By a Professional Editor Who Hasn’t Read the Book in Question
Let’s get this out of the way first: I have not read The Age of Scorpius by Audra Winters. I haven’t purchased it, downloaded a sample, or peeked at screenshots. I’m not here to review or critique the book, nor am I here to weigh in on the validity of the author’s statements about her process. But as an editor who works with indie and self-published authors, I want to talk about the controversy that’s been circulating—not to stoke the fire, but to shine a light on a bigger issue it reveals.
If you’ve been on BookTok, Bookstagram, or basically anywhere in the bookish internet this past week, you’ve likely seen the posts: screenshots of typos, passages labeled “AI-generated,” and videos from disappointed readers who say the book feels unedited or reads like a rough draft. Winters has publicly responded, sharing that the book was ten years in the making, had multiple beta readers, and was reviewed by paid editors.
I have no reason to doubt her claims. In fact, that’s what makes this whole situation worth unpacking.
Because if a book truly was worked on for a decade, read by multiple beta readers, and passed through a professional editor… yet is still being called a “rough draft” by readers — that raises questions not about intention or effort, but about process. Specifically, how editorial distance and professional detachment matter more than many authors realize.
Let’s talk about who reads your book before the world does.
Beta readers are wonderful. They’re often volunteers, sometimes friends or fellow writers, and they can give helpful feedback about what’s working and what’s not. But beta readers are not editors. They are not trained to look for story structure, pacing, character arcs, tonal inconsistencies, or the layers of revision that go into a publishable novel. Some may be able to give excellent insights—but the effectiveness of a beta reader is often tied to their experience as a reader, not as an editor.
Sometimes, too, beta readers are also friends. People who care about you. People who want to be supportive. That doesn’t always translate into honest critique. In fact, it often leads to unintentional enabling: “It’s great!” becomes the refrain, even when a book still needs deep work. That’s not malice—it’s kindness. But kindness won’t save you from a swarm of Goodreads reviews saying your book feels unfinished.
Professional editors, on the other hand, are not your cheerleaders. At least, not in the same way. We’re invested in your success, but our job is to look at the manuscript with fresh eyes and a cold nose—to sniff out what’s not working, even if you poured your soul into it. A good editor will tell you when your pacing drags, when your plot twist doesn’t land, when your characters are inconsistent, and yes—when your prose still reads like a draft.
More importantly, they’ll help you fix it.
One of the biggest risks for authors who’ve been working on a book for years, or decades, is that you become too close to the work. You know what you meant. You know the backstory. You’ve imagined these characters so vividly in your mind that it feels like the meaning is on the page, even when it might not be.
This is where outside perspective is essential. Not just any perspective, but one that is trained, critical, and removed enough to see what you can’t.
If the editor you’ve hired is a friend, someone from your writing group, or someone who’s followed your journey for years, that distance gets compromised. Even unintentionally, they may fill in gaps, overlook awkward phrasing, or fail to challenge choices because they “get” what you were trying to do. That kind of understanding is warm and supportive, but it’s not always what the manuscript needs to grow.
A professional editor who doesn’t know you personally has no pre-existing narrative about who you are, how long you’ve worked on the book, or how many other people think it’s good. They read what’s on the page. They work with what’s in front of them. And that clarity can make all the difference.
There’s also a question of quality control. In a traditional publishing pipeline, a manuscript is reviewed by multiple editors: developmental editors, line editors, copyeditors, and proofreaders. Each with a specific focus and trained eye. In self-publishing, that responsibility falls entirely on the author—and too often, budget constraints mean shortcuts get taken.
Sometimes “editing” means one pass from a freelance editor, sometimes it means a friend with an English degree, and sometimes (let’s be honest) it means Grammarly.
I don’t say that to shame anyone. Editing is expensive. Publishing is hard. But if you’re planning to sell a book, especially at full price, readers will expect a professional product. That means clean prose, coherent structure, and a final draft that feels finished. If your editing process doesn’t deliver that, your readers will notice. And they will say so.
Publicly.
Again, I’m not here to critique The Age of Scorpius. I haven’t read it. And even if every page is rough, I still believe Audra Winters poured her heart into it. Finishing a book—let alone publishing one—is no small feat. The courage it takes to hit “publish” is something I respect deeply.
But this controversy is a cautionary tale for every indie author watching from the sidelines.
It’s not enough to love your story. It’s not enough to work on it for years. It’s not even enough to think you’ve had it edited. Because if your process doesn’t include a truly honest, critical, and professional eye, ideally one that doesn’t know you, you risk releasing something that your readers interpret as a first draft.
And once the internet gets ahold of that narrative, it’s hard to reclaim it.
If you’re an author preparing to publish, here’s my honest advice:
And if you’re overwhelmed or unsure where to start, that’s okay. The editorial world can feel like a maze, especially when you’re doing it alone. But you don’t have to.
At Once Upon a Manuscript, I work with fantasy and romance authors who want to make their stories not just publishable but powerful. If you’re looking for clarity, craft, and honest, kind-hearted feedback from someone who doesn’t know your backstory (but wants to help you tell a better one), I’m here. Let’s talk.