The Crayola school of editing

On Tuesday, I did a live edit session for our friends in Premium Membership. (And yes, I’m going to come back to the agent etiquette thing soon. Just wanted to hit this editing theme while it’s fresh in my mind.) 

During the webinar (which Premium Members can replay here), I found myself using a technique for the first time and I found it strangely useful. I found it helpful as a way to explain what I was thinking editorially. But I realised that it can also be really valuable for solving editing problems on one’s own manuscript. 

Here’s what I mean. 

Let’s take a chunk of made-up text. In the edit session, we reviewed a piece involving a funeral, so here’s my version of something similar. 

The ground was iron, frost glittering wherever the sun hadn’t found it. 

One group had come in matching pink T-shirts worn beneath dark coats. My dad was in the middle of it somehow. That unsteady walk of his, those trusting spaniel eyes. How did he always get looked after? The T-shirts were advertising some charity thing that the Aunt Jem must have been involved in, but the attempt at buddiness felt a little breathy, a little forced. My dad always gets looked after, somehow. I didn’t know why. I stood apart from the other mourners, drinking coffee from a paper cup. 

A few snowflakes fell. Funeral weather. 

My dad found himself in the middle of the pink T-shirt mob. A couple of people hugged him. 

I’m wearing dark jeans, a black shirt. It feels like clubbing gear, not proper funeral wear. 

Now I hope that feels like there’s something alive in that piece – but also muddled. None of the sentences feel bad, but we don’t quite know where to look when. The flow is missing. 

The technique I used in the webinar was simple: I just started colouring different bits in different ways. 

So, we’d apply one colour for PLACE / WEATHER. 

We’d have another colour for PINK T-SHIRT GANG. 

We’d have another colour for DAD. 

We’d have a fourth colour for SELF-REFLECTION. 

So our Crayola-ed up text now looks like this: 

The ground was iron, frost glittering wherever the sun hadn’t found it. 

One group had come in matching pink T-shirts worn beneath dark coats.

My dad was in the middle of it somehow. That unsteady walk of his, those trusting spaniel eyes. How did he always get looked after?

The T-shirts were advertising some charity thing that the Aunt Jem must have been involved in, but the attempt at buddiness felt a little breathy, a little forced.

My dad always gets looked after, somehow. I never knew why.

I stood apart from the other mourners, drinking coffee from a paper cup. 

A few snowflakes fell. Funeral weather. 

My dad found himself in the middle of the pink T-shirt mob. A couple of people hugged him. 

I’m wearing dark jeans, a black shirt. It feels like clubbing gear, not proper funeral wear. 

What that does – apart from creating an eyesore – is make it incredibly clear how the text is / isn’t flowing. 

Our task isn’t necessarily to make all the colours join up. For example, it’s perfectly normal if references to physical place / weather etc are dotted throughout the text. And not just normal, but positively good – constant small references keep us rooted in place.

Likewise, fragments of personal reflection ought to be dotted through the text for the same reason: to keep the presence of reflective self alive throughout.

But that doesn’t necessarily go for the ‘Pink T-shirt mob’ text, and it may not apply to the dad-related text either.

Unless there’s a reason for those things not to join up, they should probably join up. So that turns our text into something like this:

The ground was iron, frost glittering wherever the sun hadn’t found it.

One group had come in matching pink T-shirts worn beneath dark coats. The T-shirts were advertising some charity thing that the Aunt Jem must have been involved in, but the attempt at buddiness felt a little breathy, a little forced.

My dad found himself in the middle of the pink T-shirt mob. A couple of people hugged him.

My dad was in the middle of it somehow. That unsteady walk of his, those trusting spaniel eyes. How did he always get looked after? My dad always gets looked after, somehow. I never knew.

I stood apart from the other mourners, drinking coffee from a paper cup. I’m wearing dark jeans, a black shirt. It feels like clubbing gear, not proper funeral wear.

A few snowflakes fell. Funeral weather.

That’s basically the same text, except that three things have happened:

First, we found some obviously duplicative text and killed it. That just brightens the whole passage – it says the same thing with fewer words and fewer moments of stalling.

Second, we’ve achieved a rational flow here that runs:

1. Physical scene setting
2. Focus in on one group of mourners, but not v intimately. (We don’t know these people, they’re described as though from distance.)
3. Focus in on day (more intimate – he’s dad, we’re commenting on type of eyes.)
4. Consider self
5. Nudge scene setting again.

Notice that the sequence runs from (A) more distant view with no inner reflection through to (B) completely up close and personal view with direct inner reflection. That feels nice.

And third, in doing this, we’ve achieved a small but complete emotional movement, which runs like this:

1. It’s cold, but there’s some sun.
2. Those people in pink – don’t really like them
3. But hey, dad always gets looked after. He gets hugged.
4. I’m alone & wearing the wrong stuff
5. Now it’s snowing.

It’s as though the weather has turned crueller because the narrator comes to feel his own wrongness. The yellow at top and bottom of the revised text is basically telling us, “this emotional movement is now complete – we’re ready for the next emotional beat”.

I think there’s more to say on this, and maybe I’ll pick this up in a future email, but I think there’s quite a lot of power here already.

The takeaway? If a scene is feeling alive but mushy – confused, somehow – then the Crayola technique is a strangely powerful one.

And, guys, if YOU need help with editing, there are two obvious ways to do it.

Number One-ola: Use our extremely experienced, utterly professional editors to make your manuscript better. I mean, we call it a manuscript assessment service, but that’s really not what it is. It’s a MAKE YOUR MANUSCRIPT BETTER service, and you can get it here.

Number Two-ola: Become a Premium Member of Jericho Writers. You unlock all the premium elements of our lovely free community. You get live edit sessions. You get live Q&As with industry professionals, including – where, please, you’re encouraged to blurt out your questions. You get courses, and masterclasses, and query letter reviews, and discounts on pretty much everything, and all of our AgentMatch agent database, and more, more, more. It’s dumb not to give it a go, and you ain’t no dummy.

FEEDBACK FRIDAY / Outer to inner

Go on then. Give us a scene either that you’ve revised using these techniques or which shows a similar movement from outer to inner and which delivers a short but complete emotional beat.

250-300 words, please. As ever, please provide your title, genre, and any explanation that we need to make sense of the passage. When you’re ready, upload your work to this forum.

Til soon.

Harry