Substantive editing sample 13:
Which direction?

Sometimes a manuscript will contain self-contradictory text. In this mystery novel, there is a discrepancy about how the chocolate shop is oriented to the ice cream shop on Main Street: either two doors down or two doors up.

Skip this sample and advance to the next one in the series.

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

Original
Click to go to the markup.

The article, “Food Fight”, ran in the Chicago Tribune. The first thing that caught my attention was the byline: Helen Kraft. How does she do it? Every time I get a story, she’s already got a piece of it. This story was a pretty good one, though, better than that terrible title would indicate. The owners of Cathedral Ice Cream and Post-Modern Chocolates, Stella Mueller and Ashley Johns, have been feuding for a while, and it’s only gotten nastier recently. It started about two years ago, when Ashley showed up in Galena and bought a building on Main Street, or more likely, her parents bought the building. They’re art dealers in Chicago, well-heeled art dealers. The storefront for Post-Modern Chocolates was just two doors down from Stella’s shop. Stella had a good thing going, with the old-fashioned made-to-order sodas, complete with the fizz, the flair, and the funky glassware. The real star, though, was her ice cream, all of it made from scratch using her own recipes. You could get a scoop in a bowl, on a house-made waffle cone, or in a float or sundae. According to the story, Stella’s shop was always busy. Until Ashley moved in. 23 pages (3 chapters) later Eventually the competition picked up. Someone else opened an ice cream shop, but they weren’t from the area and their ice cream was mass produced by a big company. It closed after a year. Other shops opened up, though, and each time someone came in to sell hand-crafted food, Stella saw her business dip a little. Cathy’s Crazee Cupcakes took away a few customers, as did Pete’s Perfect Pistachios. And then, two years ago, Ashley Johns and Post-Modern Chocolates showed up, moving into a storefront just two doors down from Stella. “I knew I was in for a fight,” Stella told me. It didn’t take long for open warfare to break out. 161 pages (25 chapters) later I walked along Main Street, past the stately DeSoto Hotel, down to Post-Modern Chocolates, then a little further until I found the storefront for Ashley’s newest venture, just two doors down. It was easy to find, thanks to the neon sign in the picture window with the words “Frozen Expressions: An Ice Cream Emporium” spelled out in Gothic script. Ashley somehow managed to snag Stella’s old storefront and was using it to sell her own brand of ice cream. Standing in front of the shop, I realized that, even though I’d sampled the chocolates and been to Ashley’s house, I hadn’t yet been inside the Post-Modern Chocolates store, so I went back to check it out first. 4 pages later I finished my ice cream and left Ashley to attend to her mess. I was ready to settle into a coffee shop for a light lunch and to brainstorm ideas for an article to salvage out of this trip. The Coffee Depot was nearby, so I walked back down Main Street, past the Old Stockade and across Franklin Street to a single-story brick building. It was an intimate place, with just eight small tables and four armchairs. I ordered a salad and an espresso and staked out a table where I could spread out and look over my notes. Not long after I had everything out and ready to read, my phone rang again. It was Jefferson.

Markup
Click to go to the result.

The article, “Food Fight”, ran in Fight,” had run in the Chicago Tribune. The first thing that caught my attention was the byline: Helen Kraft. How does she do it? Every time I get a story, she’s already got a piece of it. This story was a pretty good one, though, better though—better than that terrible title would indicate. The owners of Cathedral Ice Cream and Post-Modern Chocolates, Stella Chocolates—Stella Mueller and Ashley Johns, have been Johns, respectively—had been feuding for a while, and it’s only while, the article stated, and it had only gotten nastier recently. It started It had started about two years ago, years before, [when the narrative present is expressed in past tense (the customary “once upon a time” mode), “before” (or “earlier”) is better than “ago” in denoting “the past of the past”] when Ashley showed up in Galena and bought a building on Main Street, or Street—or, more likely, her parents bought the building. They’re art building. They were art dealers in Chicago, well-heeled art dealers. The storefront for Post-Modern Chocolates was just two doors down doors up from Stella’s shop. [(1) In chapter 35, Frank walks two doors “down” from Post-Modern Chocolates to Frozen Expressions (the same storefront that Stella used to have)—so Post-Modern Chocolates had to be “just two doors up from Stella’s shop.”] Stella had a good thing going, with the old-fashioned made-to-order sodas, complete with the fizz, the flair, and the funky glassware. The real star, though, was her ice cream, all of it made from scratch using her own recipes. You could get a scoop in a bowl, on a house-made waffle cone, or in a float or sundae. According to the story, the article, Stella’s shop was always busy. Until Ashley moved in. 23 pages (3 chapters) later Eventually the competition picked up. Someone up, however. Someone else opened an ice cream shop, but they weren’t from the area and their ice cream was mass produced by was mass-produced by a big company. It closed after a year. Other shops opened up, though, and each time someone came in to sell hand-crafted food, Stella saw her business dip a little. Cathy’s Crazee Cupcakes took away a few customers, as did Pete’s Perfect Pistachios. And then, two years ago, Ashley years before, Ashley Johns and Post-Modern and her Post-Modern Chocolates showed up, moving into a storefront just two doors down doors up [see my earlier comment on this] from Stella. “I knew I was in for a fight,” Stella told me. It didn’t take long for open warfare to break out. 161 pages (25 chapters) later I walked along Main Street, past the stately DeSoto Hotel, down to Post-Modern Chocolates, then a little further until little farther, just two doors down, until I found the storefront for Ashley’s newest venture, just two doors down. venture. [Suggested revision for coherence: “just two doors down” belongs with “a little farther”] It was easy to find, thanks to the neon sign in the picture window with the words “Frozen Expressions: An Ice Cream Emporium” spelled out in Gothic script. Ashley somehow Ashley had somehow managed to snag Stella’s old storefront and was using it to sell her own brand of ice cream. Standing in front of the shop, I realized that, even though I’d sampled the chocolates and been to Ashley’s house, I hadn’t yet been inside the Post-Modern Chocolates store, so I went back to check it out first. 4 pages later I finished my ice cream and left Ashley to attend to her mess. I was ready to settle into a coffee shop for a light lunch and to brainstorm ideas for an article to salvage out of this trip. The Coffee Depot was nearby, so I walked back down Main Street, walked back up Main Street, [at the beginning of this chapter, Frank walked down Main Street to get to Ashley's store; now he would be going in the opposite direction—right? (unless Galena is laid out like a Mübius strip or was designed by M. C. Escher)] past the Old Stockade and across Franklin Street to a single-story brick building. It was an intimate place, with just eight small tables and four armchairs. I ordered a salad and an espresso and staked out a table where I could spread out and look over my notes. Not long after I had everything out and ready to read, my phone rang again. It was Jefferson.

Result
Click to go to the next sample in the series.

The article, “Food Fight,” had run in the Chicago Tribune. The first thing that caught my attention was the byline: Helen Kraft. How does she do it? Every time I get a story, she’s already got a piece of it. This story was a pretty good one, though—better than that terrible title would indicate. The owners of Cathedral Ice Cream and Post-Modern Chocolates—Stella Mueller and Ashley Johns, respectively—had been feuding for a while, the article stated, and it had only gotten nastier recently. It had started about two years before, when Ashley showed up in Galena and bought a building on Main Street—or, more likely, her parents bought the building. They were art dealers in Chicago, well-heeled art dealers. The storefront for Post-Modern Chocolates was just two doors up from Stella’s shop. Stella had a good thing going, with the old-fashioned made-to-order sodas, complete with the fizz, the flair, and the funky glassware. The real star, though, was her ice cream, all of it made from scratch using her own recipes. You could get a scoop in a bowl, on a house-made waffle cone, or in a float or sundae. According to the article, Stella’s shop was always busy. Until Ashley moved in. 23 pages (3 chapters) later Eventually the competition picked up, however. Someone else opened an ice cream shop, but they weren’t from the area and their ice cream was mass-produced by a big company. It closed after a year. Other shops opened up, though, and each time someone came in to sell hand-crafted food, Stella saw her business dip a little. Cathy’s Crazee Cupcakes took away a few customers, as did Pete’s Perfect Pistachios. And then, two years before, Ashley Johns and her Post-Modern Chocolates showed up, moving into a storefront just two doors up from Stella. “I knew I was in for a fight,” Stella told me. It didn’t take long for open warfare to break out. 161 pages (25 chapters) later I walked along Main Street, past the stately DeSoto Hotel, down to Post-Modern Chocolates, then a little farther, just two doors down, until I found the storefront for Ashley’s newest venture. It was easy to find, thanks to the neon sign in the picture window with the words “Frozen Expressions: An Ice Cream Emporium” spelled out in Gothic script. Ashley had somehow managed to snag Stella’s old storefront and was using it to sell her own brand of ice cream. Standing in front of the shop, I realized that, even though I’d sampled the chocolates and been to Ashley’s house, I hadn’t yet been inside the Post-Modern Chocolates store, so I went back to check it out first. 4 pages later I finished my ice cream and left Ashley to attend to her mess. I was ready to settle into a coffee shop for a light lunch and to brainstorm ideas for an article to salvage out of this trip. The Coffee Depot was nearby, so I walked back up Main Street, past the Old Stockade and across Franklin Street to a single-story brick building. It was an intimate place, with just eight small tables and four armchairs. I ordered a salad and an espresso and staked out a table where I could spread out and look over my notes. Not long after I had everything out and ready to read, my phone rang again. It was Jefferson.