Journey to Publication: On Working with a Sensitivity Reader
It’s a damp fall day in the DC area, and The Skin and Its Girl will be published in six months. September was full of writing six essays tied to the book; October was busy with preparing The Bird’s Eye for launch, plus a bunch of other online updates and book-related activities. Life has been one big spreadsheet lately, so I’m eager to get back to drafting the new novel. As I reflect on the past almost-two years of working with my agent, the acquiring editor, and the publishing team, I realize how busy this year has been and how much I’ve learned on the fly.
In this two-parter, I’ll talk about the important tasks that happened over January–June 2021, between starting to work with an agent and the manuscript’s submission to publishers: a subject-matter (sensitivity) read, revision, and submissions. Because the mention of sensitivity reads can be polarizing, I want to share my experiences and demystify the process.
What is a sensitivity read?
When this topic comes up on online professional forums, participants sometimes explode with skepticism (often of the snide variety, e.g., “Hiring someone to be sensitive—what could go wrong?”). The attitude reflects resistance, often uninformed and defensive.
As an indie editor myself, I’m familiar with the task of reading manuscripts with a focus on specific content—i.e., reading as a woman, queer person, Arab American, and/or other identity lenses to flag inaccuracies or biases and ask questions of writers who don’t share my background.
The work is variously called sensitivity reading, authenticity reading, and subject-matter reading, reflecting a few emphases. Far from the fear of “sanitizing” a story, it can help the material achieve accuracy and integrity as much as any good copyedit can. It can also be emotionally draining to do, but as an editor, I like the work. It’s a collaboration with fellow writers who want to learn and who are committed to respecting both their characters and the readers who identify with them. A book meant for a large, diverse readership shouldn’t alienate or stereotype important groups within its own audience.
When is it needed?
If you’re writing a story—of any genre—that shares almost nothing of your own experience, it is fair to ask why you’re drawn to tell that story at all. If you’re writing about people from a historically marginalized background, there are legit ethical questions about appropriation and power dynamics. It also comes down to the artistic problem of who’s likely to tell it better: someone who has a lifetime of personal experience absorbing the nuances, or a curious newcomer. Others have said all this in more detail and better, so there are notes for further reading in the full version of this post on Substack.