Sample Editing
The following FULL POLISH sample for a NOVEL shows before and after.
Henry Schulte, Misery Loves Company
Four drafts to publication. On computer.
The original work is double-spaced.
Full polish on computer of author's 300 pages took 200 hours. Author's draft was well-written, had a well-organized plot, realistic and empathetic characters. The character developments, voices, and dialogue were reasonably consistent. Editor mainly smoothed out flow and consistency of details, fine-tuned, and enhanced the dramatic appeal. Publisher: www.trafford.com
BEFORE
Chapter 1
Peggy O’Reilly gently shook her head in a failed attempt to chase away a sudden onslaught of vertigo.
“You all right, Peggy?” asked her bridge partner and closest friend, Molly Butler.
Peggy scrunched her eyes. “Just a little light-headed.”
“You look white as a ghost. Why don’t we take a short break, girls,” Molly suggested to the rest of the ladies at the table. “Come on, Peggy; let’s get you a glass of punch.” Molly wasn’t an eighth of an inch over five feet and was nearly as wide. She wore her waist-length gray hair in a loose bun and required thick lenses to see. What she lacked in appearance she made up for with the enormous warmth of her heart. She came to Peggy’s side and grasped an elbow to help the much taller woman to her feet. “My God, girl,” she exclaimed, “you’re hard as nails! And as skinny as you look you weigh a ton.” Molly knowingly nodded. “I bet I know why you’re not feeling well, it’s all that exercise you’ve been doing. You push yourself way too hard for a woman of your age, but I’d kill for your figure.” Molly continued with the idle chatter as she guided Peggy toward the refreshment table.
Peggy O’Reilly towered a solid foot over Molly. She worked hard to maintain a body that a healthy forty-year-old would be proud of. Her radiant, naturally blond hair blended easily with a few strands of gray and the lines on her face only added character to her handsome features. When Peggy realized she was placing too much strain on her friend, she stood taller to relieve some of the pressure. They trudged past tables of women deeply engrossed in conversation and card playing. No one paid them any attention. At the snack table, Molly led Peggy to a nearby stool and helped her take a seat. She then filled a plastic cup with red fruit punch and grabbed a chocolate chip cookie—the cookies were a weekly contribution provided by master baker Constance Plow. She handed the cup of juice and cookie to Peggy and said, “I think I should take you to a doctor. You don’t look well at all.” Molly scowled and tried way too hard to look angry. “I’m not kidding.”
Peggy fought back the urge to laugh. She knew her friend had the best of intentions. “I’ll be fine, Molly, really. I think you’re right; I did exercise pretty hard today. I also think it might have more to do with nerves, knowing Kevin will be here soon. It’s been so long since we’ve seen each other and I’m not sure what to expect. I’m excited to finally see my son again, but after all these years I’m scared. I don’t want to blow it.” Peggy’s eyes glazed over and in a soft voice she added, “I wish I knew why he suddenly wants to see me.” She finished the punch and held out her empty cup. More upbeat now she said, “I’ll take another shot of this if you don’t mind. I’m feeling much better.”
“Mmmm,” replied Molly, her tone making it clear she wasn’t buying Peggy’s quick recovery. “You should still see a doctor and discuss if all that exercise is good for you. Your muscles are like stone. I’m impressed, but it’s wrong for a woman of sixty—”
“I’m not quite sixty yet,” Peggy shot back good-naturedly. “Don’t rush it.”
“What do you do in that place?”
“Oh, a bunch of things, a little aerobics, weight lifting. You really should give it a try, Molly. I know you’d like it once you got going. And like I told you before, I’d be more than happy to help as much as I can.”
Molly cocked her head and gave an understanding nod. She’d heard it all many times before. Aware of her friend’s discomfort when it came to the subject of weight, Peggy said, “Shall we go back? I imagine the others are anxious to start playing again.” Molly rushed to help Peggy back to her feet but found her aid wasn’t needed.
“I’m okay now,” Peggy said. “The juice helped and the cookie didn’t hurt, either. I have to admit, though, I feel a little worn out.”
“Then let’s call it an evening. I’m tired myself,” Molly said.
“No, please, I’d rather finish the game. I don’t want to disappoint the girls.”
After nearly twenty years of friendship, Molly knew better than to argue with someone as hardheaded as Peggy; she would have better luck trying to stop the earth from spinning.
Two hours later at a few minutes past ten, the Wednesday evening Knockwood Bridge Club broke up. The women bundled themselves into heavy coats, said their good-byes, and emptied from the church hall to make for their respective homes. Sadly, some drove off to cold, empty houses where a husband had passed on and the children had long since left. Molly and Peggy were part of that group.
Outside the front of the church Molly persisted for the umpteenth time. “Are you sure you’ll be all right driving home?”
Peggy said, “Don’t you worry, I’ll call you tomorrow.” She waved a final good-bye and crunched her way over the hard-packed patches of snow to her car. In a vain attempt to ward off the bitter cold, Peggy pulled her arms together and huddled tightly under her jacket. The inside of her 4Runner was as comfortable as a meat locker. And when she started the car, the heater fans blasted an arctic air she thought for sure would freeze her eyelids open. It sent chills into the very marrow of her bones. Unwilling to waste time waiting for the engine to warm, Peggy backed out of the church parking lot and embarked on the short drive home.
Exiting the parking lot, she spotted Molly, who still stood at the front of the church watching her. Peggy gave a short tap on the horn and waved. A block later, before she turned down Main Street, a glance in the rearview mirror revealed Molly’s silhouette hadn’t moved.
Peggy was thankful the engine was finally beginning to provide snippets of warmth. The same couldn’t be said for outside. The freezing temperatures had turned the day’s melted snow into slick sheets of ice by nightfall. She made her way cautiously over the slippery road past a bakery, a flower shop, and a number of tourist traps along Main Street in the picturesque town of Knockwood. This time of the night there were no shoppers and no other cars. Six blocks later, she turned right and headed toward the river.
Like many towns and cities in Vermont, Knockwood had its share of covered bridges. Some were entirely enclosed and a few had partially open sides. Peggy was approaching one of the town’s partially covered bridges when she was struck yet again with the dizziness she’d experienced earlier in the evening. She hadn’t had the heart to worry Molly any more than she already was by telling her the attacks had been occurring quite frequently over the past few days. As Peggy got closer to the bridge, she found it nearly impossible to focus on the road. The bridge itself took on a peculiar blurry appearance.
For reasons Peggy would never know, she stopped her car in the center of one of Vermont’s classic icons. She turned the engine off and a wave of calm like she’d never experienced swept over her. The fuzziness began to fade away. Nevertheless, a fear buried somewhere deep in her subconscious was screaming to start the car back up, get off the bridge as fast as possible. She struggled to understand the warning and became confused. The bridge offered her a wonderful sense of peace and she didn’t want to leave.
Peggy opened the car door and allowed the glacial air to suck out the comforting heat. She hesitated as her mind attempted to make some sense of what she was doing. In time, Peggy stepped onto the splintered and aged wood and gingerly approached the railing. She peered into the icy water and snow-covered rocks twenty feet below. The gentle babble called to her with a promise of even more peace than the bridge was offering.
There was a roughly four-foot gap between the roof line of the bridge and the top of the railing. Peggy straddled the railing and used her right arm on the over hang of the roof to hold herself steady. With a slight push, Peggy O’Reilly vanished over the side.
AFTER
Peggy O’Reilly shook her head to chase away the sudden onslaught of vertigo.
“You all right, Peggy?” asked her bridge partner, Molly Butler, looking up through thick eyeglasses at her tall friend.
Peggy scrunched her eyes. “Just a little lightheaded.”
“You look white as a ghost.” Molly turned to the other ladies at their bridge table. “Why don’t we take a short break, girls. Come on, Peggy. Let’s get you a glass of punch.”
Barely five feet tall and nearly as wide, with hairs straying from her loose gray bun, Molly waddled to Peggy’s side and grasped her elbow to help the taller woman to her feet. “My God, girl, you’re hard as nails! As skinny as you are, you weigh a ton! I’ll bet I know why you’re not feeling well. It’s all that exercise you’ve been doing. Girl, you push yourself way too hard for a woman your age—though I’d kill for your figure.” Molly continued the idle chatter and guided her friend to the refreshment table.
Peggy realized she was placing too much strain on her shorter friend and lifted herself to relieve the weight on Molly. Peggy O’Reilly had worked hard to maintain her body. Her still-blond hair camouflaged the few strands of white and, she decided, the sags on her face only added character.
Molly and Peggy trudged past the three other tables of elderly women who were deeply engrossed in conversations and playing bridge. Near the snack table, Molly led Peggy to a stool and helped her sit, then filled a plastic cup with the red fruit punch and grabbed a chocolate-chip cookie, the weekly contribution from Constance, their master baker.
Handing the refreshments to Peggy, Molly said, “I think I should take you to a doctor. You don’t look well at all.” She scowled and tried to look angry. “I’m not kidding.”
Peggy fought the urge to laugh. Molly had the best of intentions. “I’ll be fine, Molly, really. I think you’re right though. I did exercise pretty hard today. I also think it might have more to do with nerves. Kevin will be here soon. It’s been so long since I’ve seen him and I’m not sure what to expect. I am excited to see my son again but, after all these years, I’m scared. I don’t want to blow it.” Her eyes glazed over. “I wish I knew why he suddenly wants to talk to me.” She finished her punch and held out the empty cup. “I’ll take another shot of this, if you don’t mind. I’m feeling much better now.”
“Hmm,” Molly replied, not buying Peggy’s quick recovery. “I still think you should see a doctor. Is all that exercise really good for you? Your muscles feel like stone. It seems wrong for a woman of sixty—”
“I’m not quite sixty yet,” Peggy shot back good-naturedly.
“Don’t rush me.”
“What do you do in that place anyway?”
“A bunch of things. Aerobics, weight lifting. Molly, you should give it a try. You’d like it once you got going.”
Molly nodded indulgently. She’d heard this many times before.
Peggy changed the subject, aware of Molly’s discomfort about her weight. “Shall we get back? I imagine Janice and Jean are anxious to finish the game.” Molly started to help Peggy back onto her feet but found her aid wasn’t needed.
“I’m okay,” Peggy said. “The juice helped. The cookie didn’t hurt either.” She grinned. “I have to admit, though, I do feel a little worn out.”
“Let’s call it an evening. I’m tired, too.”
“No, I don’t want to disappoint the girls.”
After nearly twenty years, Molly knew better than to argue with her hardheaded friend. She’d have better luck stopping the earth from spinning.
Two hours later, at a few minutes past ten, the Wednesday-evening Knockwood Bridge Club broke up. The sixteen women bundled into their heavy coats, said goodnight, and emptied from the church hall, leaving for their respective homes. Some drove off to a cold, empty house where a husband had passed on and the children had long since left. Molly and Peggy were a part of this group.
Outside on the steps in front of the Church of Our Lord, Molly persisted for the umpteenth time. “Are you sure you’ll be all right driving home?”
“Don’t you worry,” Peggy said. “I’ll call you tomorrow.”
Peggy crunched over the hard-packed snow and ice to her white Toyota 4Runner and waved goodnight. The inside of the vehicle was as comfortable as a meat locker. Chilled to the very marrow of her bones in the bitter cold, she huddled inside her long wool coat and started the engine. It sputtered and the heater fans blasted an arctic air she thought for sure would freeze her eyelids open.
Unwilling to wait for the cab to warm up, Peggy backed out of the church parking lot and embarked on the short drive home. While exiting, she noticed that Molly was still watching her from the front steps of the church. Peggy tapped her horn and waved goodnight. A block later, before turning onto Main Street, she glanced in the rearview mirror at Molly’s silhouette which hadn’t moved.
The engine finally began to provide snippets of warmth. The same couldn’t be said for the outside. The freezing temperature had turned the melted snow on the streets into slick sheets of ice. Peggy drove cautiously along Main Street past the bakery, flower store, and tourist shops in this picturesque small Vermont town. At this time of night in Knockwood, there were no shoppers and no other cars on the road.
Six blocks later, she turned right in the direction of the river. Like many towns and cities in Vermont, this one had its share of covered bridges; some entirely enclosed, a few with partially opened sides like this one. She was approaching the bridge when the dizziness struck again. She hadn’t told Molly about these attacks.
The bridge took on a peculiar blurry appearance and she found it nearly impossible to focus. Then for no reason at all, she stopped the 4Runner in the center of the bridge and turned off the engine. A calm flowed through her and the fuzziness faded. Deep within, fear screamed, Start the car! Get off the bridge! Peggy struggled to understand but a wonderful peace enveloped her.
She opened the door. Glacial air sucked out her breath and chilled her through and through. She briefly wondered, What am I doing? but stepped onto the wooden bridge, approached the railing, and peered down into the swift icy water below. It called to her. She climbed onto the icy railing, held onto the overhang above, then pushed herself off and plummeted into the deep deep cold, halfway landing on ice-glazed boulders.
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