The process of writing flows for the most part — guided more or less by character and plot, fueled by coffee, words flow on the page, glowing with the aura of imminent birth. Then, the author peeks at their newborn and realizes that newborns are soggy, messy creatures.

Everyone has to edit. I made a mistake with my first book or two by thinking I didn’t need to edit. After all, I’m freakish when it comes to words — I learned to read when I was three years old (almost simultaneously with learning to speak), read the Journal of the American Medical Association in the doctor’s waiting room at age 10, things like that.

I learned that I needed to edit. This humbled me greatly.

Editing is not just proofreading, although proofreading is important. Spellcheck will never be enough — a student of mine once discussed “Elf Defense” in a final paper. It had passed spellcheck. I still giggle when I think about it, with pictures of “Legend of Zelda” dancing in my head.

Editing, in reality, includes:

• Reading for flow:  Does the narrative lag? Drag? Does it contain holes that characters could fall into? Conversely, does the narrative speed along, leaving the reader behind?

• Reading for character: Are the characters consistent? Are inconsistencies explained? Will the reader get to know the characters? Identify with them?

• Reading for word choice: Too many passive verbs? Awkward phrases? Hilarious double-meanings or mental pictures? 

• Reading for plot: Are there plot holes? Impossibly convoluted trails from A to Z? Is the plot dramatic enough or funny enough or whatever enough?