Scott R. Welvaert

10. Your blind spots are real—every writer has them.

We all have literary habits we’re too close to see. Maybe you overuse certain gestures (my main character rolled her eyes so much, I had to roll my eyes at the eye rolling). Maybe your dialogue drifts into the same patterns. Maybe you overwrite descriptions or underwrite emotional beats. That last part is SO ME. Every other page, I got the note, “but how does this make the character FEEL?”

A good editor reveals not just isolated errors, but patterns—the habits that recur so subtly that your own eyes skim right over them. Seeing these blind spots illuminated on the page is uncomfortable. But the moment you recognize them, you begin to gain control of your craft

9. Your story is stronger than your ego—even when it stings.

When an editor tells you a chapter doesn’t work, or a character’s motives feel thin, your first instinct may be to defend it. That’s natural. But an editor isn’t trying to diminish your creativity—they’re trying to help the story you intended to tell emerge from the story you wrote.

One of the most liberating lessons for any novelist is learning that the story wins when the ego steps aside. When you can say, “Okay, let’s rethink this,” you unlock an entire new dimension of creative potential.

8. You’re allowed to keep your voice—editing shouldn’t erase you.

There’s a common fear among indie authors that an editor will “homogenize” their writing. But professional editing isn’t about making you sound like someone else. It’s about strengthening your natural voice, so it carries more power, clarity, and resonance.

The right editor amplifies you. If a suggestion forces you to change your style to something that feels wrong, you’re allowed to push back. Voice is sacred territory. Editing teaches you where to compromise—and where to hold the line. Always remember that. You can say no to an edit, but don’t make it a habit.

7. Structure is craft, not magic.

Most authors outline…or don’t. I’m a plotter, NOT a pantser. Either way, structure feels like an elusive beast until someone experienced points out its bones.

Editors help you see:
• Where pacing lags
• Where conflict stalls
• Where scenes lack tension
• Where themes don’t land
• Where threads dangle or collide

Once an editor walks you through the architecture of your own story, you start recognizing these structural mechanics for yourself. It’s like someone hands you a blueprint to your own imagination.

6. Every scene needs a purpose (and so does every sentence).

This is one of the hardest, most humbling lessons, and one I still haven’t gotten a tight grip on yet. ARGHH! A beautifully written scene—one you love, one that sings—may be doing nothing for the story.

Editors ask ruthless, essential questions:
• What does this scene accomplish?
• How does it move the plot?
• How does it deepen character?
• Why is it here?

The same questions apply at the sentence level. Editing teaches you how to refine your prose with intention, trimming what’s hollow and sharpening what matters.

5. Emotional truth is often buried—editors help you dig it out.

Sometimes you know exactly what your characters feel, but the emotion never fully reaches the page. This one still misses me. My editors found a lot of moments to uncover the emotions hiding in the story. Other times, you’ve written a scene so logically that the emotional stakes get lost.

A good editor is a kind of emotional cartographer. They help you pinpoint:
• Where a character’s reaction feels muted
• Where motivations need strengthening
• Where emotional continuity gets interrupted
• Where a powerful beat is hiding under the surface

These insights teach you how to write with deeper authenticity—something that elevates every book you write afterward.

4. Consistency is an unsung superpower.

Fiction is full of small moving pieces: character details, timelines, distances, magical rules, worldbuilding elements, subplot threads. Readers may not consciously track them, but they absolutely notice when something slips.

Editors catch:
• Eye color changes
• Magic systems that contradict themselves
• Timelines that break
• Characters who age too fast or too slow
• Laws of physics selectively obeyed

One of my longest-running workshop partners is my GO-TO for this. He ALWAYS catches mt slip-ups for me. Watching an editor identify inconsistencies you never noticed is a lesson in humility—and in meticulousness. After that, you learn to keep better notes, build better systems, and track your story world more carefully.

3. Revision builds resilience—and that resilience is a writer’s greatest asset.

There comes a moment in every edit where you stare at the feedback and think, I don’t know how to fix this. And then, slowly, you begin.

You experiment. You rewrite. You cut chapters. You add new ones. You discover a stronger ending. You find a better way into the story. The manuscript becomes a living, evolving document.

And here’s the revelation: every time you survive an edit, you become a sturdier, braver writer.
Professional editing teaches you that you can revise deeply, meaningfully, thoroughly—and that every revision makes you better.

Professional editing teaches you that you can revise deeply, meaningfully, thoroughly—and that every revision makes you better.

2. You don’t write a book alone.

Publishing—especially indie publishing—can feel solitary. But editing reminds you that creativity thrives in collaboration. Having an editor invested in your book, your characters, your vision—someone who wants the story to reach its fullest form—is an incredible gift.

Working through edits gives you a partner in the process, someone who brings clarity where you had fog, perspective where you had bias, and craftsmanship where you had instinct.

And once you experience that partnership, you never want to go back to writing completely alone.

1. Clarity is more important than cleverness.

God, this here is the one ring above all. This is the most critical thing to get out of the editorial process. You may love an intricate metaphor, a labyrinthine sentence, a poetic image that makes your heart buzz. But if it confuses the reader, it isn’t doing its job.

Editors teach you the most essential craft principle of all: clarity is kindness.

Your reader wants to be transported, not puzzled. When you learn to balance clarity with artistry—thanks to an editor’s pushback—your writing becomes sharper, more confident, and more readable.

Final Thoughts

Professional editing doesn’t just refine a manuscript—it transforms the author behind it. It teaches you discipline, sharpens your intuition, strengthens your voice, and deepens your understanding of story. It humbles you and elevates you at the same time.

The more books you write, the more you realize that editing isn’t a hurdle to overcome. It’s a craft apprenticeship you get to participate in—every single time you create something new.

And every time, the story that returns to you is stronger, wiser, and truer than the one you sent out.

In the meantime, stay frosty, my friends!

-W