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Befuddled here. Someone is applying specifically to a writing school, is writing and submitting a piece of fiction in order to get into the school, and is asking you to doctor it?

I guess I'm not as good a writer as I think, if I was that unclear!

No, it's two different ideas for how I could earn money--work for a place that hires Ivy-educated freelancers to help kids with their Ivy admissions essays, and look for work as a book doctor.

I was going to say. Hired-gun book doctoring, once the contract has been signed, no problem (and happens all the time).

For admissions essays and other "I am presenting myself as a good writer" items, where marketing, not fulfillment of contract is concerned, I'd say you are obligated to work as a teacher of good writing, and not as a "doctor".

So, comments on a draft essay would be more like "This sentence is awkward; please rephrase to make the main idea clearer" rather than just rephrasing it for them. How does that strike you?

I agree with Nutty 100%.

I guess I'm not as good a writer as I think, if I was that unclear!

Heh. No, you weren't - I was befuddled with the tired. I read it again this morning and it make perfect sense. Anything I ask on a Thursday night is generally pre-Avonex, which means slightly blink-making.

And yes, what Nutty and Jessica said, I'm in total agreement.

I was going to say. Hired-gun book doctoring, once the contract has been signed, no problem (and happens all the time).

Heh. I should probably wait until I've sold a book myself before I do this, because otherwise I'd be too resentful of the work!

The idea came up because some people from my critique group were looking over the brochure for a local writers conference, and there was a seminar touting the idea of hiring a book doctor before submitting your manuscript. My gut reaction was that it was a rip-off--join a critique group, read some books on writing, maybe even take a class or two, but don't shell out big bucks to get your manuscript worked over when you have no idea if the market would buy it no matter how perfect the structure and the prose. But everyone else in the group thought it was a good idea, especially for people who are natural storytellers but not natural writers.

And I think y'all are right about the admissions essay thing.

I should think a pre-contract book doctor would be (a) possibly a scam and (b) a really good bid for a nice copyright lawsuit somewhere down the line, since all the contracts I've seen have a whole "Author affirms this work is original and hers and nobody else can lay claim to it". (Scrupulous book doctors have "work-made-for-hire" written into their agreements, but it's the sort of thing people don't think about most of the time without a publishers' law department breathing down their necks.)

(I also think "natural storyteller, but not a natural writer" is a sign that the person in question needs a co-author, not a simple hired gun.)

My experience with book doctors is that they're often called in when an author just doesn't feel like doing the work, but the book is too valuable a commodity to cancel its publication. I don't know what book doctors do in the fiction market, but considering I've put out books where the lead author is dead, anything that happens after a contract is signed no longer surprises me.

Heh. No, you weren't - I was befuddled with the tired. I read it again this morning and it make perfect sense.

OK, good. Because I know I'm bad about rambling and crafting technically grammatical but excessively long and complex sentences that don't always make the kind of sense they did in my head. That's a big part of my first editing pass on anything I write--seeing how many sentences I can chop in half without ruining the flow of the piece.

I'm having fun working on the scene from the novel from just upthread. Last night I sat up late typing in several pages I'd written longhand at the mall yesterday (where I'd fled to find AC). At the end I was kind of dancing at the computer and chanting, "I'm a good writer, I'm such a good writer."

Quoth DH: "Nice shooting, kid. Now don't get cocky."

At the end I was kind of dancing at the computer and chanting, "I'm a good writer, I'm such a good writer."

Aww. Cute.

Quoth DH: "Nice shooting, kid. Now don't get cocky."

Ibid.

Susan, a story for you, which (as a baseball fan), you'll probably especially appreciate. The reference is to what George Brett's batting coach used to tell him during the season where he nearly hit .400.

Nic used to be my one WIP editor. He's a beautiful, beautiful editor: literally can split the left side (pure technics) and the right (flow and emotional impact) down the middle, and wear both hats. These days, I have other beta readers and WIP editors, but he used to be It, period.

He didn't WIP-edit Plainsong because I wrote it so quickly - first sit-down to "finis", six weeks. I finished it in a blissed-out trance - really, I felt stoned - and left it on the desk. I headed past Nic, who was watching TV, told him I was done, it was ready for him, I was going to bed, and did.

I got up the next morning and found the manuscript on the kitchen table. There were three yellow post-its sticking out: two typos and a continuity question.

Atop the pile was a note from my husband. It simply said "Atta way to write, George."

I'd love to do that to someone again.