OR Tips on How to Edit or Review Someone Else’s Work

by Sarah Sally Hamer

So, you publish a book and wait anxiously to see what other people think about it. But, instead of the kudos and praise and coveted stars you are sure the book deserves, you get told that your baby is ugly and you dress it funny. Somebody doesn’t like the name of one of your characters, or they don’t appreciate the research details. Or maybe they are just being mean.

Sigh. Of course, it sends you into a tizzy. Of course, it feels like you’ve just been kicked in the teeth. And, of course, you feel terrible. How dare they rip your book – and therefore you, yourself – apart?

Where does critique meet kindness? Whether it’s a review or edit, whether you are giving or receiving, there is a place where we can practice just being nice to a fellow writer. Even when you really, truly hate whatever that writer has written.

A manuscript is a person’s interior landscape—work made visible, risk taken, voice offered. To edit or review is to foster that offering, not to bulldoze it. After all, a critique or review is nothing more than an opinion. Like noses, we all have one and, like noses, some smell better than others.

Unfortunately, critiquing and reviews are sometimes used to boost egos or purposely harm others. I actually sat near enough to an award-winning, multi-published author to hear her tell her friend that the easiest way to keep someone from asking her to read for them was to destroy them in critique. That was after she’d tried to destroy me and my writing. Thank goodness for good, kind, and caring critique partners! Otherwise, I may never have written anything again. Her confession from years ago does, however, give me pause when I am critiquing someone else. It reminds me of the opportunity to find kind words. 

Other reasons for someone to purposefully give bad reviews could be frustration with our own writing or feeling forced into doing something we really don’t want to do. It could also be that what we’re reviewing really is awful. It could also mean that the person reviewing the book just really doesn’t know what they’re doing. 

But are those good enough reasons to be cruel or unkind?

So how can we review or critique someone else’s stories, and give clear, practical ways by being both honest and kind? How can we help the writing grow instead of shutting the writer down? Here are some things to think about, regardless of your perspective:

• Start with the right mindset – are you in an available space to review or critique? Or to be reviewed or critiqued?
• Begin by believing the person doing the work tried their best, aims to improve, and will benefit from what you say. That stance changes the tone of every comment you make.
• Separate the work from the author. Critique the text; never critique the writer’s worth or intent. Language like “this passage needs…” keeps the focus on craft.
• Adopt curiosity, not certainty. Replace “You must” with “Have you considered” or “What if.” Curiosity invites collaboration; certainty closes it. On the receiving end, try to see the reason for the comment, even if you don’t agree with the comment itself. It could be that there is a problem but the reviewer didn’t know how to express their thought.
• Remember the manuscript’s stage. A first draft needs encouragement plus big-picture guidance. A final draft deserves precision. Match your kindness to the work’s developmental needs.
• Lead with what works. Open with one or two concrete strengths. This isn’t cheap praise; it orients the writer and creates receptivity.
• Prioritize issues. Use a short list: “Top three things to fix.” Writers can’t do everything at once; prioritize clarity, structure, and emotional truth in that order unless otherwise necessary.
• Frame problems as opportunities. Instead of “this is confusing,” say “this could be clearer if…” Then offer a concrete way forward.
• Use “I” statements for impact. “I got lost after paragraph two” beats “You lose the reader.” It reflects the reader’s experience without blaming.
• Be specific with examples and listen to what it is that the reviewer is saying. Quote a sentence and show a revision, e.g., “Try: ‘The house held its breath’ instead of ‘The house was silent’ to tighten the image.” Concrete rewrites teach craft.
• Avoid absolute language. Words like “never” and “always” escalate defensiveness. Replace them with “this part” or “here.”
• Name the effect you want. Instead of “Make it stronger,” say “Aim for more immediacy here by shortening sentences and adding sensory detail.”
• Don’t moralize taste. When you dislike something, say what you felt and why, not that the choice is wrong. “I felt distance in this scene because the narrator steps back; consider a closer point of view” is better than “This POV is wrong.”
• One-line summary. Open with a brief neutral summary of what you think the piece is about. It shows you’ve read with attention.
• Line/edit examples. Provide three targeted line edits or passages rewritten to model your advice.
• Tone & voice note. Comment on voice consistency and whether the emotional register matches the material.
• Encouragement & next steps. Close with a short encouraging sentence and a suggested next step, e.g., “Try a pass focusing only on verbs” or “Let’s rework the opening paragraph together.”

Kindness as Craft

Being nice while reviewing is not about softening every critique; it’s about creating conditions where the writer can actually use your honesty. Kind editing is rigorous and clear. It assumes the writer’s good faith, names specifics, offers options, and preserves agency. The result is feedback that repairs and illuminates rather than deflates.

If you want a simple checklist to keep beside you while you edit, use this:

• Did I start with strengths?
• Are my top priorities clear and limited?
• Did I offer at least one concrete rewrite or example?
• Is my language specific, nonjudgmental, and actionable?
• Did I close with encouragement and a next step?

Kindness in editing and in writing reviews is a discipline, not a soft skill. It asks you to hold both the truth of the text and the dignity of its maker. When you do that, your words become gifts: precise, rooted in care, and built to help a manuscript or a published book stand taller.

Have you reviewed other authors' work? Have you had a particularly good or bad experience you'd like to share?

Sally and several others of our amazing WITS folks will be presenting at the Pen and Potential virtual writing conference on October 24th and 25th: "Creating Creativity: The Soul of the StoryTeller." There's still time to sign up!

About Sarah (Sally)

Sarah (Sally) Hamer, B.S., MLA, is a lover of books, a teacher of writers, and a believer in a good story. Most of all, she is eternally fascinated by people and how they 'tick'. She’s passionate about helping people tell their own stories and has won awards at both local and national levels, including two Golden Heart finals.

A teacher of memoir, beginning and advanced creative fiction writing, and screenwriting at Louisiana State University in Shreveport for over twenty years, she also teaches online for Margie Lawson at www.margielawson.com and for the No Stress Writing Academy at https://nostresswriting.com.  Sally is a freelance editor and book coach, with many of her students and clients becoming successful, award-winning authors.

You can find her at info@mindpotential.org

Featured Image by Deleyna via Canva.

How Proper Body Position Fuels Health and Creativity

by Susan Watts

As both an author and a martial artist, I’ve learned one lesson that applies equally to writing and training: your stance shapes your strength. In martial arts, even the most powerful strike means nothing if your balance is off. In writing, the same applies. Poor body position can drain energy, cloud focus, and shorten your creative sessions. The mind may write the words, but the body carries the process. When you respect that partnership, you protect not just your art, but your long-term health.

Posture as Foundation

Think of your writing posture as a martial arts stance. Sitting upright with shoulders rolled back and chest open allows better breathing and reduces the tension that creeps into the neck and shoulders during long writing sessions. When you slouch forward, your body pays the price.

Here’s the hidden enemy: forward head tilt. Your head weighs about 10–12 pounds in neutral alignment. But for every inch you tilt forward, the load on your neck multiplies:

• 15° tilt → 27 lbs of strain
• 30° tilt → 40 lbs
• 45° tilt → nearly 50 lbs
• 60° tilt → up to 60 lbs

That’s like hanging a heavy kettlebell from your neck all day. Over time, this posture leads to “tech neck,” tension headaches, fatigue, and even early wear on spinal discs. In martial arts, we try to never throw a punch with a bent back or dropped guard. In writing, we should never try to create with a collapsed stance.

The Desk as Your Dojo

The dojo is arranged with intention—space is clear, tools are ready, and alignment matters. Your desk should reflect the same discipline:

• Chair height: Adjust until thighs are parallel to the floor, feet flat. Add a footrest if needed.
• Monitor: Place the top of your screen at or just below eye level, about an arm’s length away. This helps prevent forward tilt.
• Keyboard & mouse: Keep them close, elbows at your sides, wrists neutral (not bent up or down).
• Lighting: Natural light is ideal. If that’s not possible, use a lamp angled to the side to reduce glare and eye strain.
• Space discipline: Clear clutter. One inspiring object (a quote, a photo, a talisman) is better than a pile of distractions.

A properly set-up desk protects your spine and frees up cognitive bandwidth. Instead of wasting energy shifting, fidgeting, or fighting discomfort, your body becomes quiet and steady. That’s when creativity has room to move.

Movement as Recovery

In martial arts, no one holds one stance indefinitely. We pivot, shift, and flow. Writers must learn the same. Sitting for long periods locks joints, slows circulation, and fogs the mind. The solution? Micro-movements and breaks.

• Every 30–45 minutes: Stand, stretch, and walk.
• Wrists: Rotate them gently or stretch fingers wide, then make a soft fist.
• Shoulders: Roll them backward in big circles to open the chest.
• Spine: Stand tall, interlace your fingers overhead, and reach up to lengthen.

These short resets improve circulation, loosen tight muscles, and reset your focus. Just as a martial artist regains energy between rounds, a writer can reclaim clarity between pages.

Breathing and Mental Focus

Posture is the framework, but breath is the fuel. In martial arts, a fighter who panics and breathes shallowly tires quickly, loses focus, and makes mistakes. Writers face the same battle: shallow chest breathing fuels tension, anxiety, and mental fog, while intentional breathing grounds the mind and restores clarity.

Why Breath Matters for Writers

• Oxygen to the brain: Poor posture compresses the diaphragm, cutting oxygen intake. Less oxygen = less mental stamina.
• Stress regulation: Slow, deep breathing activates the parasympathetic nervous system, reducing stress hormones that can cloud creativity.
• Focus sharpening: Controlled breath narrows scattered thoughts, allowing you to move from “mental noise” into flow.

I’ve listed below a few practical breathing techniques you can try:

1. Box Breathing (Calm & Center)
   • Inhale through your nose for 4 counts.
   • Hold for 4 counts.
   • Exhale slowly through your mouth for 4 counts.
   • Hold again for 4 counts.
   • Repeat 3–5 cycles.
     Steadies nerves before a sparring match or before tackling a blank page.
2. Reset Breath (Break Writer’s Fog)
   • Inhale sharply through your nose.
   • Exhale in a slow, audible sigh through the mouth.
   • Repeat 2–3 times.
     The equivalent of shaking out the arms between rounds. It releases tension and resets the mind.

Discipline for Longevity

Writing is a marathon, not a sprint. So is martial arts. Both require discipline not just to show up, but to protect the vessel that carries us forward. By treating posture, desk setup, movement, and breathing as training, you ensure that your creativity doesn’t come at the expense of your health.

The discipline of stance is a form of respect for the craft, for your body, and for the words waiting to be written. A strong writing stance can help you maintain a lifetime of stories.

Takeaway: Treat your desk like a dojo. Align your stance. Protect your neck from the hidden weight of forward tilt. Move often. Breathe with intention. With discipline, your body becomes not a barrier, but a partner in the creative journey.

I will be discussing more about how movement meets mood in the Creating Creativity online conference, October 24-25, 2025. You can check it out at www.penandpotential.com.

About Susan

Under the pen name Michelle Allums, Susan Watts has authored a young adult urban fantasy titled, The Jade Amulet and is currently writing the sequel. Her short stories are also included in the anthologies Christmas Roses and Forever and Always.

Susan has dedicated over four decades to training in multiple martial arts styles and holds the impressive title of a five-time US Karate Alliance world black belt fighting grand champion. Through her karate school, she is able to impart martial arts and life skills. Susan also incorporates her martial arts knowledge into her writing. An avid triathlete, she keeps in shape by running, biking and swimming. She lives in the country with her husband, where they raise animals and enjoy being outdoors. Susan also has three grown children and numerous grandchildren. In addition, she is a CPA and VP of finance for a company in her hometown. 

You can connect with Susan on social media or her website.

Featured image from Depositphotos.

by RJ Redden

There's a specific kind of brain-splitting moment that happens when something you've only held in your imagination suddenly exists in physical reality where other people can experience it.

I know because I've had it twice in my life, and both times left me suspiciously moist around the eyeballs. (Sawdust. Definitely sawdust.)

The First Time: Walking Into My Own Set Design

Way back in the day, I did set design for theatre. The process went like this: get the concept approved by the director, build a physical model to show the actors and designers, then everyone goes off to do their part building it.

Weeks of construction. Painting. Problem-solving. Adjustments.

And then one day, I walked into the theatre from the audience entrance and saw actors rehearsing on the completed set.

MY set. The one that had only existed in my head a few weeks before.

My brain short-circuited. How are there characters moving through a space that was only in my imagination?

Then logic kicked in: Now it's in reality. Now other people can have their own experience with it.

The sawdust must have been particularly bad that day. Really aggressive sawdust. Probably pine.

The Second Time: Building an RPG of My Fictional Tavern

Fast forward to a few weeks ago.

I run a content creation community centered around a fictional interdimensional tavern called the Come Wright Inn. There's a mysterious ninja content creator named Scribbling Sensei. A snarky celestial warlock barkeep. A clockwork owl named Professor Hoot who communicates through specific hoot sequences and occasionally faceswings at particularly frustrating situations.

(Yes, faceswings. Just like a facepalm, but Hoot doesn’t have those. He's a very dramatic clockwork owl.)

My community members love these characters. They reference them. They quote Professor Hoot's hoots. They ask what RJ the Barkeep would say about their creative struggles.

And I thought: What if they could actually play in this world?

Not read about it. Not imagine it. Actually PLAY in it—make choices, go on quests, interact with the characters, earn XP, collect official Come Wright Inn items.

Here's what I did NOT do: spend months learning game design, Unity, programming languages, or hire a development team.

Here's what I DID do: I opened Claude (an AI assistant) and said, "I want to build an RPG of the Come Wright Inn."

We started designing it together. Characters. Mechanics. Quest systems. The whole world-building architecture.

Then I moved over to another software (Replit) to continue building and refining.

And now? It halfway exists. It needs more refining, but it’s featuring heavily in my upcoming release plans. 

My imaginary tavern is a place people can actually visit and have adventures in.

Cue the sawdust. (Definitely oak this time. Maybe some mahogany.)

"I'm a Writer, Not a Game Designer!"

Maybe you’re channeling your inner Dr. McCoy right now. Maybe you said it out loud with the full dramatic hand gesture and everything.

"I'm a WRITER, not a GAME DESIGNER!"

(But you're also secretly leaning forward in your chair, aren't you? Intrigued despite yourself? Yeah, McCoy would do that too.)

Here's the thing: I'm not a game designer either.

But game designs—like world designs, merch designs, card game designs, and all types of creative designs—follow certain formats. These formats can be learned. These formats can be worked with. And more importantly, the blanks can be FILLED IN by you, using the details you've already created in your stories.

Your fictional world isn't hurting for design expertise. It's crying out for you to translate the details you already know into a different medium.

Think about what you already have:

• Character personalities and dialogue patterns
• World rules and internal logic
• Conflicts and resolution paths
• Emotional beats and story arcs
• Visual descriptions and atmosphere

Every one of those things is world-building infrastructure that can be translated into almost any format.

What Else Is Possible?

Once I realized I could build an RPG, my brain started spinning with possibilities.

I could create a Cards Against Humanity-style game using my community's inside jokes and content creation struggles.I’m toying with the name Inn Appropriate Situations. ("Professor Hoot's disapproving hoot" as a card? "Scribbling Sensei's mysterious cape transformation"? The combinations write themselves.)

I could design an idea generation card deck—physical cards people could shuffle and draw from when they're stuck on content ideas. Shuffle, draw, get unstuck. It's like tarot for writers, but with less mysticism and more "oh THAT'S what I should write about."

I could commission a line of bobblehead characters. Scribbling Sensei with his transforming cape. Professor Hoot with his adjustable spectacles AND a faceswing action feature (press the base, watch him dramatically swing his wing to his face in copper-feathered disappointment). RJ the Barkeep with her cosmic drink shaker that maybe glows in the dark because why the hell not.

And here's the kicker: I can actually DO these things. Not someday when I magically acquire new skills. Not if I win the lottery and can hire a team. NOW. With the tools available RIGHT NOW.

Because AI isn't replacing creativity—it's removing the technical barriers between your imagination and reality.

The Real Shift: From Pages to Experiences

For most of writing history, if you created a compelling fictional world, readers could only experience it one way: by reading your words and imagining it themselves.

Want readers to spend more time in your world? Write another book. And another. And another.

But what if your readers could:

• Play a game set in your world
• Use a card deck that channels your characters' wisdom
• Display a bobblehead of their favorite character on their desk
• Participate in an interactive experience that extends your story

These aren't distractions from your writing. They're expansions of your creative universe.

They're ways for readers to have their own experiences within the world you built—just like those actors rehearsing on my set all those years ago.

The Technical Stuff (Way Easier Than You Think)

I'm not going to pretend building an RPG took five minutes and zero effort. It didn't.

But it also didn't require me to:

• Learn to code from scratch
• Take game design courses
• Understand complex software
• Hire expensive developers

What it required was:

• A clear vision of what I wanted to create
• The details I'd already developed about my world
• A conversation with an AI tool that could help me structure it
• Willingness to iterate and refine

The AI didn't create my world. I did that through years of writing and community building.

The AI translated my vision into a format I couldn't have built alone—at least not without investing months or years learning entirely new skill sets.

That's not replacing creativity. That's amplifying it.

What's Hiding in Your Imagination?

Here's my question for you: What world have you built in your writing that's just sitting there on pages, waiting to become something readers can actually experience?

What characters have you created that people could interact with, play as, or keep on their desk?

What inside jokes, wisdom, or world-specific logic could become a card game, a tool, or an interactive experience?

The barrier between "I'm just a writer" and "I'm a world-builder who creates multi-dimensional experiences" is thinner than it's ever been in human history.

You don't need to become a game designer, a product developer, or a tech expert.

You need to be willing to have a conversation with tools that can help you translate what's already in your imagination into formats you never thought possible.

The Sawdust Moment Awaits, Grasshopper

That moment when you walk into the theatre and see actors moving through YOUR set?

That moment when you load up a game and see players making choices in YOUR world?

It's the same moment. The same brain-splitting, reality-bending, suspiciously-moist-eyeball moment.

The only difference is how much easier it is to get there now.

Your imaginary world is ready to become real. Your readers are ready to experience it in ways beyond the page.

The only question is: Are you ready to build it?

Want to hear a bit more from me? I'll be diving into writer’s block at the upcoming Pen and Potential Creating Creativity: The Soul of the Storyteller conference. Come ready to rethink what's possible. I’ll see you there!

About RJ

If your audience engagement feels like you’ve been screaming into a black hole, then RJ is your digital fairy godmother. Her wand wields AI, chatbots, and augmented reality to create engagement so addictive, your audience will forget Netflix exists. She also speaks fluent human in a world obsessed with algorithms.

Find her online at blackbeltbots.com.

Top Image by Deleyna via Midjourney.