Content Editing for Nonfiction
Content Editing for Nonfiction
Editing content for nonfiction is challenging because it's not as "cut and dried" as editing content for fiction. While different genres and different styles require an editor to pay attention to different aspects of the text, there is a relatively static set of rules for editing content in fiction writing. Nonfiction editing has an even larger number of approaches. For one, different studies require that content be presented in different ways. Different fields require different sets of proofs for arguments. Even the language required for academic writing varies from subject to subject. However, we've come up with a solid base from which you can begin to edit any work of nonfiction.
We're going to split our coverage of content editing into two categories: content editing for the arts and content editing for the sciences. Then we'll provide some more generalized information for editing any nonfictional document, regardless of its purpose. It will be up to you to remember that this information is by no means exhaustive. There are thousands of books about editing, proofreading, and content development alone, not to mention the thousands of specific books about editing particular types of documents and texts. Our job here is to provide you with what you need to get started, but nothing can replace the experience you get by reading and editing as many different types of documents as possible.
By "the arts," we generally mean editing content concerning the visual, literary, and performing arts. We can even stretch the definition to include philosophy and theology. As we will see in a little while, no matter what discipline an author writes for, much of the process is the same. However, there are key differences in the very nature of the arts and sciences that make the process of developing an argument slightly different for each.
First, we'll briefly consider objectivity in writing about the arts. Then we'll look at how meaning is constructed in language and communication. Finally, we'll look at what influences meaning and the ways in which a person writing about the arts must defend their arguments.
The question mark in the title shouldn't dissuade you from thinking objectivity isn't necessary, but it definitely operates a little differently in the arts. How often have you heard someone say of art, "It's all subjective anyway" or "What does it mean to you?" Writing for the arts is tricky because there are no laboratories in which we can test our theories. The laboratories are the classrooms in universities throughout the world. They are the very minds of the people who create criticism of the arts and, indeed, art itself.
But this doesn't mean that arguments cannot be made or that points cannot be supported. Instead of relying on experiments and hard science, writing about the arts must provide solid contextual and textual evidence. Before we get too far into providing evidence, let's look at some of the ideas that inform the way we communicate.
Semiotics is an extremely important development in the study of language and communication. It can be a complex subject, so we're going to keep it simple. Let's get to some definitions, and then we will elaborate.
Semiotics: The study of signs and symbols and the meanings behind these signs and symbols
Sign: Anything that is used as a stand-in for anything else: a picture, a word, a letter, a color, or even a physical object (giving an olive branch as a "sign" of peace)
Signifier: The form that the sign takes
Signified: The idea or concept the sign represents
It may seem as though a sign and a signifier are the same thing, but please note that something is a sign only when meaning is attached to it. A flower is just a flower until a person gives it to another person to indicate his or her love for that person. So, why is this important?
Semiotics helps us understand that all communication works on two levels: the literal and the symbolic. Things have a literal meaning (the denotation), but they also have a meaning that is unique to each individual and that is attached to the feelings a sign invokes (the connotation).
Think of it this way. The word cup has a literal meaning. It's a vessel that holds a liquid a person drinks (denotation). But when you read the word cup, your mind forms a very specific image (connotation). You may think of a particular cup that was your favorite when you were a child, or a cup you recently bought at the store, or the cup sitting in front of you as you read.
The feelings that a sign invokes are based upon an individual's history. They are based on where they were born and where they grew up. They are based on their preferences and tastes and the preferences and tastes of those by whom they were influenced.
For the most part, this phenomenon goes unnoticed. But when editing for the arts, this often comes to the forefront. After all, the arts are primarily made up of the use of signs to represent things. The arts, unlike the sciences, invoke our feelings in a much more direct way. When editing, it is important to keep this in mind. Here are some questions that an editor might ask when considering word usage and content.
How does the phrasing of a particular concept affect the ideas that the author is trying to defend or argue?
If the author is critiquing a piece of art (be it literature, physical art, ballet, or theater), are there other possible meanings that the author has not considered that could be just as valid?
If the text is a novel or short story, is there language in the text that can be interpreted in ways that the author does not intend? Can that language be strengthened?
What are the social, historical, and cultural forces that might feed into the argument overall?
That last question requires a little bit of examination. Let's look a little closer at what we mean by social, historical, and cultural forces.
One thing that makes writing for the sciences quite a bit easier is that the author or experimenter has almost total control over that which he or she is examining. Obviously, there can be factors that are unaccounted for. But for the most part, things are relatively stable. In the arts, this is never the case. For lack of a better phrase, nothing in the arts happens in a vacuum. Even if the creator of a piece of art has given an explanation of that piece of art, we cannot necessarily take his or her word for it. Briefly consider The Lord of the Rings as an example.
J. R. R. Tolkien never denied outright that The Lord of the Rings was influenced by his experiences in the First World War and the circumstances of World War II. However, he did deny that there were allegorical representations of those wars in the text. Even so, it would be naïve to take his word for it. After all, the main antagonist in the trilogy comes from the east, just like the main antagonists in both World Wars. The main antagonist in his text is a maniacal megalomaniac bent on world domination, just like Adolf Hitler. Faramir, son of the Steward of Gondor, waxes poetic about the individuals who fight for Sauron and indicates that many of these men are fighting because they authentically believe it is right, just like historians have said of the soldiers on both fronts in both World Wars.
As much as an artist may like to believe that a work is entirely his or her own, we know better. The study of semiotics allows us to look at individual words, sentences, and even entire texts as cohesive units operating on multiple levels. If an author does not consider these factors in his or her critique of a piece of art, we know the content is probably not as solid as it needs to be.
The last thing we want to look at when writing for the arts is the evidence the author provides to support the content of the text. A little bit later, we'll talk about support again, but in a more general way. With regard to the arts, there is almost a greater burden of proof on the writer of criticism and theory because there are no hard and fast "rules" for art like there are for the sciences. An experiment only needs to be repeated a few times before results are verified. A painter can paint a picture of a flower in an infinite number of ways and never be "wrong." If a critic of the arts or a theorist wants to write about the inferiority or superiority of a particular method, they must provide sound reasons for doing so.
Briefly consider literary criticism as an example, specifically criticism of Shakespeare's works. A Shakespeare scholar must take into account the nearly 400 years worth of criticism and theory that has already been written if he or she wants to argue for a new and different way of reading Shakespeare. The critic must provide quotations and examples for almost every assertion that he or she makes. There is certainly room for new ideas, and this does not mean that a critic cannot take theory in a new direction. But even in the case of revolutionary criticism and theory, the foundation of these ideas is always built upon a series of commonly accepted ideas. The critic is responsible for coming up with a new way of thinking about those commonly accepted ideas.
By "the sciences" we generally mean the study of that which is testable and provides explanations about the world (and the universe) in which we live. This can also include social and behavioral sciences (history, sociology, anthropology, and so on).
However, just because you don't know very much about the content doesn't mean that you can't edit the document with relative ease. Let's look at a few things you can do to ensure that the scientific document you are editing is of the quality both you and the author desire.
In terms of language, it's fairly easy to make a scientific document objective, often times much easier than it is in a paper for the arts. While it is better that academic documents avoid the use of personal pronouns, removing personal pronouns from a scientific document is not enough to ensure objectivity.
A scientific document is one of the few places where the passive voice should be used because the passive voice makes a text impersonal and removes the actor from the equation. It is that impersonality that scientific documents desperately need. The word "objectivity" demands as a pretext that something be impersonal. We don't need to know that "Dr. Smith poured the mixture into the solution," we only need to know that "the mixture was poured into the solution." Who did the pouring doesn't matter in the least.
Consistency is important on many levels, but unfortunately, people tend to only think about consistency in terms of grammar. Writers and editors need to think about consistency in terms of content as well. The easiest way to ensure consistency is to ask the following two questions:
Is the goal of each part of the text to identify and talk about one consistent topic? The idea here is to avoid any tangents or points at which the intent of the essay is compromised by superfluous information. Oftentimes, writers will stumble upon a piece of information that may be important in a general sense but is not particularly applicable to the topic at hand. Authors will then try to force that point into a discussion that would be better served with fewer words.
Is the language used to talk about this one consistent topic in and of itself consistent? Look at the terminology of the essay. Are different technical aspects, different terms, and different acronyms used in a consistent fashion? This becomes especially important when a document makes use of numerous acronyms and abbreviations.
The introduction of an essay or longer work of nonfiction is where all the necessary "set-up" for the rest of the essay is done. It gives the writer an opportunity to grab the readers' attention and pull them into the discussion at large. Whether editing for the arts or editing for the sciences (or anything in between), a brief but thorough introduction is essential. The amount of detail will depend greatly upon the length of the document, but this doesn't mean that we can't assess what content is necessary for a proper introduction.
A proper introduction should lay out, in rough detail, what the document will address, as well as the general structure of the text. It's called an "introduction" for a reason. It serves to introduce the reader to both the text and the ideas presented in the text. Let's examine a few things that every introduction should include.
A good introduction should include the following:
Important Terms: This may be more prevalent in scientific texts (because these generally include more specified terms than texts for the arts or humanities), but nevertheless, a solid explanation of recurring terms of importance to the text should be carefully identified and explained. There is no better way to lose readers than to use unfamiliar terms without any context or explanation. While an author should not explain everything in the introduction, there should be enough description to get the reader started.
Primary Concepts and Ideas: This is somewhat related to the thesis statement. Before the reader dives headfirst into the text, he or she should have a good understanding of what is to come. For the most part, there should be no surprises. The idea here is to make what's often referred to as a "known/new" contract with the reader. Provide something that is generally "known," and then move on to information that is "new." By laying out the primary concepts of the text, the author prepares the reader to learn new information later on.
Methods: Again, whether the text is written for the arts or for the sciences, the reader should have a good idea of the process that the author went through to compile the information he or she is reading. Did the author read many sources and develop a new theory, or is the text an explication of an old theory? If it is a paper for the sciences, did the author conduct his or her own new research? If the paper is for the arts, has the author abandoned traditional evaluations of the item or items in question?
The "Why": This one is very simple. Did the author have a reason for writing? Does this come across not only in the text at large, but clearly and succinctly in the introduction as well?
The Thesis: This is the central argument of the document. It provides the purpose for writing. Without a thesis, a document is generally worthless. This is very closely related to the why, but provides a more specific and detailed answer. Answering "Why?" is not enough. The author must also answer, "What is the purpose of the paper?"
Think of the essay as a physical body and of the introduction/thesis as the brain of this body. Every body needs a skeleton in order to be able to function properly. The skeleton provides structure for the body and protection for the brain. The skeleton doesn't need to be elaborate or complicated, but it must be solid and it must be consistent throughout the body. But enough with the extended simile! What exactly do we mean?
Each paragraph should contain a clear topic, often in the form of a single sentence, which the rest of the paragraph seeks to expound upon. And there should only be one idea per paragraph. Out of all the general problems with content, this is probably one of the most frequently occurring problems with academic essays. Think of the topic sentences of paragraphs as miniature thesis statements. If an essay has more than one thesis, it becomes muddled and lacks cohesion. So it is with individual paragraphs.
Essays should follow this general structure.
1. Thesis Statement
Topic Sentence 1
Topic Sentence 2
Topic Sentence 3
Obviously, this could continue indefinitely, and there could be even more subdivisions than are listed here. But if you memorize this general structure, the rest will be intuitive. We'll soon provide yet another, more detailed version of the outline above.
When purpose and structure have been readily established, a close and careful examination of the support for the essay is necessary. If we follow the previous simile of the text as a body, the support would be the bloodstream delivering essential nutrients to the skeleton and the brain. Without these nutrients, the skeleton becomes weak and the brain feeble. But again, enough with the simile! What do we mean by this? What should we consider when editing support for a nonfictional text?
The first and most important thing to consider is the suitability of the support for the text overall. Do the case studies, anecdotes, quotations, and experiments provided in the essay properly match the overall argument? It is often the case that information initially provided by the author is tangentially related to the topic. Just as the topic sentences should provide direct support for the thesis, so should the support in individual paragraphs provide support for the topic sentences of these paragraphs. Look at the following hierarchy.
Thesis Statement
Topic Sentence 1
Support 1
Support 2
Support 3
Topic Sentence 2
Support 1
Support 2
Support 3
Topic Sentence 3
Support 1
Support 2
Support 3
By following the hierarchy on the preceding page, an author or editor ensures that there is a solid relationship between each paragraph or chapter in the body of the text and the text at large. But the process does not stop there. This is the point at which almost all major elements of the essay should be properly assessed, including any tables, figures, images, or lists.
Determining whether they are appropriate for the argument overall is the first step. The next step is determining whether they are appropriately placed. These decisions are very contextual and require careful consideration. Is the essay better supported by presenting the ideas first and examples second? Is the essay better supported by presenting the ideas and examples at an even pace? Is there enough support?
Return to the idea of the "known/new" contract. Has the author provided enough "known" information and explication? Does "new" information overwhelm the reader at any point in the essay? Once the support for the essay has been fully fleshed out, it's time to move on to the connective tissue of the essay.
To continue our comparison of the text to a body, we can imagine transition sentences as pieces of connective tissue that hold the body together. They allow the parts of the body to move independently and yet help retain a singular purpose. Literally, they show connections between ideas in a text that all serve one purpose: to support the thesis of the text.
Transition sentences can be anywhere in a text, but they primarily show themselves at the ends and beginnings of paragraphs. In fact, topic sentences often serve a two-fold purpose: they refer back to ideas previously discussed and look ahead to new ideas about to be discussed. Without this back-and-forth, a text will seem disjointed and scattered. On the whole, it may appear to have good or even brilliant ideas, but it will be difficult to see how these ideas relate to one another.
At times, all an editor needs to do is move back a step or two and see if the essay needs reorganization. Entire sentences and even paragraphs will need to be created in order to tie all the ideas together. Whatever the case, ensuring that this connective tissue is in place is the final major step in solidifying the body of the essay.
We're not going to lie. Conclusions can be frustrating and difficult to write. When all is said and done and it's time to pack it in, there's still that one final piece of work to do. But it doesn't have to be this way. Just like the rest of the text, there is a general formula to follow when reviewing the conclusion.
Here are a few dos and don'ts for editing conclusions.
Do . . .
. . . solidify the tie between the thesis and the main support of the essay. Demonstrate (not repeat) how the major ideas of the text are related to the thesis.
. . . provide some kind of "call to action." Whether you are writing for the arts or for the sciences, the final key to demonstrating the purpose of the text is showing how your argument relates to the world at large. If writing for the arts, how does what the author has written apply to the study of the arts overall? If writing for the sciences, how does what the author has written affect the study of the sciences overall?
. . . keep the language simple. After reading an in-depth text examining the intricacies of a specific subject, it is helpful to the reader if you can simplify the language with which the text ends.
Don't . . .
. . . include any new information. The reader should not come to a concluding chapter or paragraph only to be provided with another piece of support for an argument or a new set of data.
. . . simply repeat the thesis. Although it is true that a conclusion should restate the main idea of the text, many writers will simply repeat their thesis and main ideas without making many changes or attempting to rephrase these ideas. Repeating something does little to provide new insight into an argument and will seem very redundant to the reader.
. . . focus on trivial points or pieces of support. While you don't simply want an essay to end with a one- or two-sentence conclusion, you don't want to talk about every single aspect of the text.
Now that we've examined the major components of nonfiction texts, let's quickly look back at logical fallacies and see how these come into play in nonfiction writing. Then, we'll look at a few last miscellaneous items.
Fallacies are easier to identify in philosophy, theology, and the sciences than they are in writing for the arts, but this doesn't mean that they aren't found virtually everywhere. Because the arts tend to have a more elusive "meaning," as we previously discussed, it is much more difficult to identify when someone is committing a fallacy. However, there is a way to knock out a great many logical fallacies (though not all logical fallacies) by simply taking the time to ask three simple questions.
These three questions are perfectly structured for editing in both the arts and the sciences and will help you identify whether a fallacy has been committed. Again, this won't take care of all logical fallacies, but it will certainly take care of a great number of them.
Here are the three questions an editor can ask to avoid multiple logical fallacies.
Is there a direct relationship between the evidence and the outcome, or is the relationship implied? An implied relationship between two things does not necessarily mean that these two things are related. Additional evidence is required. Think back to our Tolkien example. If we had simply said, "Tolkien lived through both World Wars, so there must be a connection between those experiences and The Lord of the Rings," we would be relying entirely upon an implied relationship between the two. Instead, we provided several examples of parallels between the World Wars and the plotline and characters of The Lord of the Rings. It's okay to start with an implied relationship, but without evidence to support the implication, this relationship remains unproven and speculative.
We can apply this same question to writing about the sciences. All scientific hypotheses begin as speculations based upon implied relationships. Hypotheses then require evidence and experimentation so that they may become valid theories. For example, a scientist may observe a relationship between the ingestion of certain chemicals and the development of certain diseases. But without testing whether there is a consistent and provable pattern, there is no way to tell the public at large that they should or should not ingest these chemicals. Cigarette smoking is a perfect example of this phenomenon. It took decades of research to prove that there was a link between the development of lung and heart diseases and cigarette smoking, even though the implication was extremely convincing.
Are other possibilities considered? We don't need to go into too much detail here because the concept is pretty simple. Unless possible counterarguments are thoroughly anticipated, an argument is readily subject to possibly devastating counterarguments. No matter how certain something seems, all possibilities must be taken into account.
Does the question presuppose the answer? If you approach an experiment or a bit of research looking for the answer you want to find, you'll probably find it. But here's the problem: you'll find it whether it's the correct answer or not. Humans have an uncanny ability to ignore the solutions that they don't want to find, and you don't want to find yourself in this situation. This question is somewhat related to the previous one, but it bears emphasizing because of the possible negative effects on an argument.
Objectivity is essential! While objectivity operates a little differently in documents for the arts vs. documents for the sciences, its overall value is a constant.
While meaning is much more fluid in the arts, remember that it's no less important to provide proof and support for your argument. Proving an argument in the arts can sometimes be more challenging because you don't have the privilege of dealing with black-and-white facts as you do in the sciences. While opinions and theories are welcome and often encouraged in the arts, they have to be backed up with evidence that supports these opinions and theories.
Scientific inquiry doesn't deal with opinions, it deals with physical realities. Even theoretical physics "obeys" this maxim. While we may have no physical referent when we talk about quarks and subatomic particles (at least that we can hold in our hand), we have mathematical formulas, tests done with precise instruments capable of measuring particles far too small for us to see, and years of proven theory that we can base our arguments on.
Writing for both the sciences and the arts requires structure and organization. And again, while the writing for each may vary in many ways, and may call for different types of support, it also demands that the information be delivered in an organized manner.
Last Updated: 09/29/2022