by Allie Harrison
How so, you might ask?
Any grand story can be lost amongst page after page of grammatical errors and misspellings. It can also be hidden within flashbacks or unnecessary back story or even characters that react in ways they shouldn’t. And these are all things that can be cleared up by a great editor.
No matter how much the author learns about editing, it is the author’s job to write the story, not necessarily edit it. And having an experienced second person with editing skills read it is worth the time. A good editor can eliminate those nagging questions that might bother the reader and keep her from buying another book by that author. At the same time, a great editor can help eliminate the unnecessary words that bore the reader enough making it easy to put the book down, which is the last thing an author wants.
And let’s face it, the author looks at her story as her baby and she is hesitant to change anything about it, because she feels—like any mother would—her baby is perfect. The editor, on the other hand, looks at the story from the reader’s viewpoint, looking at how well the story flows, how well the characters react in a given situation, whether things make sense, and how tightly all the loose ends get tied up. The editor sees more than just the story written. The editor sees within, as well as beyond, the story.
So should every story written be submitted to an editor? If the author is planning on publication, the work should at the very least be read by a second person, and I don’t mean a relative. I mean someone with a critical eye who can be honest, although not hurtful.
A very good editor (Eve at Hart’s Romance Pulse) edited my Montgomery Manor, which is Book Two of my Haunted series which is scheduled for release February 24, 2016. And because I love haunted houses and ghosts and romance, I loved the story I’d written. I loved it even more after seeing the comments and suggestions made by my fabulous editor. I see the forest now as well as the trees! And I’m thankful to work with such talented people who help me perfect my own gifts.
I based Montgomery Manor on a bed and breakfast I visited a year or two ago. The manor is a huge, creepy bed and breakfast inherited by Quint and Meg Falkner. It has a haunted past filled with murder, hidden treasure, secret rooms, and endless corridors. At one point Meg even closes her eyes and enjoys a moment alone in a dark hallway only to feel a sensual touch on the back of her neck. She opens her eyes to find no one there. Have you ever experienced anything close to that?
With the work a great editor, I was able to take the sensuality and suspense and the ghostly appeal of this story to the next level. I was able to create a hero worthy of the status. Please step inside Montgomery Manor and see for yourself. Meet Quint Falkner and discover for yourself whether he’s a loving husband, a murderer, or a ghost. I dare you…
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Allie's Newest Release: Montgomery Manor
When soulmates Quint and Meg Falkner inherit moldering Montgomery Manor, they are in way over their heads. With a bit of faith and strange push they cannot ignore, they jump head first into bringing the large, compelling house back to its original grandeur.
But something is different...something is...wrong. Quint isn't acting himself, and Meg keeps seeing visions, images of the past seeping into her very soul. When Meg becomes the target of a mysterious, dangerous admirer, her world implodes, leaving her vulnerable to the otherworldly inhabitants of the house...the very house calling out to her, its secrets begging to be uncovered.
Endless corridors, echoing darkness, and hidden treasure weave together in this tale of everlasting love and second chances.
Can Meg and Quint make a new life for themselves in Montgomery Manor, or will Montgomery Manor's secrets tear them apart forever?
Available Here: Amazon
After all, she did own the house, or at least half of it. Just as she could stay here whenever she wanted, she could also look wherever she wanted.
She gave one last quick glance about the large room but didn’t see Quint anywhere, otherwise she would have told him she needed to find a quiet place to get some air. Instead she wandered away from the party. It wasn’t difficult. Other partiers were either caught up in their own conversations or busy studying the house and the décor. She found a small stairway, and ascended. After walking a long, dark, dusty hallway filled with tools and ladders, Meg realized she was in the part of the house Quint continued calling the North Wing. It was the part of the house he hadn’t refurbished or remodeled yet. It was quiet and dark and a bit colder than the rooms she just left, suffering from years without heat or cleaning or maintenance. She welcomed the cooler air.
Though echoes of the party drifted up to her through the darkness, for the moment, this place was what Meg needed. Quiet from the storm of the party downstairs, and the emotions pinging through her. She made her way to the windows at the end of the long hallway, and slipped off her shoes, allowing the bare floor to soothe her aching feet.
The view from the window captured her gaze. Through the steady rain and lightning of the storm, she saw the neglected gardens filled with weeds and trees and shadows. She heard the surf crashing against the nearby rocks and knew, without a doubt, that on a clear day, this window would offer a magnificent view. For now, she could only see the part of the parking lot lit by the streetlight.
She took a deep breath and inhaled the heavy scent of must and the lumber stacked nearby.
She closed her eyes and pressed her head against the chilly glass.
A slight frigid breeze flowed through the hall. Had someone opened a door? She didn’t open her eyes. The chance to rest against the chill of the glass was simply too good. What did she care if someone else snuck up here for a moment alone?
He moved her hair slightly. She could have sworn she felt Quint’s familiar touch. There was a soft touch to her neck; like the touch of a feather. It could have been fingertips. It could have been lips.
She sighed. So Quint had followed her to steal a moment alone. Wonderful…
She waited a few heartbeats, but the soft touches didn’t continue. Meg opened her eyes and looked over her shoulder.
She was alone in that dark, cold, musty hall.