Pulling Up My Big Girl Pants
Terry Odell
My previous editor focused primarily on copy editing. She made sure everything was clean and flowed properly. If she found something she didn’t think worked for the plot or the story, she’d point it out, but there weren’t a lot of those. She, however, is no longer editing, and I had to find a new one. I’d used her once before, and I liked her work, so I contracted with her for Beyond the Frame.
About two weeks after I sent her the manuscript, she gave me my feedback. She’d done some markups in the manuscript (I still don’t like Track Changes!), but this time, she did the bulk of her work in an editorial letter, not something she did the first time.
Wow! That’s what the big, traditional publishers do. Should I feel like I’ve moved up? I don’t know. This is the opening to her letter:
You write clean, readable scenes. The dogs are wonderful and they do real work. Baxter and Sammy carry more emotional freight than most secondary characters in this genre. The Hughes family is alive on the page; Mandy in particular. Wyatt’s “You done good, Colton” is a lovely, earned beat. The gallery confrontation with Iris is the sharpest scene in the book. And the horseback sequence has real cinematic pull. Enjoyable and likable characters.
I was feeling pretty good about that, but then she goes on.
So, this letter isn’t about your sentences. It’s about the building they’re sitting in.
I give a quick peek to the bottom of the Word doc. You know, where it gives the page count. It says this is page 1 of 16. SIXTEEN? That’s sixteen pages of editorial notes to go through. Suggestions, and her reasoning behind them. And this doesn’t count all the comments she left in the manuscript.
I admit that most of what she says makes perfect sense. Some of it makes okay sense, and a few points I don’t agree with at all. What’s scary to me is she’s pointing out all the things I don’t like about writing a novel—the “rules” or “conventions” or “reader expectations. Things I suppose I should think more about as I’m writing.
As a reader, I don’t like to expect things. I don’t like the pinch points, the beats, the mirror moments, the three act structure. I’m a pantser, and I write what happens. It usually works. I have an organic feel for how things need to play out. Her comments remind me of discussions about books in Mr. Holtby’s English class. When it came to symbolism and “deeper meanings” we would ask if the author had those in mind when they were writing. He said, “They probably felt they were finding the ‘right words’ and it was up to us to see what they meant once they were put together.” My editor was doing a full Mr. Holtby in her feedback. Pointing out things that I was clueless about as I was writing, but they ended up on the page. Who knew?
Now, to be honest, I had some doubts about this book. I knew right off that I wasn’t adhering to either the romance or the mystery/suspense conventions. Sure, the hero and heroine fall in love and have their promise of a Happily Ever After, but they don’t get there in the conventional way.
So, I’m going to be doing a LOT of revising, rewriting for the next I don’t know how long. I can say that I’m not ready to commit to a release date. It’s like I’m putting together a puzzle, but some of the pieces are in the wrong place, and some don’t exist yet, and when I build them, it messes up other pieces. I remind myself I’ve managed to get over thirty novels finished and published, and that sometimes the work is just plain hard.
On page 15, she gives me a 12-item punch list to go through.
And on page 16, she closes her letter with this:
The good news, and I mean it: almost every beat you need is already written. The gallery scene, the eulogy, the truck confession, the horseback night, the morning-after retreat…they exist. Most of this revision is changing why they happen, not whether. That’s a rewrite inside the same architecture, which is a much smaller job than it looks like from here. (She included a happy face emoji, too.)
Oh, and I have a cover! Thanks to Kim Killion of The Killion Group.

Your turn, TKZers. The floor is yours.
Find me at Substack with Writings and Wanderings
Deadly Ambitions
Peace in Mapleton doesn’t last. Police Chief Gordon Hepler is already juggling a bitter ex-mayoral candidate who refuses to accept election results and a new council member determined to cut police department’s funding.
Meanwhile, Angie’s long-delayed diner remodel uncovers an old journal, sparking her curiosity about the girl who wrote it. But as she digs for answers, is she uncovering more than she bargained for?
Now, Gordon must untangle political maneuvering, personal grudges, and hidden agendas before danger closes in on the people he loves most.
Deadly Ambitions delivers small-town intrigue, political tension, and page-turning suspense rooted in both history and today’s ambitions.
Terry Odell is an award-winning author of Mystery and Romantic Suspense, although she prefers to think of them all as “Mysteries with Relationships.”





Many authors talk about hitting a wall at about the 30K mark, and I’m no exception. At that point, I usually wonder if I’m going to have enough story for a whole book. Since I’ve finished over 30 of them, the answer seems to be yes, but that doesn’t stop the doubts from creeping in.
I hit another wall somewhere in the 60K neighborhood, which is where I am now in the current WIP. “Wall” is probably the wrong term. Raging river is probably a better term, because now, the nagging question becomes whether the book is ever going to end. This is where I need to get into my version of plotting.
At this stage of the process, I look at my “notes” file to see if I had any ideas that need adding, fleshing out, or cutting. I also get out my handy legal tablet and make handwritten, almost legible notes of threads that I have to deal with. That means for the last 10-20 thousand words of the book, I’m plotting.
Eventually, everything gets addressed. At that point, I’m ready to print the whole thing using my “fool the eye” technique, and see how it holds together.
There are always interruptions to the writing process, even when you’re diligently writing.
That’s always a problem with research. You pick up fascinating tidbits like the Sandhills Calving System and include it in a family discussion. But will it move the story forward enough to justify those 135 words? Nope. It’s in my “snips” file in case it turns out to be needed, but research should follow the iceberg rule. Most of it’s under water, and shouldn’t show on the page.












