So here’s the scoop on who you should pay, when, and why.

“Literary agents” (quotation marks deliberate) who ask for a fee for editing, or who recommend an editing service, are likely scam artists who have no interest in placing manuscripts with publishers. Run, do not walk, away from this sort of interest in your book. Yeah, it’s exciting to hear their enthusiasm. You’ll be a lot less enthusiastic once you’ve spent time with them.

Legitimate literary agents comply with ethical standards that prohibit them from charging authors a fee (beyond minimal office expenses for postage and copying——many do not even charge for those, and most charge only against advances received).

Agents make their money only on manuscripts sold. Agents pay money to authors; they do not collect money from authors. When your book is sold to a publishing house, your agent will collect an agreed-upon percentage of whatever it is that you make from the book. You should never write a check to your agent.

Now … on to editing.

Authors who are preparing manuscripts for submission to literary agents may wish to take full responsibility for the editing of their submissions. They often belong to peer-editing writing groups, writing workshops, critique groups, etc., and I strongly advise you, if you’re writing a book, to send it through this review process.

While a pass by a professional editor may be a worthwhile investment for the submission package of a few chapters, it is not absolutely necessary.

However, a self-publishing author is a publisher and, like all publishers, is responsible for having the book professionally edited before publication. This is when you write the check, folks. Editing (which may include both developmental editing and copyediting) is a normal part of the publishing process and is best done by skilled professionals, who do not work for free.

So … clearer? Let me know if you have any other questions. Recognizing the various roles in the publishing industry and moving efficiently through them is the best way to be seen as a professional; and it will put you … beyond the elements of style!

What is a stylesheet? Well, you’ve probably at least heard of or at best worked with style manuals such as The Chicago Manual of Style, the Associated Press Handbook of Style, or the Publications Manual of the American Psychological Association. You might even be familiar with The Elements of Style! These manuals tell you how to present your work in such a way that it’s clear and consistent. Wikipedia says, “A style guide or style manual is a set of standards for the writing and design of documents, either for general use or for a specific publication, organization or field. The implementation of a style guide provides uniformity in style and formatting of a document.”

A style sheet begins where the style guide leaves off. Essentially it’s a document in which you maintain the “right” way to do things for the specific manuscript you’re working on. If it’s a nonfiction manuscript, you’ll want to include formatting issues, header information, and so on. If you’re dealing with fiction, then stylesheets are truly the best way to keep continuity: how many stories have you read in which Mary has black hair on page 14 but red hair on page 362?

Now I expect that most writers who are reading this will by now be shrugging it off. Isn’t that something my editor should do? Why should I be bothered?

There are a couple of reasons you should create a style sheet:

• It’s the kind thing to do. I didn’t create a style sheet for a recent novel, and doing so would have saved both the editor and myself a great deal of time, as I had to change some of her changes back to the original, and explain why. It would have been far better to have made that explanation upfront.
• It’s the efficient thing to do. How many times have you had to flip back in your book to remind yourself of a minor character’s last name, to check a date, or to remember what you said about Aunt Sophie? Easier just to turn to your style sheet to find the answers.

For nonfiction writers, style sheets are essential to keep you on track and eliminate long conversations with your editor when the time comes.

Many if not most publishers have their own style sheets (sometimes referred to as style guides); ask for them. It’s always easier to set up a manuscript correctly than to go back in and correct it later! Do that, and you’ll be … beyond the elements of style!

Today someone on one of my professional internet discussion lists brought up one example of the author-editor relationship gone badly wrong. A Croation writer had a translated short story published in an American literary journal, only finding after publication that a number of the edits were unwarranted—and uncommunicated to her:

“As no one contacted me about any edits, I presumed everything was fine with the story. Imagine then my astonishment when the Anthology arrived at my doorstep (in December 2010) and I realized that a diligent Dalkey editor not only made quite a few interventions in the text, but they also inserted (!) a piece of text that changed/determined sex of my narrator! As this gender/sex ambiguity is one of the thematic pillars of my story, this benevolent editorial intervention (which made the narrator a man and the relationship heterosexual!) completely changed my story, its aims and effects. To be sure, the author is not, nor can they be, the owner of the interpretation, but surely they should be the owner of their text? The copy editor’s job is not to rewrite or retell the story in their own words—but rather to intervene as little as possible and if they do change something, to check with the author before the text goes to print.”

She has some legitimate gripes, there’s no question about that. The editing was heavy-handed at best and unconscionable at worst. I understand her rage.

But … let’s look a little earlier in the story:

“All seemed well; no one from Dalkey contacted me except to sign a contract that allowed the publisher to use the story, or parts of it, for their advertising and other purposes. There was nothing in the contract about the text of the story itself, nothing about editorial interventions, proofreading etc.”

Aye, there’s the rub. There was nothing in the contract about the text of the story itself…”.

She learned, the hard way, the value of spelling everything out in a contract signed by both parties. I learned it the hard way, too. In my case, the offer on my second novel came in and I couldn’t sign the contract quickly enough. They’re paying me to do what I love? Hot damn! I’m not sure that I even read the contract. I lost a lot of control (like the Croatian author, above), and I lost a lot of money.

I learned a lot.

So here’s the hope: learn from those of us who had to learn the hard way! Never, ever, ever make an assumption about what a publisher is going to do. Have it spelled out. If it isn’t spelled out in the contract you’re offered, insist on it—or at least open a conversation about your needs and decide on the basis of that conversation whether to sign the contract. Most publishers are willing to negotiate points on their contracts; and it’s in everyone’s best interests to be absolutely clear about what the relationship you’re going into entails.

Don’t make assumptions, ever. And then you’ll be … beyond the elements of style!

And I’d like to talk about one of the issues the author raises. She calls it “hitting a brick wall”—when the agent loves the book, but just cannot find a home for it:

“Or, even worse, I may have a manuscript I’m crazy about. I can visualize the book, the cover, the marketing– everything. As I begin to shop it, the response is tepid at best. It doesn’t happen often because I’m pretty good at spotting commercially viable projects, but when it does, it is definite #agentfail. It’s that brick wall again.

“There’s nothing I hate more than having to report back to the client and suggest that the manuscript go into a drawer. Sometimes that’s the reality, however. It may not be forever because the market is ever changing, but it’s always difficult news to hear.”

Yeah, it happens. My agent loves my novel In Dark Woods. He loved it from the first moment he read it. He was excited about it. He remains excited about it. The problem is that he first read it eight years ago, and it’s not yet found a publishing home.

And that’s not all that uncommon. It’s not me—I’m a good writer with a decent track record. It’s not him—he’s a brilliant agent. It’s not the book per se—everyone who has read it raves about it. It’s something else, something that perhaps can’t be contained in a sentence, a thought, an answer. And that’s where the frustration comes in.

I will say it again: write what your heart desires, what the muse tells you, and write the best material you possibly can. And send it out into the world. But don’t quit your day job, don’t let your self-esteem ride on publication, and don’t ever ever give up. And then you’ll be … beyond the elements of style!

Well, of course on one level, the question is absurd. It’s like saying how much one can use the color yellow, or Paris, or women. What I tell my clients and students (ad infinitum, it sometimes seems) is that the story is what matters. To use an SEO expression, content is king. Your primary function as author is to be a storyteller, and however you can best tell the story is where your focus and energy should be, not whether semicolons or adverbs should be inserted.

So my immediate sense, in reading the question, is to say: how much vulgarity? As much as the story requires.

Still, it’s a decent question when one is going to be seeking publication. Some publishers won’t allow characters to swear. Others revel in it. What’s the writer to do?

My friend Bob Sanchez, author of the wonderful and award-winning When Pigs Fly, has this to say:

Vulgarity is a useful tool for establishing character, but it’s best to use it judiciously. Don’t pepper your manuscript with profanity. If you have a particular character swear a couple of times, it will be clear what type of person he or she is–so you don’t have to show them doing it a lot to get the idea across.

In my novels, the good guy never swears, and the bad guy does it enough to reinforce the readers’ dislike of him–but that’s just my approach. Editors will cut you some slack, depending of course on the nature of your novel. Overuse of swearing is not only a turnoff, but the words quickly lose their impact.

As for characters being gleaned from real lives, don’t be wedded to the idea that they have to be true to reality. They have to be true to your story. Never mind “reality” unless you’re writing non-fiction.

Wise words to think about … let the story be in the driver’s seat. And then you’ll be … beyond the elements of style!