for our writers. Because we know what it feels like to be on the receiving end of an editor who makes you doubt everything you’ve ever written. Good editing should not leave you feeling steamrollered, battered, or convinced that you should have taken up plumbing instead.
We want to nurture talent, not suffocate it. There is enough suffering in the world without toxic and twisted editors adding to it. After all, some of us can be very nice. We are not all dragons (well not the sort that eat writers for breakfast anyway).
We work on multiple levels. Yes, we’ll fix your commas. But we’ll also help you retain your voice, your style, your vision—so that your writing sounds like you, just polished. We make editing as pleasant as editing can be, unless the editors actually paid you for the privilege of working on your book (which, let’s be honest, would be a lovely reversal of fortunes).
Editing English, by the way, is an art form. It’s complex, riddled with quirks, exceptions, and layers of meaning that no AI—no, not even Grammarly—can fully grasp. AI can be helpful, sure, but it has a nasty habit of “correcting” things that don’t need fixing, missing nuances, and completely steamrolling symbolism and subtext. I know some writers try to skip the whole professional editing phase for all the reasons I have given above. And I have heard many say, “Oh I ran it through AI! That should be enough, right?”
In my humble yet extensive experience, if you want something professionally, humanly, and lovingly edited, you need a real, breathing, experienced editor. AI—or your best friend who is “good with words and spotting mistakes”—might not save you from getting egg on your face when there’s a glaring typo on page one, paragraph one. Not to mention, every mistake disrupts the immersive reading experience. Maybe it’s my editing background, but typos and errors pull me right out of the story or vision and make me question the author’s professionalism.
These days at Harvard Ink, we have a team of eagle-eyed, warm-hearted, and supportive editors ready to assist with every project. Whether you’re writing a novel, a business book, or something in between, we’ll help you refine it without crushing your soul in the process.
So, if you want an editor who’s been through the fire and lived to tell the tale—one who understands that editing is both an art and a collaboration—then you need Harvard Ink.
Want to Know More?
Drop us a line. We’ll make sure your words shine, and we promise not to make you cry (unless it’s tears of joy at how good your writing has become).
Contact us at info@harvardink.com to start the conversation.
You can also check out our homepage here.
Photo by Miroslavik, 2019, Pixabay.
