Substantive editing sample 8:
The long first sip

In this sample from a mystery novel, there were a couple of continuity issues. How could Frank be letting the first sip of the coffee stout linger in his mouth while he is talking? Also, it is necessary to establish the Rock Island location of the Diving Duck, some driving distance from Frank’s motel room in Bettendorf.

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This sample is presented here with the author’s permission.

Original
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Sitting in my motel room alone, I was feeling restless and confined, so I went back to the Diving Duck in search of breathing room and companionship. When I got there, Marge and Becca occupied one end of the bar, with several empty stools nearby. I sat down and took a sip of the coffee stout that Pops had just set in front of me. “Hey, Pops.” “Welcome back, Frank.” He reached out to shake my hand. “How’s it going? Found any good stories?” At least Pops was happy to see me. “One or two, I suppose,” was all I could muster. “Geez, you look wiped out,” Marge observed. “You need to slow down and smell the hops, or in your case, the malt.” “Exactly what I’m trying to do.” I let the first sip linger in my mouth: a little malty up front, a hint of chocolate, followed by an explosion of coffee flavor. “Perfect,” I said. Pops smiled and walked away to pour a couple more pints.

Markup
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Sitting in my motel room alone, I was feeling restless and confined, so I went back to the Diving Duck I drove to Rock Island, to the Diving Duck, [OK? see my comment in chapter 3 about the Diving Duck Brewery being in Rock Island 1] in search of breathing room and companionship. When I got there, Marge and Becca occupied one Becca were occupying one end of the bar, with several empty stools nearby. I sat down and took a sip of the coffee stout that Pops had just set in front of me. “Hey, Pops.” “Welcome back, Frank.” He reached out to shake my hand. “How’s it going? Found any good stories?” At least Pops was happy to see me. “One or two, I suppose,” was suppose” was all I could muster. “Geez, you look wiped out,” Marge observed. “You need to slow down and smell the hops, or in hops. Or in your case, the malt.” “Exactly what I’m trying to do.” I let the first sip the second sip linger in my mouth: [it is unlikely that the “first sip” would remain in his mouth (without extensive dribbling) while he made three utterances already. After we read “I sat down and took a sip of the coffee stout that Pops had just set in front of me,” we see that Frank said (1) “Hey, Pops,” (2) “One or two, I suppose,” and “Exactly what I’m trying to do,” all while that “first sip” would “linger” in his mouth] a little malty up front, a hint of chocolate, followed by an explosion of coffee flavor. “Perfect,” I said. Pops smiled and walked away to pour a couple more pints. 1. Some commentary is recursive, and an editor needs to keep track of every mention of a location or any other factor that might affect a story’s continuity. In chapter 3 (25 chapters, 142 pages earlier), there is this commented markup (which refers back to the current chapter 28): I was ready for some company, too, so I drove to the Diving Duck Brewery, Brewery in Rock Island, [suggested insertion OK? in chapter 28, we have Marge saying “If I’m thinking of the right family, aren’t they more from Moline than Rock Island?” (after Frank had asked her if she’d heard of the Starck family); why would she mention Rock Island unless that is where they were right then—during their conversation—and (presumably) that’s where Marge and Becca live?] a place I had been to a few times to many times before. [Change OK? Frank seems to be on friendly terms with a number of people there, so “a few times” is not enough. The reader will justifiably surmise that he had visited Quad Cities a number of times in the past and had frequented Diving Duck enough times to become friendly with Pops and Marge and Becca and the rest.] I got hooked by the craft beer, fresh I was hooked by the Diving Duck’s craft beer, its fresh home-style food, and chatty and its chatty regulars, something that would always be missing from the Applebee’s around the corner. ↩

Result
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Sitting in my motel room alone, I was feeling restless and confined, so I drove to Rock Island, to the Diving Duck,2 in search of breathing room and companionship. When I got there, Marge and Becca were occupying one end of the bar, with several empty stools nearby. I sat down and took a sip of the coffee stout that Pops had just set in front of me. “Hey, Pops.” “Welcome back, Frank.” He reached out to shake my hand. “How’s it going? Found any good stories?” At least Pops was happy to see me. “One or two, I suppose” was all I could muster. “Geez, you look wiped out,” Marge observed. “You need to slow down and smell the hops. Or in your case, the malt.” “Exactly what I’m trying to do.” I let the second sip linger in my mouth: a little malty up front, a hint of chocolate, followed by an explosion of coffee flavor. “Perfect,” I said. Pops smiled and walked away to pour a couple more pints. 2. Here is the resulting text from chapter 3: I was ready for some company, too, so I drove to the Diving Duck Brewery in Rock Island, a place I had been to many times before. I was hooked by the Diving Duck’s craft beer, its fresh home-style food, and its chatty regulars, something that would always be missing from the Applebee’s around the corner. ↩