Last week, I got my first round of line edits from my editor for Rumor Has It. Exciting, right? Well, not so fast…

Terrified, I opened her email with her instructions, because this is a first for me, and we need this to be as seamless as possible for maximum efficiency. This requires more than just ‘looking over.’

I’ve self-edited. In fact, I’ve self-edited to the point I can’t wring out any more dislike for it. BUT this, this kind of editing  is significantly different, and not for those prone to pouring tequila shots when they need to relax. Nope, this stage is where you find out how little you know about the structure of a sentence and where commas go, and where they most certainly do not. This stage is where you truly appreciate your frequent use of the F-bomb and stylish eye roll. Yeah, so get this, this is where you find out that the funny sentence you wrote twice, self-edited five hundred times, and distributed to beta readers (some of whom were accomplished authors) actually reads nothing like you intended. And, if left alone, will read like ‘all guys want ugly girls with cash’ and not, ‘all guys want sex’ as you intended. I’ve read my writing (five-hundred times at least) and I still effing missed it.

So, what’s the point in self-editing, I asked myself no less than six times while looking at the glaring red markups. My answer, despite numerous attempts at procrastination and thoughts of pouring a double shot of Patron, soon became obvious the deeper I delved into my part of the work process. If I hadn’t of self-edited, I’d be in the fetal position, plastered on tequila. Imagine what a mess I’d have if I turned it in without any effort. I mean come on, FIVE-HUNDRED READ THRU’S, and I still didn’t catch the red underlined misspelling of definitely.

Critique of your book baby isn’t for the weak, but if you’re open-minded, you just might learn a thing or two, like oh, say, back seat is two words not one.

Q: How many times can one person face palm themselves and still survive?

A: At least a dozen