A Proofreading Exercise With a Twist

The following proofreading exercise is designed tobalance, moving in fits and starts, using the trees
prepare you for the eventuality of proofreadingto steady himself.
fiction. Now, proofreading factual documents is aFrom behind him, from the direction of the
relatively straightforward affair. Proofreadingburning farmhouse, a shriek. John recognised it
fiction is altogether a different kettle of fish. Ininstantly. It was the feral woman. He could
fact, the more experience you have proofreadingremember her name now: Olivia Priestly. And the
factual documents, the more difficult you're likelytall man with the pocket-watch eyes, he
to find it when you are handed, say, theremembered his name, too.
manuscript of a novel.Abaddon.
How do you proofread fiction? In a very realAs he stumbled down the hill, John prayed. Prayed
sense, it isn't something that can be taught.and cried.
Better to just have a stab at it and then seeProofreading Exercise: Solution
what happens.Okay. Did you find any errors? Of course, you did.
The 'solution' to this exercise follows on from theThere were all those fragments, for a start. And
exercise itself.what about all those sentences beginning with
Good luck.'and'? And what about this little beauty: "Downhill,
The Proofreading Exerciseabout three or four hundred yards away, what
For a couple of seconds, John thought he wasmight have been a road or a river, it was
lying in his bed, crawling out and away from theimpossible to say at this distance, in the dark."
shards and splinters of a particularly vividHow many pieces of information are we trying to
nightmare. Something about a tall man withsqueeze into one poor little sentence?
pocket-watch eyes and a feral woman who ateOf course, you're right. This little chunk of
broken glass like it was candy. Something about anarrative contains all those errors. However, as a
fire, an explosion. Horrible. A horrible nightmare.proof reader with some 20 years of experience, I
And then he felt the cold, wet grass threadingwouldn't have requested a single correction. Why?
through his fingers. And the smell of burningBecause this is fiction. This is creative writing. And
timber scratched at his nostrils. And the pain in hiscreative writing can bend, and even break, the
shoulder flared suddenly. The pain in his shoulderrules. Creative writing is about pace and
where the tall man with pocket-watch eyes hadatmosphere, about creating a narrative which
shot him with an antique pistol.draws the reader in and drags them along. It isn't
John jerked to his feet, spun around, trying to geta corporate brochure or a press release. The
some sense of where he was. A forest, lacedpreceding piece is both fast-moving and
with smoke. Night time. Uphill, through the trees,informative, no easy task. It also captures the
he could see a burning building. The old farmhouse.central character's sense of confusion, then panic,
Where they had taken him, the man and thewhilst remaining eminently readable. If we were to
woman. The fire had claimed all but its frame andapply the strict, technical rules of grammar in this
that looked about ready to collapse. Downhill,case, we'd kill the story, a crime for which our
about three or four hundred yards away, whatemployer (be it novelist or editor) would never
might have been a road or a river, it wasforgive us.
impossible to say at this distance, in the dark.So, the twist in the tale of this little proofreading
If it was a road, there might be cars. There mightexercise is that even though there were errors,
be people, someone to help him. Someone tothere was nothing for a proof reader to mark up.
save him.Okay, so it's not exactly 'The Usual Suspects' but
He started down the slope, side-on to keep hisI'm a proof reader not a novelist.