You have permission to disregard edits. Just be thoughtful about which ones you let go.

“This is far too emotional! No one thinks about their feelings that much.”

It was 1999 (nearly Y2K baby) and I was a soon-to-be MA graduate. I felt like hot stuff sitting in the campus coffee shop with my poet shirt and leather trenchcoat. Sipping my oh-so-sophisticated cappuccino, I looked at my critique partner in shock.

Did I ask sensible questions about his criticism? Boldly defend my choices?

No. I smiled, nodded, and died inside.

Maybe he was right. Maybe he wasn’t. I couldn’t tell because I was too caught in “holy shit what if I’m in fact the worst writer to ever write?”

As an editor, I always explain why I’m making changes. But I’ve noticed a lot of writers are lugging around the same burden of fear I had that day. Fear that every critique means they fucked it up.

More than one of my clients has asked me what happens if I cut a part they adored? What if I take my flaming red pen and scorch out the sentences dearest to their hearts?

And to them (and you) I say:

Criticism is never objective.

It can’t be. The person giving it is a human, and humans have opinions and feelings and preferences. 

It’s easy to see an editor as the Guardian of How Words Work. But the most experienced editor in the world still has preferences and biases. Those preferences and biases are going to influence how they edit.

One person’s ick is another person’s literary classic

In the wilds of the writerly internet this week, I saw no less than three editors proclaim “never personify an object! Objects can’t have feelings or take independent action!”

Tell that to Charles Dickens:

“All these boys were in great spirits, and shouted to each other, until the broad fields were so full of merry music, that the crisp air laughed to hear it”

Now your editor might not like personification. But if it’s good enough for Dickens I’m pretty sure you can pull it off too. A good editor will take your natural style and voice into account. Maybe they’re not mad for personification, but they get that you are, and they make sure you’re using it well.

So am I saying you should cast off criticisms like a freed prisoner casting off their shackles?

Hell no.

But learning to discern whether criticism works for your book or not is a skill that will serve you well.

When should you take criticisms from your editor on board?

When they make sense for your book. There’s a certain amount of putting on your big person pants here. If your editor responds to your flowery description of the haunted castle with “this needs to be shorter to move the story forward”, take a fresh look at the passage.

Be honest. Do you need to dig yourself out of the thicket of chandeliers and sconces and suits of armor before the reader dozes off?

Remember, criticism is there to help your novel, not destroy it.

When should you reject criticisms from your editor?

When they don’t make sense for the scene or book.

Your editor doesn’t think you should mention Jacy’s obsession with Formula One. It’s not relevant.

But you know that Jacy’s insider Formula One knowledge is going to make her the perfect getaway driver.

Your editor wants to know if Mollie and Mikey would really respond to news of a terminal diagnoses by making tea? REALLY?

You, a Brit who would absolutely do that, knows they would.

Your editor thinks that side quest is too distracting.

But you know it will change everything for your bold dragon-born princess, and your editor can tear it from your cold dead hands.

Are you rejecting too many notes?

If you find yourself huffing and puffing at most of the edits, it’s time to look at what’s going wrong.

The most common reasons for a rash of rejections are:

1. Mismatched expectations. You were expecting feedback on the structure but you’re getting line level edits. Be sure you and your editor are clear on the kind of edit you need.

2. You’re being too precious. Someone had to say it. Sometimes we let our egos get in the way. Before you reject an edit, clarify why you’re doing so, beyond “well I just didn’t like it!”

3. You don’t click. You’re not friends with everyone in your town. You don’t like every movie you watch. You don’t get why your bestie is so obsessed with that one TikTok of the person nodding. Sometimes you and an editor don’t gel, and that’s fine. That’s why I recommend always getting a sample edit before you sign anything or pay money. It’s a chance to see how they work, and whether they’re a good fit for you.

What’s the best way to know if criticism is right for your novel?

Try it out. If you’re not ready to kill your darlings, paste the part you’re going to rework into a new doc. Then get out your hammer and chisel and have at it.

Some tweaks will make sense. The minute they hit your eyeballs, you know your editor picked up on something you weren’t quite seeing. 

Others aren’t an immediate yes or no. So try them out. Rework that sentence. Add that extra character motivation. Go take the dog for a walk or grab a coffee to give your brain breathing space, then come back and review again.

Professional criticism is one of the best tools in your writer’s arsenal. It shows you things you couldn’t have seen, because you’re so close to the story. The act of discerning what to take and what to ignore hones your writerly instincts and teaches you to look at your own work afresh.

Remember: Edits are never set in stone. Be curious, be open minded, try out your editor’s suggestions, but don’t be afraid to push back. You’ll learn more about yourself and your work along the way.