What I focus on, and what I don’t.

You hand over a manuscript knowing it will be examined closely.
That’s already vulnerable. It doesn’t need to come with a questionnaire attached—How did you write this? If we say we’re on the fiction writer’s side, why are we starting from suspicion?

And lately, I keep seeing the same conversations—less about the writing, and more about how to catch them doing it ‘wrong.’ That’s the part that stops me. Because editing, and the way I practice it, isn’t built on surveillance. It’s built on partnership. I’m not here to add another layer of anxiety by implying I’m auditing how you drafted it.

That’s not my job. Whether you used sticky notes, late-night brainstorming, voice memos, a thesaurus, beta readers, or AI prompts to untangle a paragraph, that’s part of how you got your story out of your head and onto the page. My role begins with the manuscript in front of me.

Does it communicate clearly?
Does it hold together?
Does it reflect what you mean?

Those questions don’t change based on a drafting tool.

Editing isn’t a purity test. It’s not an investigation. It’s two professionals working toward the same goal: a strong, coherent book in the hands of readers.

Trust is part of that equation. Not blind. Not naïve. I’ll be honest, it would be easier to stay quiet about this. To read the articles, nod along, and move on. Staying in the safe lane means you rarely have to risk having an opinion. I almost didn’t write this.

But that’s what my work is built on … respect: for you, for your work, and for the shared goal of putting your novel out into the world. And it doesn’t begin with suspicion.