The Story Temple · An editorial imprint
An imprint is a promise made before anyone reads a word.
Mine is narrow on purpose. You should be able to hold it up against the actual work and see whether it held.
The promise
Work edited here comes back sounding more like you than it did when it arrived.
That’s the standard. Everything below is how it gets kept.
What it’s up against
You’ve probably been edited toward the middle at least once already.
A writing group member softened a line that was already doing what you wrote it to do. A beta reader queried a rhythm as if it were a typo. An editor put a comma in your grandmother’s mouth that she never once used in her life.
Most of the time, no harm was meant by it. That’s the part that’s hard to argue with. An editor reaches for the default white reader, cuz the default white reader is who they were trained to protect. And the default white reader, it turns out, sounds like nobody in particular.
For Black writers that reach happens more often and it costs more. It now happens alongside a detection and policing culture that’ll look at a sentence with real fingerprints on it and call it machine-made.
So the promise is the specific thing I defend, on every pass, in writing.
What I do
I read for what the work is trying to be before I say what it should become.
Every project starts with a conversation about your voice, your project, your audience and what you’re building. That happens before a single note gets written. Work read against a generic standard produces generic (and mediocre) feedback, and you can get that anywhere.
I name the strength before the cost, on purpose, every time.
My editorial letters establish what you’re already doing well, in specifics, before they get to what isn’t working.
I structure my editorial guidance this way intentionally. You can’t fix a mechanism you can’t see, and the mechanism producing the problem is usually the same one producing your best pages. Writers who over-explain are often the ones with the most in their heads worth explaining. Cut the tendency without seeing what it’s made of and you cut the good stuff too.
I keep a document with your name on it. For my eyes only. (And your eyes too.)
Your register. Your patterns. Your recurring tendencies. What works for you and what doesn’t. It gets updated with every project we work on together and carries forward between them.
Any editor can tell you they preserved your voice. This document is what lets you check the claim. Ask me for it at any point. It’s yours.
I query instead of deciding quietly.
If a choice is ambiguous, you get a note explaining the trade-off and you make the call. It’s your work, not mine.
Keep in mind though, some things aren’t ambiguous. If the nature of what you’re writing calls for history accuracy and editorial dignity, especially for Black people, I will make the change, and inform you of my reasoning.
Every specific gets traced.
Claims go back to a primary source, never a secondary one repeating it. Quotes get confirmed with the person who said them or their office, and never lifted from a press release. Numbers trace back to the original study.
All of it lands in a file with the source, the status and the date, so anyone reviewing the work later can see exactly what was verified and how. This is unglamorous and it’s part of the job.
I tell you when the work isn’t ready for what you ordered.
If you booked a line edit and the structure hasn’t resolved, I’ll say so before I take your money. Line editing a draft that isn’t structurally sound is a waste of your time and mine. I’m a child of Saturn, and I believe in doing things in proper order.
What I refuse
Neutralizing voice, register or rhythm toward a white-audience default
Silent correction where a query belongs
Flattery with no true observation attached to it
Encouragement offered in place of a real read
Line editing a draft whose structure has not resolved
Shipping anything that rests on an unverified specific
How to check me
You shouldn’t have to take any of this on faith.
Ask for your voice document. At any point in the engagement. If it comes back thin, the standard isn’t being kept.
Read the sample edits. They’re published with the reasoning attached to each one. Not only what changed, but what it would have cost to leave it.
Ask a former client. I’ll connect you. Some have come back for multiple engagements, which are all the receipts you need.
Ask about accuracy under deadline. I fact-check for Custom Content from WSJ through The Writing Company, as well as edit for The Writing Company on live deadlines. That reference is available.
Who this isn’t for
If you want an editor who will make your work more marketable by making it sound like whatever sold last, we’ll both be unhappy by week three.
If you want your ego stroked rather than your pages truly read, I’m the wrong editor. I read people’s words for a living, and a real read includes the part you were hoping I’d gloss over.
And if you’re looking for someone to tell you a draft is finished when it isn’t, I’m not for you. I’d rather decline gracefully or accept your “no” to what the work really needs than mislead to you.
Two doors
If you’re a writer or an author, the work is full manuscript assessments, opening critiques, line editing and ghostwriting, project-priced. A manuscript, a fiction series, a newsletter practice, a lifetime of essays or poetry. Start with the editorial intake form.
If you’re a publication or an organization, the work is fact-checking, source verification and full-issue magazine copyediting. Send the scope, word count and the deadline. I’ll come back with a rate and a start date.
Same editor. Same standard. Same mark on the finished thing. Àṣẹ
The Story Temple · An editorial imprint · info@thestorytemple.com