Tag Archive: Alpha Reader

Last time, I covered what ChatGPT is, what it isn’t, and some things to keep in mind if you choose to use it to help your fiction. Now we’re going to get into how to use it, or other machine learning programs, to aid your fiction. Though, first, I’m going to try to underscore some of the caution I tried to instill in the last post: do not mistake ChatGPT for an unbiased assistant, talking encyclopedia, or genius author.

ChatGPT is Your Tool, Not Your Coauthor

As I said last time, ChatGPT is a particular tool. On his WriterDojo podcast, Larry Correia frequently describes elements of writing as “another tool in your toolbox,” meaning that you don’t have one tool for all jobs, and not all jobs require all of your tools. It also means you should put in the effort to understand the contents of your toolbox; you can technically split a log with a hammer, but that doesn’t make it a saw.

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Don’t Fear the Rewrite

Writing a book can be a lot of work. I’ve talked before about how even a complete amateur can get through a first draft in as little as three months with just a couple hours of work per day, but chances are you were thinking, plotting, planning, and obsessing over that manuscript for months, and probably years, before you ever wrote down the first chapter. That’s a lot of investment, and it’s not uncommon for a first book to take years to write when you’re just starting out (or are named George R. R. Martin, but that’s another story).

When you put that much of your heart and soul into a project, tearing it all down to do it again is daunting. “Will it actually improve?” “Is this the best I can do?” “Why redo it from scratch when the story is complete?” “Can’t I just, y’know, edit it a bit?” “What if I spend more time doing it right the first time?” “If it needs rewriting, doesn’t that mean it sucks and I’m a terrible writer?”

The answer to those questions, in order, are: yes; no; because it’s not actually from scratch; no author is that perfect; then you’re actually wasting time and effort; and stop telling yourself that.

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I took a creative writing course at my first college. I dropped it later, because the professor didn’t know how to actually teach creative writing. That’s not to say that I knew what I was doing; I’d been writing since I was eleven, and by the time I took this professor’s class I was told by one professional author and another English professor that I was publishable, but I (today) wouldn’t consider myself (then) to know what I was talking about any more than that professor. I learned far more from the assigned texts than I did from her.

The problem with many creative writing courses is that they spend a lot of time teaching you what not to do rather than what you should do. That’s a lot easier, I suppose; as I frequently say, writing is an art, not a science. There are a few ways to fail, and an near-infinite number of ways to succeed. It’s easier to talk about what not to do. The problem is that these courses go on and on with their rules rather than treating it as an art form. When I teach writing, I actually approach it the same way one might teach drawing or painting: here’s some stuff to try, and here’s how to refine it. The rules of fiction aren’t the laws of physics.


One such rule, which this professor was quite strict on, is one that many of you will no doubt have heard. Don’t use adverbs. The professor in question was even more specific: “Don’t use -ly words.” Whether she didn’t care about adverbs that didn’t end in -ly or she just thought we didn’t know what an adverb was, I don’t know; it could honestly have gone either way. (You can tell I didn’t enjoy that class.)  Continue reading

Alpha, Beta, Editor?

Over the last few months, I’ve been surprised to encounter several people (including established authors) who don’t know the distinction between alpha and beta readers. As a consequence, this got put into my Stack of Stuff (aka the list of “Gee, I should write a blog post about that” topics).

The most common definition I’ve encountered among authors, fellow editors, and laymen was that an alpha reader was the first reader, and everyone else who read it before publication was a beta reader. That’s wrong; not completely off, mind you, but wrong. I was a little surprised, but it makes some sense that people would think that just from the names. There are other distinctions, though, even among people who know the origin of the two terms.

That same origin might be the cause of some of the confusion, though. The two terms come from software testing, where alpha testing is done during development by professionals while beta testing is conducted with members of the general public. The fact that “alpha reader” and “beta reader” come from something so tech-based might make the terms seem a bit arcane to people not already steeped in this stuff, and the vast majority of people I’ve talked to who didn’t know the definitions weren’t people who considered themselves geeks.

Of course, I learned about the definition so long ago that I can’t even remember how it first came up, only that I knew it was a while before I connected it with “beta test software” and the like. So who knows? Tracking the differences in my friends and coworkers has been interesting, but hardly conclusive. And probably boring to most people, so let’s skip ahead to the meat of the matter.

When you’re looking for an alpha reader, you’re looking for someone who knows about writing. You might ask experts in fields you’re writing about (law, history, medicine, engineering, astronomy, whatever) to read parts of your book before it’s finished, but they aren’t alpha readers. An alpha reader is examining your story, identifying parts that work, making suggestions about parts that don’t, and generally giving you semi-professional feedback. Your alpha readers are generally reading along as you write and rewrite the first few drafts. They generally have to know something about writing themselves, so most alpha readers are either writers and editors or they’re close friends and family who know you and your writing very well. (The most common non-professional alpha reader seems to be the author’s spouse. That probably won’t surprise anyone.)

Like with software companies entering beta-testing phases, you want a beta reader when you feel you’re almost ready for publication. It might not be quite done, but you feel most of what is remaining is a matter of polish and line-editing. You don’t necessarily have everything phrased the way you want it, but you’re done moving chapters around and changing the ending. Your writing might need some work, but your story is finished. That’s when you get your test audience: trusted friends, significant fans, people who would be normally reading the sort of thing you’re writing. They’re a sampling of your audience, and as such they don’t need to have any professional writing knowledge. You just want to make certain that your target audience likes your book.

Oh, that doesn’t mean you can’t have beta readers looking for mistakes, whether they be typos or factual errors. That’s actually encouraged most of the time; in fact, publishers and authors alike, when they send out something to be read, will usually only mention proofreading when they don’t want you to do it.

So where does an editor fall in all of this? That was another source of confusion among people I talked to. The simple answer is that an editor — meaning your editor — is in a different category. If you’re submitting a finished manuscript to a publisher, you’ve probably gone through both alpha and beta reading first. You might have even hired a freelancing editor at some point. You might be discussing ideas with your editor before you even start writing. An editor can come in at any point in the process. Our job as editors is to help you build, create, shape, and entertain. Depending on the project and where you are in it, your editor might be dealing with abstract plot sketching or something as specific as figuring out what word-choice habits a bit character might have in chapter twelve.

But as vital as my job is, I’m only one person — and as I repeat so often I sound like a broken record even to myself, even an editor needs an editor. Cultivate your alpha and beta readers. They’ll catch things that you and your editor miss. They’ll have ideas that you and your editor wouldn’t think of. Usually they won’t be what you want; only you can tell your story, after all, but even knowing what will not happen helps when you’re not certain what will happen. Bouncing ideas off your readers as well as explaining to them why their suggestions won’t work will improve your art.

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