
Editors and authors write about lessons learned, along with misunderstandings, failures, tips, and more for authors who want to self-edit. Denis Shaughnessy writes in the foreword, “What you should try to do as an author is to develop an editor’s eye—to become sensitized to clichés, pleonasms, lazy phrasing, vague pronouns . . . so sensitized that you cannot bear to see them mar your manuscript.”
As any good editor does, I worked hard to keep the author’s voice and his own words. I fixed tense problems, weeded out exclamation marks, deleted repetition, moved modifiers. I sketched out a timeline of his story and restructured it for a smooth read. It was a challenge, but it was also a lot of fun (I know, only copy editors could understand that). Hours turned into days and weeks, but finally the project was done. I read it over once more, sent it back to the publisher, and moved on to my next job.
Two weeks later I received an email from the project editor. The author had read the edited piece and was disgusted by the result. . . .

More lessons learned, along with misunderstandings, failures, tips for authors who want to self-edit. Noosha Ravaghi writes in the foreword, “Anyone who learns the alphabet can write or type, and anyone can publish these days, thanks to technology. Real authorship, however, comes with the expectation of some level of responsibility.”
Limiting modifiers (only, just, merely, etc.) are often misplaced. If you use one in a sentence, move it around to make sure you’ve placed it correctly. Each of these sentences contains the same words but mean something different:
- Ellie only reads at night. (She does nothing else at night.)
- Only Ellie reads at night. (No one else reads at night.)
- Ellie reads only at night. (That’s it!)

More than two dozen writers contribute life experiences/lessons for children and adolescents by writing a letter to their 12-year-old self. Noosha Ravaghi is the editor and gatherer of the essays. She chose the age of 12, she writes in the preface, because, among other reasons, “twelve-year-olds need support and guidance to develop the skills they need to thrive during their teenage years.”
. . . this letter from the future is supposed to guide you through life, both with advice and warnings. It won’t be easy—your life, I mean. And, yes, I could tell you ways to make it easier, and better, to become a happier you. But I won’t, because what you are blessed with is a loving daughter and her wonderful family. . . .
- START A JOURNAL. I know the thought of one of your five brothers finding it terrifies you but start it anyway. Try hiding it under your mattress. . . .
- Continue your love of nature, of walking in the woods and fields, of listening to birds, at marveling over finding a secluded patch of trillium or finding a stone wall or foundation in the middle of nowhere. These are the special moments that you will remember for a lifetime.

More than five dozen writers offer letters and essays on gratitude in an anthology planned and edited by Chris Palmore, also known as the Gratitude Junkie. He writes “Gratitude can help us realize that material things won’t bring us happiness. . . . We have a choice to be either grateful or ungrateful. Gratitude is the hinge that swings big doors.”
One day when I was walking along the beach at low tide, just when the ocean was starting its return to higher ground, I came across a spot that to me seemed almost sacred (and still does). . . . The sound of the breaking waves was musical. The designs on the sands like fine wroks of art. Warm inland water meshed with cooler ocean water, clear water with salt. The inland water pushed out as the ocean water pushed in, creating a tension that was oh so gentle. I stood as long as I could to watch, listen, sigh, pray, wonder.