Sample Edits

Marcie McEachern (click here to visit her website), a sweet heat contemporary romance author, was kind enough to let me use her story to illustrate what the editors might do to your story, once it's accepted. The words in blue are the new changes. I hope you find this enlightening.

A First Snowfall’s Gift The Gift of a First Snow

By Marcie McEachern

Leanne had just finished her mug of hot cocoa when the doorbell chimed. She stood from her cozy spot on the sofa. Who’d be out in this cold? She opened the front door, and her heart leapt at the sight of her handsome visitor. He’d been the first person to welcome her at the community center’s “Senior Singles” group when she moved up north a few months ago, and he’d quickly become a close friend… and her secret crush. “William! To what do I owe this surprise?”

William flung his arms out wide. “Happy first snowfall!”

Leanne leaned out over the threshold. “Well, would you look at that!” In the soft glow of the street lamps, millions of snowflakes swirled, floating to the ground floated down in a mesmerizing dance.

Merriment twinkled in William’s hazel eyes. “Care to take a walk with me?”

“Let me just grab my hat and coat.”

A few mMoments later, when Leanne stepped out onto the front porch, as William handed her a shiny silver gift bag. “Happy first snowfallSomething to commemorate the occasion.”,” he said softly.

“First snowfall gifts? I certainly didn’t receive any of these living in Phoenix. Just think of how many presents I’ve missed out on in my lifetime!”

William chuckled. “It’s a tradition I started in my family years ago. Go ahead and open it.”

Leanne reached into the bag and pulled out a sapphire colored emerald-hued scarf. Fingering the plush knit, she wrapped it around her neck. “This is so lovely, William.”

“I’m glad you like it.,” he beamed. “The color perfectly matches those beautiful, bright blue green eyes of yours.”

Butterflies swarmed in Leanne’s stomach. “How thoughtful. Thank you.”

William offered her his arm. “Shall we?”

Oh, yes, we shall! Smiling, Leanne slipped her hand into the crook of his arm, and together they stepped out into the gently falling snow. The quiet of the late evening was broken only by the crunching of snow under their boots as they strolled along the deserted street.

“MightyIt’s peaceful, isn’t it?” William asked.

“It’s magical. I feel like I’ve stepped into a fairytale or a scene from The NutcrackerThe Nutcracker.”

“The Nutcracker The Nutcracker, hmm?” William abruptly stopped walking. “A waltz with the snowflakes then!” He bowed slightly and held out his hand in invitation.

Laughter bubbled up from Leanne’s chest as she. Oh, William! Your fun-loving nature certainly makes me feel young again. She placed her hand in his, and with a myriad of snowflakes drifting serenely down around them, they began to dance. Leanne relished the closeness. William hummed a tune as their feet shuffled through the accumulating powder, and after a couple minutes, he gave her a little dip as a finale.

Leanne giggled like a schoolgirl. He grinned, and they continued their arm-in-arm promenade up the tree-lined lane toward the park.

“It really is a winter wonderland out here.” Leanne breathed in the scent of wood smoke and gazed at the trees’ branches, thickly coated in white.

[sic] “To think that I didn’t even know it was snowing! I would have missed all this magic if not for you.”

“Thank you you for joining me. Even the The best things in life are better with someone special by your side,…don’t you think?”

Leanne’s stomach somersaulted. Could William possibly have feelings for me, too? Could William possibly have feelings for her too?

Soon they reached the park’s gazebo and stepped under the shelter, which glowed with strings of twinkling white lights.

William removed his flat cap and tucked it under his arm. Taking both of Leanne’s hands in his own, he gazed into her eyes. “I must confess, Leanne, the snow isn’t the only thing that’s falling here. My heart has I’ve fallen in love with you a little bit more each day since we met. I’m hoping that tonight is just the first of many first snowfalls that we celebrate together.”

Despite the chilly temperature outside, Leanne felt her heart melt. She smiled widely. “I think I’d like that very much, William.”

“It’s probably a bit late in our lives for me to give you my class ring or letter jacket.”, huh?” he said with a dimpled grin.

Leanne laughed. “I don’t know about that. I might like to wear your jacket it, especially if it matched my new scarf.”

William chuckled. “If I ever find it in the attic, it’s all yours.” He reached up to gently cup her cheek in his hand and, with a wink, said, “As for a ring, maybe there will be one of those in the future. But for now, Leanne, …will you be my girl?”

She couldn’t keep the blissful smile from her face. “I’d like nothing better.”

William pulled her into his warm embrace, and with her cheek against his chest, Leanne sighed in contentment. Another chance for love in this season of life? I’d barely dared to hope for such a gift! Another chance for love in this season of life? It felt as fresh as the fallen snow!

“Happy first snowfall, William.”

“Happy first snowfall, my dear. And now… how about a first kiss?”

The Nuts and Bolts of Love

by Marti Attoun from the February 24, 2020 issue

Tagline: While helping her best friend at the local hardware store's birthday bash, Gloria finds a treasure she never expected...a new chance at love.

Observations: I really liked this story. I thought the author did a wonderful job setting the scene of the hardware store. Just check out this paragraph:

Today, the old hardware store had officially been a fixture in town for 100 years. Beneath a "Happy 100th Birthday" banner swinging from the pressed-tin ceiling, people visited and snatched up Nora's homemade cookies, plucking bargain paintbrushes and putty knives from galvanized washtubs.

See what I mean? You really get a sense of the setting.

I loved this part:

"...I don't think I've seen you in the store before. I'm Michael Bauer by the way. Third-generation owner of this historic hodgepodge."

Gloria laughed and introduced herself. "I'm shocked you don't remember me--I bought a mousetrap here in 1993."

LOL!

It's been a while since I talked about showing versus telling, and there was a perfectly wonderful "telling" paragraph where the author summarizes their conversation. If you're writing a longer piece of fiction, it might be better to actually show this conversation happening in real time, but because these stories are only 800 words, sometimes you need shortcuts like this conversation summary.

Who doesn't love seeing a male character fumble about awkwardly because he's nervous? Not me! I love that and the author does a great job of it here. When I see a guy in this situation, it's adorable and endearing.

Photo by Daniel Bentley via Flickr CC license

When Life Gives You Lemons

by Kate Willoughby

I was cleaning up my desktop when I came across something I wrote last summer. I really loved this story and hoped Woman's World would too but, alas, it was not accepted. I thought I may as well post it here so someone reads it besides Patricia. LOL

When Ramona saw the lemonade stand manned by two little girls, she had to stop. Almost fifty years ago, she and her sister had spent several Saturdays one summer similarly occupied with a wooden stand that their father built them.

One of the little girls waved enthusiastically. Grabbing her wallet, Ramona got out of the car and approached the card table with a poster taped to it. The poster, decorated with big daisies and hand-drawn glasses of lemonade, said, “All profits go to the Halfway Home Shelter.”

“Boy, am I thirsty,” Ramona said.

“Then try our lemonade!” the younger girl exclaimed. She wore a pink T-shirt with a kitten on it.

The front screen door to the house opened and a handsome man about Ramona’s age, presumably the girls’ grandfather, came out.

“I’d love some lemonade,” Ramona said. “Especially since the money is going towards a good cause. What are your names? I’m Ramona.”

“I’m Olivia,” the one in pink said.

“I’m Grace. We raised twelve dollars yesterday, but we want to triple that today!”

“My granddaughters are nothing if not ambitious.” The man smiled as he laid one hand on each of the girls’ shoulders. Ramona noticed he wasn’t wearing a wedding ring. “I’m Tom,” he said, “Tom Richardson.”

Ramona liked the merry twinkle in his brown eyes and his short salt and pepper hair.

Grace tugged on Tom’s shirt. “If we’re going to triple our money, we need a fresh idea, Granddad,” she said.

“You know,” Ramona said, eyeing their canister of just-add-water mix. “I just happen to have lots of personal lemonade stand experience and I might be able to help you increase your sales.”

The girls gasped. “Please tell us! Please!”

Grinning, Tom met her gaze over their heads and all of Ramona’s nerve-endings zinged with awareness. Although her husband had passed nine years ago, she hadn’t been attracted to a man in ages.

“Let me taste the product first.”

She took a sip and nodded thoughtfully. “This is good, but we can make it much better. My grandmother made the best blueberry lemonade in the state. People came from miles around to get some. It was so good that the Queen of England herself bestowed the special title of ‘Duchess of Deliciousness’ upon her.”

The girls stared at her with wide eyes.

“I think I saw something about this on the nightly news. Didn’t the First Lady have her over for tea at the White House?” Tom asked, spontaneously adding to Ramona’s tall tale.

“I believe so,” Ramona said, stifling a laugh.

“Grandpa, let’s go buy some blueberries right now!” Grace said. Olivia nodded eagerly.

“Hold on,” Tom said. “I don’t think it’s as simple as just dropping blueberries in our lemonade.”

“It isn’t,” Ramona agreed. “If you want to make lemonade as good as Grandma Esther’s…”

“We do!” both girls exclaimed.

“You have to make it from scratch. Fresh lemons, fresh blueberries. You should put that on your sign, too. ‘Blueberry lemonade, made from scratch!’”

“Wait. Are you saying you’ll actually share the Duchess’ recipe with us?” Tom asked with exaggerated shock.

Ramona had to laugh. “Of course, I will. The Duchess was always generous with her recipes. I also happen to know of a blueberry farm where you can pick your own and get more for your money than at the grocery store.”

The girls clapped their hands in delight as their grandfather laid out a plan to go to the blueberry farm the next day, bright and early. “That way,” he said, “we can come back home, make the lemonade and be selling it by the time it gets hot and people get thirsty. In the meantime, you can make your new sign, like Ramona suggested.”

Brimming with excitement, the girls abandoned the stand and ran inside.

Tom chuckled. “Thank you so much, Ramona. I think your recipe will give this little enterprise a real kick in the pants.”

“My pleasure. The memories I have of selling lemonade with my sister are priceless.”

After getting his email address so she could send him the recipe, she turned to go, but Tom said, “Say, if you’re free tomorrow, would you like to come with us to the farm? And maybe help us with that first batch?”

Their eyes met and Ramona felt a thrill she hadn’t felt in a long time.

“I’d like nothing more,” she said, her heart filling with hope.

Photo by Amy Gizienski via Flickr cc license