Inventing Reality: A Guide to Writing Science Fiction

Here's an example of how I would proofread and edit your work. Below is a passage with errors in it. Following it is the same passage after I've edited it. The corrections are marked in red. Point your cursor at the correction for a description of what was changed.

Then, as the sun’s gold cast fell directly upon, he spotted three humanoid figures crawling down an ancient draw in the basin ridge. They paused at the bottom, drank deeply from their cantenes before setting off across the saltscape. Waves of heat were trembling upon the cracked plain.

He whimpered. “Isn’t this what I’ve been waiting for all these years?” Tiasale asked himself. He thought of his duties as garden keeper, wondered who would care for the mandar if he left. The reed flute beneath his clothing dug into the skin, and the nose itch had migrated to his sun blistered forehead, but still he did not move, would not until certain the humanoids weren’t a mirage. Yes, that’s what they are, he told himself, a mirage, a test of my resolve, of my worthiness.

The three figures jumped back as a thin Kaida lizard scampered past on two legs across the blistering salt, the frill encircling its neck erect with fear. The Kaida usually unfurled its throat skin to catch brine flies or lure a mate, but as it lay crouched Tiassale supposed they had startled this one in a depression. Then one of the figures tried chasing the Kaida but was too slow; the other two joined him as they sought to corral the reptiloid, which running full tilt barely came up to their knees. It is no mirage, Tiassale told himself. They behave like men.

Once the Kaida eluded them, the figures laugh, their cackling echoing across the basin. The shortest bent over, placed his hands upon knees as the other two drew long draughts from their canteens. No, I must be dreaming this, he nearly said aloud, the heat would burn through all of their boots as they stood upon the salt flat. Perhaps it’s not a test, after all, but a dream.

Here’s the edited version:

Then, as the sun’s gold cast fell directly upon, he spotted three humanoid figures crawling down an ancient draw in the basin ridge. They paused at the bottom, drank deeply from their canteens before setting off across the saltscape. Waves of heat trembled upon the cracked plain.

He whimpered. “Isn’t this what I’ve been waiting for all these years?” Tiassale asked himself. He thought of his duties as garden keeper, wondered who would care for the mandar if he left. The reed flute beneath his clothing dug into the skin, and the nose itch had migrated to his sun-blistered forehead, but still he did not move, would not until certain the humanoids weren’t a mirage. Yes, that’s what they are, he told himself, a mirage, a test of my resolve, of my worthiness.

The three figures jumped back as a thin kaida lizard scampered past on two legs across the blistering salt, the frill encircling its neck erect with fear. The kaida usually unfurled its throat skin to catch brine flies or lure a mate, but Tiassale supposed they had startled this one as it lay crouched in a depression. Then one of the figures tried chasing the kaida but was too slow; the other two joined him as they sought to corral the reptiloid, which running full tilt barely came up to their knees. It is no mirage, Tiassale told himself. They behave like men.

Once the kaida eluded them, the figures laughed, their cackling echoing across the basin. The shortest bent over, placed his hands upon knees as the other two drew long draughts from their canteens. No, I must be dreaming this, he nearly said aloud, the heat would burn through their boots as they stood upon the salt flat. Perhaps it’s not a test, after all, but a dream.