We are Guardians. We protect humanity and our allies from enemies and our human faults. The cost of entry is high: We die, are reborn, and the cycle never stops. Some people say this makes us zombies. But I know it’s not true. Even though my Ghost and the light that resurrects me and gives me superpowers come from a machine, The Traveler, I have agency.

This is Destiny (Ok, it’s Destiny 2, but who’s counting), the first person-shooter MMO that makes cooperative play an art form. And dying and living again and again really isn’t all that bad. It keeps the game going for as long as you want it to. It’s not a bad business model for the game developer and publisher, Bungie, either.

The story telling in the game is inventive; the graphics and music are stunning. Like all good art, it creates situations that explore the depth and breadth of the human experience. The gameplay encourages teaming up and centers on quests, arenas of increasing difficulty, and lots of puzzles to discover and solve. (Why are there three fairy circles in front of the temple in the Divalian Mists of Dreaming City?)

Like the story telling, the cooperative gameplay explores the depth and breadth of real time social experience. Sometimes you play with a random group of strangers, sometimes with acquaintances and friends. Just like everywhere and everywhen, you meet all kinds of people: those who enjoy helping and those with a drive to compete, those who are easy-going and those who are demanding, those who are rude, and those who cheat.

The endgame content—raids—are a series of 6-person team activities with the most challenging puzzles and opponents. Deep Stone Crypt is one of those raids. It takes place in the secret laboratory of Clovis Bray, far beneath and above the surface of Europa. Bray has devised a way to pour human consciousness into mechanical exoskeletons, whether the human wish it or not. He thinks he is humanity’s savior; others view his actions as a crime against humanity. Deep Stone Crypt is as toxic an environment as you can find.

We were fighting Taniks, the final boss in Deep Stone Crypt, and using a well-known strategy that is difficult at the beginning and a snap at the end. The boss drops four nuclear cores. You grab one, run back to your designated area (where Taniks isn’t), and drop it into a receptacle. If the team pulls this off, killing the boss is simple. With a trace rifle named Divinity, shotguns, a bubble, Lunafaction boots, and an empowered well, you can sometimes finish the fight in one or two rounds.

The problem is grabbing those nuclear cores. After they drop, four people need to grab a core within seconds. It’s an everyone-for-themselves situation, even though we’re a team, because the clock is ticking. Everyone knows their role and gets the job done. Except when they don’t.

I learned the other night that a teammate can swoop in and grab a core right from under you. Surprised, I madly looked around for another core, didn’t spot one in time, and we all died. Someone asked, “What happened? Did someone not grab a core?” True to my  nature, I said, “That would be me.” Also true to my nature, I said, “Someone grabbed the core I was going after, and I couldn’t see another one.” The chill was palpable, even though we were hundreds and thousands of miles away from one another.

Later, I learned that this happens. You just look around for another core, and sometimes you don’t find one in time. No one casts blame, even though the cost of failure is high. It was 10:45 and our third try. We needed to finish by 11:00, the raid leader’s limit for the night. (I admire his discipline.) No raid leader, less than six people, no finishing the raid.

The next night, I learned that you can grab a core right out of someone’s virtual hands. Oops.

I also learned that playing with people from outside your clan, who don’t know the social rules, are drinking, and aren’t familiar with the raid mechanics, can be as painful as learning that casting blame is a faux pas. Maybe painful is too mild a word.

These outsiders were verbally rowdy. In a virtual situation, the game sets limits on a character’s actions, so you don’t get physical rowdiness. There are emotes, but none of them are rude—certainly not misogynistic—and they’re often funny.[1]

Saying these guys were rowdy is an understatement. Man, they were rude. (And one of them got drunker as the raid wore on.) These guys spent more time exploring new and inventive ways to fling crude references to female body parts around than they spent listening to the raid leader.

Not knowing the raid mechanics was more important for my clanmates (all men) than crudities and rudeness. Causing a team to wipe repeatedly makes the raid drag on—an hour becomes two, then three hours or more. Eventually, it’s two o’clock in the morning, everyone gives up, and you lose out on the rewards for your effort. My clanmates are pragmatic. Maybe they have a point. Who wants to spend three or four hours with a socially inappropriate, drunk fool who doesn’t know what they are doing?

Although you can choose not to play with crude misogynists again, it’s not in my nature to let it go. Calling out misogyny outweighs pragmatism. Giving it a pass feels like a hop, skip, and jump from enabling the Harvey Weinsteins of the world.

Once our one-off, out-clan, drunk teammate learned that a boss we were fighting is female—Fallen culture is egalitarian—it took him only a second to call the boss a cunt. I gave him a pass. After all, Chaucer, Shakespeare, and John Donne used close euphemisms of the word. (Regardless, the word cunt as used today reduces women to a body part, which is good for no one.)

But when he shouted “vagina,” he crossed a line. I said, “That’s enough.” Dead silence. I could have asked the guy if he was trying out for poster boy of the toxic gaming community. (I don’t think that fast on my feet.) I could have taken him to task for implying that a virtual character was anatomically correct for its gender. Anatomical correctness didn’t go so well for CD Projeckt Red when they introduced customizable penises in Cyberpunk 2077. Penises floating around a game environment gets old and icky pretty quickly.

Flinging around the names of female sexual body parts, especially when you don’t have them, irritates me. It’s like the scent of bananas so ripe they are rotting; meat so spoiled that even a cat turns its nose. A dog hair in your clothing prickling your skin. The gummy taste of vomit in your mouth the morning after you’ve drunk too much alcohol. (I must be channeling that drunk player.)

I don’t know why some men think shouting crude terms for female body parts creates a fun environment. No one shouts penis, prostate, or seminal vesicle. It just sounds stupid. Come to think of it, so does the other stuff.

But men come in different flavors. Although the other men in the team said nothing to support my rebuke—their reaction was what you see when someone farts in a crowded room—not one of them participated in the crudeness. I guess that’s something.

Is it enough? No. But you have to start somewhere. It might take repeated tries, regrouping to assemble a better team, learning how to execute the best tactics. Eventually, you will bring down the boss, whether it is a virtual, evil Fallen or a real misogynistic culture. You won’t get very far, though, by telling the boss it has to stop hitting you.

What to do, then?

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When I first started playing Destiny 2, I noticed other players crouching up and down at the beginning of a mission, after succeeding, after killing you in a player-versus-player match. “What’s up with that,” I thought, shrugged my virtual shoulders, and did the same. When in Rome, you know? Eventually, I learned it’s called teabagging and has to do with men’s dangly bits. I stopped. My female character doesn’t have that equipment. Shot guns, auto rifles, rocket launchers, yes; dangly bits, no.

If you teabag at my Guardian, she’ll just emote confusion and walk away. I can find other people to play with.

Setting those limits in the physical world is a better place to start than telling an entire culture it must change.

[1] The game development and gaming industries have a well-deserved reputation for being unfriendly environments for women, or worse. But game developers know that the more people who play the better, and women are about half the potential market. The more product sales and more opportunities for on-going microtransactions, the more money they make. And this means attempting to establish environments that are not toxic for women. We haven’t yet figured out how to eliminate misogynism from anywhere, so it’s going to happen in the gaming world. Game developers have learned that it pays to avoid helping it along.

The sun is shining with almost-spring glee
Not that distant ghost that looks
Good but has no warmth

The temperature is 34, I checked
Put on my boots
The snow is disintegrating
And dirty with sand
What is that black stuff anyhow
The dog doesn’t care

I put on my heavy winter coat
The one with the broken zipper placket
And black streaks on one sleeve
And my scarf
And my hat
And my gloves

Go into the cold air with
The warm sun that says
Come here, come here
Take off your hat
The chill wind ruffles my hair
Not a chance

The sun is closer, yes
Blue sky, but crystalline still
Distant and fragile as if
I get too close it will shatter

At least,
Take off your gloves?
She’s a friend but
No thanks
I’ll see you in May

Early May came
A chill in the air—still
Sometimes a sense of impending doom
That hangs among trees before a storm

What must be owl chicks during my nightly walk with the dog
What must be the scent of newborn bunnies
The little purple flowers breaking through the grass
Lose the gloves and scarf

Yes, Virginia, you still need to wear a mask.

The day after I learned that Massachusetts was offering free COVID-19 testing at a location near me, I called and made an appointment. I drove to the site at the Lawrence General Hospital parking lot the next day, and less than five minutes later, after some unpleasantness with my nose, was on my way home. Forty-eight hours later, I learned the test result was negative. I was relieved. I could stop worrying that I would accidentally kill my 96-year-old mother by giving her SARS-CoV-2.

The next time I went outside, I wore a mask, one of the cloth masks I bought back in March. I’ve been wearing a mask religiously ever since that negative test. Before the test, if I forgot the mask when I took out the dog, I would shrug and tell myself, “Next time.” Now, I go back and get it.

I’m SARS-CoV-2 negative, but I’m still anxious. It isn’t only that the position of the Trump administration scares me. The idea that there are more infections because we are doing more testing is ludicrous. It’s also innumerate. Testing tells you something about how many infections are likely to exist at a particular time. It’s a snapshot and an approximation. But testing does not cause the number of whatever is being tested. It tells you about reality; it doesn’t create reality. (By the way, often, about two weeks after an increase in infections, there is an increase in deaths. It’s hard to get more real than death.)

I’m still anxious because at the grocery store, people wear a mask, but don’t use it to cover their noses. One day, I watched a man pull his mask away from his face to sneeze and cough. He didn’t even bother to sneeze into his arm.

I read the COVID-19 news like it’s a magic ritual that will protect me from illness. Most of the time it just contributes to my anxiety. But every once in a while, I read something useful. The latest research shows that wearing a mask reduces the number of viral particles that get into your nose (“Masks May Reduce Viral Dose, Some Experts Say”).

I’m not wearing my mask to protest dangerously foolish or rude behavior. I’m wearing a mask because it decreases my exposure to virus particles as well as yours. I’m wearing a mask because a COVID-19 test is a snapshot in time. My status was negative on July 31, 2020. Who knows what it is now?

And, anyhow, I have to take care of my mom.

Image by Gerd Altmann from Pixabay.

George Floyd should be alive today. Perhaps he would be accused of allegedly using a counterfeit $20 bill to make a purchase, but he would be alive.

He is dead because a police officer knelt on his neck, choking off his air supply. Evidence says Mr. Floyd was held in a prone position with an officer kneeling on his neck for eight minutes; he was unresponsive after five, according to the New York Times. Mr. Floyd would have become unconscious and a threat to no one after between seven seconds to one minute. There are many ways to immobilize a person, if necessary, without kneeling on their neck, holding them prone on the ground, or using a choke hold.

If Mr. Floyd knelt on a prone person’s neck until the person died, he would be arrested as soon as possible, charged with a crime, and jailed without bail. A prosecutor would not say to the public “we have to do this right.”

Mr. Floyd died because of police brutality and because he was African American.

It is critically important to understand that as a society, we were warned that police brutality was coming. Philip Zimbardo’s famous Stanford Prison Study painted a very clear picture. You can read about it here: https://www.prisonexp.org.

Some people argue that the number of guns in the US created this problem. I assure you, it is not the guns. Mr. Floyd did not have a gun.

Mr. Floyd and many other African American citizens are dead because of our scripts and biases, our systemic injustices, and our lack of individual commitment to our shared human condition.

It is tragic, sad, and frightening to see police brutality occur disproportionately in the lives and communities of African American citizens. Is is appalling to see it happen in the middle of a deadly pandemic that is disproportionately killing African Americans.

Although we could all do something positive to support the protestors and African American communities across the country, I think the only adequate response must come from our public servants. How do we treat African Americans who are arrested for murder? Treat the police in this case the same way.

Note: This article was edited to correct a lack of clarity in the stated time the officer knelt on George Floyd’s neck. The original article stated the time was eight minutes, which required further explanation.

Most recently updated September 21, 2020

In March when many people were protesting social distancing, I found reasons to appreciate it. I’ve been appreciating things that I never thought I would, like post-nasal drip–I think it means I don’t have COVID-19.

Top 10 Reasons to Appreciate Social Distancing

So, I’m okay with social distancing. The other day at the grocery store, I felt perfectly justified in calling a guy out for getting into my personal space. He still said it was okay for him to do that, but at least he didn’t pull out a gun.

Here are 10 other reasons I think social distancing isn’t so bad

  1. I appreciate the Police’s song “Don’t Stand So Close to Me” in a new way.
  2. I feel frugal when I have a 50 pound bag of dog food delivered.
  3. Open-the-economy protests give me a whole new understanding of the phrase, “cull the herd.”
  4. I really mean it when I wear my hat that says, “Not in the mood to wash my hair today.”
  5. I don’t feel awkward saying once again, “I’ll have to miss the progressive dinner this year.”
  6. There are no students upstairs playing knee hockey on the simulated wood floor.
  7. Developing a habit to wipe down the stove top, sink, and refrigerator was a snap.
  8. The governor waived late fees on overdue excise tax payments.
  9. No one tells me to “Just relax. It’ll all work out.”
  10. I don’t feel guilty about not visiting my mother.

Massachusetts and New Hampshire phased out the lock down this summer, and I visited my 96-year-old mother every week. Now, of course, I feel guilty for visiting her.

Less than 10 Reasons I’m Okay with Wearing a Mask

Over the summer, COVID-19 hot spots moved from the East Coast to the middle of the country. Many people protested mask mandates and refused to wear masks. On September 21, 2020, the total death count to date was close to 200,000. A little more than 40 percent of those deaths occurred in the Midwest.

I think wearing a mask isn’t really all that bad. Here’s why:

  1. I can cosplay Red Dead Redemption 2 without spending money on expensive costumes.
  2. When I wear my sunhat and mask, the age spots on my face get worse more slowly.
  3. My frown when people don’t follow the traffic pattern at the grocery store is invisible beneath my mask.
  4. People don’t look at me funny when I wear a balaclava in mid-September to keep my nose warm.
  5. A mask is easier to breathe through than a balaclava.

Most of life is unpredictable. But I will probably find more reasons to appreciate social distancing and masks.

Image by Alexas_Fotos from Pixabay

In my work as a ghostwriter, I meet a lot of wonderful people with interesting stories and lives. They inspire me, as does everything I read, hear, and see. Here, I share the thoughts and ideas that come… Read More

In Good Will Hunting, Robin Williams, who plays the main character’s therapist, says to his old frenemy, “It’s not about you …it’s about the boy.” In writing nonfiction, it’s not about you. It’s about the reader.

I like to consider readers first because they bring a lot to the reading process. You can produce a better piece of writing when you begin with the reader in mind.

What do readers bring to the reading process? At minimum, they bring reading skill. They also bring knowledge about the world, prior technical knowledge, and motivation. Motivation is a complex idea that encompasses a reader’s purpose, how much they want to achieve that purpose, and a host of cognitive and other psychological processes related to why they are reading. You can use your understanding of these reader characteristics to make your writing interesting, engaging, and useful.

Editing for Reading Skill

Your writing needs to mesh with the reading ability of your audience. If you’re writing for a general audience, then your choice of words, sentence lengths, and paragraph lengths should match the ability level of the average reader. Reading levels—which use word lengths and sentence lengths in their calculations—provide a rough guide to an audience’s ability. An average reader in the United States reads at a 7th or 8th grade level. Between first grade and the end of high school, a person’s vocabulary expands from around 8,000 to 14,000 words to more than 80,000 words. So, even if you write at that 7th or 8th grade level, there is a lot of territory to explore.

In nonfiction, there is little to gain from using big words and uniformly long sentences. An average word is approximately 5 letters, and an average sentence is between 15 and 20 words. However, if you write all of your sentences with 5-letter words and make them all 15 to 20 words long, your writing would be tedious. Compare a speaker who delivers a speech in a monotone to dynamic speakers like Dr. Martin Luther King, Jr., Bill Clinton, or Shaquille O’Neal. Words and sentences of varying lengths go into that average number and need to go into your writing as well.

The same idea applies to paragraphs. Paragraphs can be so long that by the time they get to the end readers forget the topic stated at the beginning. People are going to feel annoyed at best if they cannot follow the logic and stream of the thoughts you express.

Interesting writing presents a small challenge to readers. You nurture and maintain that spark of interest with a varied vocabulary, different word lengths, and a variety of sentence lengths and structures. The pace of the writing needs to vary, much the same as the pace and cadence of a great speech vary.

Prior Knowledge

Even if you don’t know anything else about your readers, you know they know something about the world. Most people have direct experience with the physical world, they bring this experience to reading, and you can use it to make your writing accessible. You can use physical experiences to build concrete examples for abstract concepts. You can use social experiences to do the same. A great example of this technique is how Paul Krugman uses rubbernecking to illustrate the unintended consequences of the economic concept paradox of thrift. Almost everyone has experienced a traffic jam caused by drivers slowing down to look at an accident scene.

How to write about technical knowledge is a little trickier. Can you assume your readers know about gravity? Can you assume they know how a cartographer makes a map? Can you assume they know what structured programming is? The answer to these questions is, “It depends.” The younger in a given field readers are, the less likely they have any knowledge of it. So, assume no knowledge for a general or introductory audience, and increasing amounts of knowledge for professional audiences.

When you don’t know what readers know, the safest approach is to define technical terms and explain technical concepts the first time you use them. Some people call this technique glossing. Even professionals can benefit from glossing technical terms because definitions can vary.

You can make good use of both prior and technical knowledge in the headings that provide structure to long-form writing—longer articles, essays, or books. The headings signal something about what is coming next. They provide a roadmap as a person reads and provide cues for reviewing material. In a digital environment, they can help make it easier to find topics—for example, through bookmarks.

For example, you might find a heading like “How to use Student’s t-test” in a book on statistics. Or, you might find a slightly different heading: “How to Calculate Student’s t-test.” You could also find a heading like “How to Compare the Difference between Two Means.” Your prior knowledge is what enables you know that “how to use” is different from “how to calculate,” regardless of whether you know what a Student’s t-test is. The third example, “How to Compare…” is broader and clearer, and it relies less on technical knowledge.

Can Writing Be Motivating?

Writing can be engaging, interesting, and inspiring, but I don’t think it can be motivating. I am using the term motivation in a technical sense, not in the common sense. In psychology, most definitions of motivation agree that it is a process within a person and that it initiates behavior oriented toward reaching a goal. Therefore, motivation is something within the reader, not the text. Readers might want to, need to, or be driven to learn something new or relearn something old. They might be interested in being entertained while learning something new. They may feel that they must read your book and nothing about it will be particularly interesting; reading your book is a chore.

Reader Personas

If you know your readers—who they are likely to be, what their lives might be like, how old they might be, what they might be interested in—you can use your writing to connect with them. You build connections through concrete examples that tie in to readers’ experiences and by using words in a way that is sensitive to prior knowledge or a lack thereof.

One way to articulate what you know about your readers is to create personas, which are simple sketches of reader characteristics. For example, adult readers can be:

  1. Over age 18
  2. Any gender
  3. Any ethnicity
  4. English readers, but English may not be their first language or spoken language

In addition,

  1. Readers can possibly have some disability.
  2. If readers are between 18 and 25, there’s about a 40 percent chance they are in college.
  3. If readers are 25 or older, there’s about a 32 percent chance they have a college degree.

How do you find out more about your potential readers, enough to build a reader persona? One way is to read what they are likely to be reading. In addition to reading the best writing, read about pop culture. Find out—or speculate about—where your readers hang out, and spend some time hanging out there with them, reading the same things they read. You might follow a specific hashtag on Twitter, read blogs on the topic you are writing about, and do similar reading on Facebook, BuzzFeed, Instagram, or Snapchat. Don’t confine your reading to an article or blog post; read the comments as well. You might play a video game or MMO to learn about different pacing that your readers experience.

When Do You Worry About the Reader?

Should you concern yourself with these issues when you sit down to write? My answer is a qualified no. Considering issues like word length, vocabulary, sentence structure, paragraph length, and pacing is something to do while editing. Having an idea of the reader in mind is something to do when writing. But your chief concern should be your topic, what you know about it, and what you want people to know about it.

Once you have a solid draft, you can revise for the reader. This is a good time to pull an editor into the process. Part of my job as a developmental editor is to be a guinea pig reader and an advocate for readers. Reader personas guide my work more than my own opinion about what constitutes good writing. In fact, I will test my opinion against a reader persona or even set it aside.

When I edit, I make sure the structure of a work is coherent. Are topics and subtopics in a sequence that helps readers understand the material? Are similar ideas grouped? Are terms and concepts introduced when they are used rather than before or not at all? Can readers follow the logic of the exposition? If not, what needs to change?

Once I address structural issues, I turn to detailed issues such as pacing, word choice, sentence structure, and so on. After working with these mechanics, I consider ways to make the writing clearer, more interesting, and more engaging. The order is important because structure and logic must be coherent for a piece of writing to work at all.

Editing for readers is one issue I focus on when working on a manuscript. In future blog posts, I’ll talk about the macro and micro structure of a book, narrative flow in nonfiction, thought arc, and many other topics.

For more information or if you want to talk about a book project, use the contact form, send me an email, or call.

 

Writing a book takes tremendous effort. Ernest Hemingway is often quoted as saying that to write all you need do is sit at a typewriter and bleed. According to Steve Paul, writing at The Hemingway Society website, there is no substantive evidence that Hemingway is the source of that quote. I think most of the authors I’ve worked with would say that writing a book takes time, thought, persistence, effort, and, in the end help.

I’m always a little embarrassed by some of the acknowledgements I have received for my work. I think developmental editing and ghostwriting are the most fun things to do—hardly work, although genuinely difficult. Usually by the end of a project, I feel a deep affection and fellowship with a book’s author. Some authors have become life-long friends. While I was working on the first edition of Kathy Schwalbe’s book, I was pregnant with twins, my second and third children. Kathy made beautiful, quilted pillow covers for each baby, and her mother knitted booties for them. I still treasure the pillows and booties. Don Gosselin has been like a brother to me over the years. And I owe my black belt in Taekwondo, in part, to Robin Wells, who I misheard as studying “force yoga;” Robin and I are about the same age, and I figured that if she could become a “force yoga” instructor, I could earn a black belt in Taekwondo. Of course, Robin was studying to become an instructor of Forrest Yoga, and I was experiencing a hearing issue.

More recently, I have been collaborating with Jeanne Beliveau-Dunn, a remarkable and energetic woman who grew up in Lawrence, Massachusetts, and is now CEO of the Internet of Things Talent Consortium. I have also been developing a very special philosophy book, but information about that and its author will have to wait until publication.

I help authors write books by collaboratively editing their manuscripts. Some people call this developmental editing. However, when an author doesn’t have the time or the writing skills, I do more of the heavy lifting.

I bring a variety of techniques to my work, including developmental editing, line editing, rewriting, research, and ghostwriting.

The way I see it, developmental editing begins with understanding an author’s vision for his or her work. What is the author trying to accomplish in the book or with the book, and who is the author writing for in addition to herself? Understanding the vision involves taking the author’s, the target reader’s, and the (prospective) publishing company’s perspectives, and then blending those into a coherent story of the book. It also involves understanding that a book’s vision can change over time. This understanding of vision from multiple points of view informs what happens during hands-on editing.

It is a good idea to know something about what other books exist on the same or similar topics. Is the book at hand unique? If not, does it have unique aspects? What distinguishes this book from others like it? Of the millions of books a person could read, what will drive them to read this one, beyond pure interest in the specific topic?

Developmental editing often involves project management. It’s a good idea to have some ideas about schedule, cost, and what the end product will look like. Will it be a hard copy book? Will it be an ebook, and in what format? Will there be figures in the book? What format does the manuscript need to be in for the production process? Is there a target length in pages or words? Is there any flexibility?

I like to have an idea of the book’s overall structure. How many chapters? Is there a good idea of how long chapters should be?

Most of the time when I do an estimate for a project, I don’t have answers to these questions or much information at all. And that’s OK, because most of the work happens with the paragraphs, sentences, and words.

I can take a variety of approaches to the editing. I like to look at everything I do as a suggestion. I can do all my work through querying, asking open-ended or close-ended questions. In this case, the author does all the implementation. I can do line editing and rewriting as necessary. I can suggest changes either by demonstrating a change or providing a model to follow. How much querying versus how much changing of words, sentences, and paragraphs I do depends on what an author and I agree to at the outset. An author might have the skills, but not the desire to do all the implementation. Or vice versa.

My process is collaborative. So, if we work together, I would hope to get as much information from you as possible before I begin. I would do a 5- to 10-page sample edit, preferably paid, and would send you the edited manuscript with all changes tracked in a Word document. I can edit a PDF, but I prefer to work in Word using track changes; I have not yet found a better tool than Word. I would send a memo along with the edited manuscript. The edit would describe what I found, what I think, why I think it, and what I think next steps should be. Hopefully, I would come up with a list of 3 to 5 key revisions that will improve the material so that it better embodies the author’s vision.

My deliverables always take the form of an edited manuscript plus a memo. If there are figures in the chapters, and you want me to work with those, I can sometimes come up with visualizations of concepts; however, I am no artist. Figures that I create are rough drafts, at best.

From a sample edit and memo, an author and I together decide what I should do. Ideally, we work together as a team, fully collaborating. This collaboration can occur via email, shared documents on Dropbox or Google Drive, phone or Skype calls, or any combination of these.

If this all makes sense to you, let me know. I’d like to hear about your current plans and needs from an editor. Basically, I’d like to hear whatever you’re willing to share with me about your current project. We’ll converse via email, or if you’d like to talk via phone or Skype that would work as well.

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