Editor's notes: I feel all funny

I've been editing the work of other authors for a while now, and often the same things crop up in the reports I send back to them about changes or suggestions I've made. So, I thought I'd share some of those common issues. I'm not talking about the basics of grammar or storytelling because there are many places you can find out more about those on the web. I'm talking about the real nitty gritty things that, as an author, you may not spot in your own work. All the examples are ones I've made up myself (hurriedly); I work with clients in complete confidence.

I'm kicking off with a bit about the verb 'to feel' and related sensory matters.

Here’s a little story: Naomi was walking down the street when her lover sneaked (snuck? No! I refuse to believe snuck is a real word) up behind her, shoved her into a side alley and fucked her senseless against the rough wall. She could feel the bricks grate against her skin through her thin t-shirt. She could feel the damp soaking into her bones. It made her feel dirty. It made her feel alive.

Or you could put: Naomi was walking down the street when her lover sneaked up behind her, shoved her into a side alley and fucked her senseless against the rough wall. The bricks grated her skin through her thin t-shirt. The damp soaked into her bones. It made her feel dirty. Alive.

When you’re writing from one person’s point of view – whether you’re doing it in the first or third-person – you don’t always have to tell me that they’re the one ‘feeling’ all the sensations. It’s a given. (I’ll get onto head hopping another time.) So you can edit out most uses of the verb ‘to feel’ and keep it for when you are perhaps giving some deeper insight into a character's psycho-emotional state or describing an unusual sensation.

Related to that are the other more commonly described senses. Take the verb ‘to hear’: She was lying on the bed, naked, her eyes closed, waiting for him to get in from work. She heard a car pull up outside. She heard its door slam. She heard, or maybe she only thought she did, footsteps coming up the path. She heard a key in the lock. She chickened out, leapt up and got dressed.

Or: She was lying on the bed, naked, her eyes closed, waiting for him to get in from work. A car pulled up outside. Its door slammed. She heard, or maybe she only thought she did, footsteps coming up the path. A key scraped in the lock. She chickened out, leapt up and got dressed.

‘To see/look/watch’: I looked up and watched him hook his thumbs into the waistband of his briefs and saw him slide them down his thighs, down his calves, and off. I saw him take a step towards me, saw a hand reach forwards for my waist. I watched as his lips approached mine. (I think I went cross-eyed.)

Or: He hooked his thumbs into the waistband of his briefs and slid them down his thighs, down his calves, and off. His hand reached for my waist as he stepped towards me. His lips approached mine.

As you can see, I'm not saying that these verbs should be banned entirely; I'm not that kind of editor (and if you believe 'snuck' is a real word and are going to use it, I'll respect your choice!). Language is not a fixed, immutable thing and rules are there to be broken. For every writing tip you read, you can probably find someone else saying the opposite. But moderation is key; I believe that each word you write should be deliberate. I've kept in the word 'felt' only when I'm talking about feeling dirty as a key part of the sexual experience. I've kept the word 'heard' only when we're straying into what she might be imagining rather than actually hearing in reality. 

I hope my examples have helped to explain what I mean. Next time, I'm going to say a little about the problem of unintentional head hopping. And if you need an editor, my info is at www.tillyhunter.co.uk.