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Ms Malibu, my trusty wheels, underwent general maintenance and a major tune-up immediately prior to setting out on the tour. Hoping my gas mileage would improve after that considerable expenditure, I decided to figure mpg throughout the trip. I did the math once, forgot to the next time, wrote down numbers to get back on track, but then, oh, dear, drove away without a receipt and couldn’t remember how many gallons I’d pumped. So, I gave up, admitting that I didn’t really care that much anyway. “Quality is way more important to you than quantity,” my right brain reminded me.
Not that the two are unrelated. It’s just that attaching a value to an experience based solely on how much or how many or how long is only half of the picture. The half I find least interesting.
One of my favorite poems is Madeleine L’Engle’s “Let us view with joy and mirth/all the clocks upon the earth…” She draws strong yet whimsical contrast between human time and God’s time. Those opening lines often come to me when I sense too much emphasis on numbers, too much measuring and valuing them, too much quantifying.
A life view holding quantity and quality in proper balance is a mercy in the book business. At one event on the tour, only two people—a delightful mother and teenage daughter—exhibited any interest in Sunday by Sunday. Their purchase was my only sale. Less lucrative than I wished, but that conversation no less special.
To be sure, I’m not just sour graping or making lemonade. I wouldn’t be able to keep going with my enterprises without a steady response and big scores on occasion. But I don’t ever want to miss blessings that are not reflected in attendance or sales.
Wednesday, December 21, 2011
Saturday, December 17, 2011
Re-entry--Day 10
Maybe I need 26 days for a full re-entry, since that’s how many days I was gone. This harrowing process, tinged by a fatigue deeper than I could have imagined and doubts about my intrinsic value as a human being, is boiling down to an exercise in faith—as life always does. Trusting in a God who loves me no matter what, continually calms me down and builds me up as I try to get a grip after my big trip.
Last night I finally found the moment to fill out a little form and send in my receipt for a special offer of a free garment after buying two others. Had to be postmarked no later than December 14. Shucks.
And my poor car. When I drove Miss Malibu into my driveway the middle of last week, I had thoughts of washing her the next morning to be followed by a thorough inside cleaning asap. Not only has that not happened, but she still labors under hundreds of volumes of books in her trunk, another re-organizing task of inventory and sorting waiting to be done.
Last Saturday morning, a week ago today, I lay in bed listening to NPR, luxuriating in a slower pace to let body and soul catch up with each other. Marvelous--but not the mountain crossed, turning point panacea I had hoped for. So still, I slog on, overwhelmed and ridiculously tired, needing to update financial records and write thank you notes, my house a wasteland of disordered piles of papers and mounds of clothes.
Oh! and then there’s the job hunt. Yikes. I need a real job. With a real paycheck. Soon.
“Be still, my soul: your God will undertake to guide the future, as in ages past.” ~von Schlegel, 1752; Borthwick, 1855; Sibelius, 1899.
Yes, even with myriad undones nipping at my heels, I take refuge in and am bucked up by the fond memories and good results of the tour. And gratitude for special times during Advent with friends and family, and good health, and an attitude toward the unknown that is broader and more positive than my own limited vision give confidence to keep me inching ahead. In all things, give thanks.
NEXT: Book Tour 2011—The futility of quantifying
Last night I finally found the moment to fill out a little form and send in my receipt for a special offer of a free garment after buying two others. Had to be postmarked no later than December 14. Shucks.
And my poor car. When I drove Miss Malibu into my driveway the middle of last week, I had thoughts of washing her the next morning to be followed by a thorough inside cleaning asap. Not only has that not happened, but she still labors under hundreds of volumes of books in her trunk, another re-organizing task of inventory and sorting waiting to be done.
Last Saturday morning, a week ago today, I lay in bed listening to NPR, luxuriating in a slower pace to let body and soul catch up with each other. Marvelous--but not the mountain crossed, turning point panacea I had hoped for. So still, I slog on, overwhelmed and ridiculously tired, needing to update financial records and write thank you notes, my house a wasteland of disordered piles of papers and mounds of clothes.
Oh! and then there’s the job hunt. Yikes. I need a real job. With a real paycheck. Soon.
“Be still, my soul: your God will undertake to guide the future, as in ages past.” ~von Schlegel, 1752; Borthwick, 1855; Sibelius, 1899.
Yes, even with myriad undones nipping at my heels, I take refuge in and am bucked up by the fond memories and good results of the tour. And gratitude for special times during Advent with friends and family, and good health, and an attitude toward the unknown that is broader and more positive than my own limited vision give confidence to keep me inching ahead. In all things, give thanks.
NEXT: Book Tour 2011—The futility of quantifying
Tuesday, December 13, 2011
Itinerary
My pathway for the book tour was established by my birthplace--Woodstock, Illinois. Long ago, in anticipation of publishing the final book, I scheduled a signing at Read Between the Lynes, an independent bookstore (owned by the Lynes family—cute, huh?) on the square in quaint Woodstock. What a cool, full-circle experience, greeting and meeting friends and family there as well as people not previously known. ‘Twas the Saturday afternoon of Thanksgiving weekend which was Small Merchants Day, with a good bit of hustle and bustle and Dickensian-dressed singers wandering the streets and caroling in the stores. I met a woman there who invited me to present a program at a church next time I’m in the area. She had read about Sunday by Sunday in the paper and was intrigued. A 10-year-old boy wearing a winter hat with earflaps and also wearing freckles and a big smile upon finding the book he wanted—from the Wimpy Kid series—was impressed in the most winsome way that I was an author and wanted to know what my books were about and listened intently while I told him. A couple high school girls were equally interested, all to my delight, of course. Met another author and a couple people who graduated from MCHS with my younger siblings. Very special time.
I scheduled the other ten events along my travel route at venues where I knew someone, screwing my Lutheran chutzpah to the sticking point and inviting myself. How grateful I am for eleven yeses! The church of a pastor friend in Lawrenceburg IN outside of Cincinnati was my first stop on a Sunday morning after worship after a 9-hour drive the day before.
Then, I drove to Normal IL to spend time with my cousin and managed to get in touch with a church book club in Bloomington and attend their monthly meeting one evening. My cousin’s wife graciously drove me to the home, and as we walked to the door I mentioned the name of the hostess, which rang familiar to her. Sure enough, when the door opened, there was the man of the house who had worked with my cousin for many years. No readings with the group, just questions about the what and why and how of my writing. I felt richly indulged!
And from Normal, I traveled north to McHenry IL, home territory with many family members still there. At my mother’s assisted living home, several elders gathered for a reading, and I selected flashbacks from the books that took us back to the 1930s, 40s, 50s, 60s, and 70s. Audience participation was excellent, with many poignant memories, happy and sad, pleasant and difficult. Mom was my main consultant on the "olden days" for these sections, so it was a privilege to have her there. And I treasured the presence of my uncle and his wife, daughter, and mother-in-law. Mom’s United Methodist church also hosted me for “An Evening of Advent Readings.”
I wound up for two events at a Lutheran congregation in nearby Arlington Heights, a Chicago suburb, because of my 30+ years friendship with a couple now there. Our acquaintance began in Atlanta when our children were being born, and they paved the way for my visit. I had the treat of worshiping there, along with some of my family, on the First Sunday of Advent. Then, a nice group enjoyed my Advent readings, greatly enhanced by an acting troupe informally assembled for the occasion. The following Tuesday evening I returned to meet with book club members and relished the discussion about the first book. “Why did you kill (So-and-So)?” one reader wanted to know. I had to laugh for a second, but the question led to conversation about “the author as God” and the other side of writing; that the characters and action come from beyond, and often the author’s job is to get out of the way and let it happen. A balancing act of control and acquiescence. So, did I cause that character’s death? Hmm…
From home territory, I continued on to Auburn IN where I once lived for 6 ½ years and where the books are set. Yes, Rose's town is named Shippensforge in the series but when I call up in my mind the physical setting, I see Auburn with its historic courthouse square. My three events there fell on the same day, a Saturday, beginning with a women’s Advent brunch at the church I’d attended, where I’d participated in several Advent brunches before. The experience was bittersweet because that congregation has left our denomination, but the warm welcome back made our unity in Christ a reconciling force. At MJs Bookmark, Auburn’s independent bookstore, I had planned to read excerpts that were clearly set there, including the Ku Klux Klan rally on the courthouse steps that I witnessed. With that startling scene as a starting point, I wove a tale in Sunday by Sunday II. Alas, not enough people showed up to justify a reading, but I appreciated the four faithful friends who did stop by. The evening event at a small Lutheran church in Albion was absolutely a hoot. After a yummy potluck supper, the group of about 20 or so, several of whom were familiar with the series, really caught the spirit and substance of the presentation. Laughter broke out at just the right times, and silent reflection in its proper turn. Pretty much impromptu again, the cast of readers was so fine!
The last stop in Knoxville TN two days later was another going home. My family and I had lived in that great city for 7 ½ years when my 30-something daughters were in elem-middle-high school. The schedule worked out perfectly for me to present my Advent program once again for my former Lutheran congregation’s Advent Tea. Yet another cast joined with me to give a unique performance and all went very, very well. Catching up with a whole crowd of dear friends all at once is intense—wonderful and satisfying but fast and fleeting, too. A couple minutes here hearing about new grandchildren, a minute there hearing about the passing of a dear one, a quick question about a lingering illness or brief report of a wedding is almost excruciating in its brevity. Nevertheless, like the rest of the stops on the trip, this night was rich with relationship grounded in common faith. As I drove through the mountains back to Columbia, I was steeped in memories and in the hope and light of the Advent season.
I scheduled the other ten events along my travel route at venues where I knew someone, screwing my Lutheran chutzpah to the sticking point and inviting myself. How grateful I am for eleven yeses! The church of a pastor friend in Lawrenceburg IN outside of Cincinnati was my first stop on a Sunday morning after worship after a 9-hour drive the day before.
Then, I drove to Normal IL to spend time with my cousin and managed to get in touch with a church book club in Bloomington and attend their monthly meeting one evening. My cousin’s wife graciously drove me to the home, and as we walked to the door I mentioned the name of the hostess, which rang familiar to her. Sure enough, when the door opened, there was the man of the house who had worked with my cousin for many years. No readings with the group, just questions about the what and why and how of my writing. I felt richly indulged!
And from Normal, I traveled north to McHenry IL, home territory with many family members still there. At my mother’s assisted living home, several elders gathered for a reading, and I selected flashbacks from the books that took us back to the 1930s, 40s, 50s, 60s, and 70s. Audience participation was excellent, with many poignant memories, happy and sad, pleasant and difficult. Mom was my main consultant on the "olden days" for these sections, so it was a privilege to have her there. And I treasured the presence of my uncle and his wife, daughter, and mother-in-law. Mom’s United Methodist church also hosted me for “An Evening of Advent Readings.”
I wound up for two events at a Lutheran congregation in nearby Arlington Heights, a Chicago suburb, because of my 30+ years friendship with a couple now there. Our acquaintance began in Atlanta when our children were being born, and they paved the way for my visit. I had the treat of worshiping there, along with some of my family, on the First Sunday of Advent. Then, a nice group enjoyed my Advent readings, greatly enhanced by an acting troupe informally assembled for the occasion. The following Tuesday evening I returned to meet with book club members and relished the discussion about the first book. “Why did you kill (So-and-So)?” one reader wanted to know. I had to laugh for a second, but the question led to conversation about “the author as God” and the other side of writing; that the characters and action come from beyond, and often the author’s job is to get out of the way and let it happen. A balancing act of control and acquiescence. So, did I cause that character’s death? Hmm…
From home territory, I continued on to Auburn IN where I once lived for 6 ½ years and where the books are set. Yes, Rose's town is named Shippensforge in the series but when I call up in my mind the physical setting, I see Auburn with its historic courthouse square. My three events there fell on the same day, a Saturday, beginning with a women’s Advent brunch at the church I’d attended, where I’d participated in several Advent brunches before. The experience was bittersweet because that congregation has left our denomination, but the warm welcome back made our unity in Christ a reconciling force. At MJs Bookmark, Auburn’s independent bookstore, I had planned to read excerpts that were clearly set there, including the Ku Klux Klan rally on the courthouse steps that I witnessed. With that startling scene as a starting point, I wove a tale in Sunday by Sunday II. Alas, not enough people showed up to justify a reading, but I appreciated the four faithful friends who did stop by. The evening event at a small Lutheran church in Albion was absolutely a hoot. After a yummy potluck supper, the group of about 20 or so, several of whom were familiar with the series, really caught the spirit and substance of the presentation. Laughter broke out at just the right times, and silent reflection in its proper turn. Pretty much impromptu again, the cast of readers was so fine!
The last stop in Knoxville TN two days later was another going home. My family and I had lived in that great city for 7 ½ years when my 30-something daughters were in elem-middle-high school. The schedule worked out perfectly for me to present my Advent program once again for my former Lutheran congregation’s Advent Tea. Yet another cast joined with me to give a unique performance and all went very, very well. Catching up with a whole crowd of dear friends all at once is intense—wonderful and satisfying but fast and fleeting, too. A couple minutes here hearing about new grandchildren, a minute there hearing about the passing of a dear one, a quick question about a lingering illness or brief report of a wedding is almost excruciating in its brevity. Nevertheless, like the rest of the stops on the trip, this night was rich with relationship grounded in common faith. As I drove through the mountains back to Columbia, I was steeped in memories and in the hope and light of the Advent season.
Monday, December 12, 2011
Book Tour 2011--the team
Sunday by Sunday’s main character Rose Harris and I glory in teamwork. That’s why she wanted to have a high-five with the guy she inadvertently cut off in traffic to celebrate that they didn’t crash. That enraged fellow, however, did not share my and Rose’s viewpoint that driving is a team sport—and everyone on the road is on the same team. In fact, Rose and I take a team approach to all aspects of life. Our philosophy is, “Let’s all work together with grace and harmony—and be amazed at the results!” In my writing ventures, including the business aspects, I have been delighted by the teamwork that consistently under girds my operations. A great team came together to make my recent book tour happen.
At the top of the list are those people who I laughingly refer to as my “handlers”—the folks at churches and stores and book clubs who replied affirmatively to my inquiry about holding an event at their places and then followed through with publicity and warm welcomes and supplying my every need, sometimes on short notice. When I say “on short notice,” one matter I’m thinking of is the magical assembly of acting troupes to help me with my programs. (Read about the thespian team members when I write on the topic “Drama.”)
My hosts were equally crucial to the economy and pleasure of my trip, and I am deeply gratefully for their generous support along the way. My most extended stay was with the sister who has stayed in our hometown. Late night TV and breakfast conversations with her and her husband, a great storyteller himself, were both merry and meaningful. They’re easy people to be around, with their attentive yet relaxed hospitality. With her help, I upgraded my wardrobe with bargain deals, had the technology I needed to keep things rolling, did some personal banking, and much more. I had several special days and nights with another sister, as well, seeing her new place and relishing time together. Another sister’s family hosted Thanksgiving dinner in their lovely new home. A cousin and his wife provided bread and board and many kind accoutrements for a few days and nights. Reunion was in the air as I was treated to lovely meals and perhaps overnights with my brother, high school friends, former teaching colleagues, and fellow church members from days gone by. New friends, too. “One is silver and the other gold…”
Obviously, there would have been no tour without the books and my marvelous writing/publication team: consultants and resource people for various aspects of the stories, editors—the main one and three others, tech assistants, graphic designer, printer, manufacturer of the gift boxes, encouraging readers and fans. And I can’t forget Kickstarter, the online platform through which I raised the upfront money to publish Sunday by Sunday III. All my backers and all the folks at Kickstarter.com are most definitely part of my team.
I find the world to be a very friendly place. And (indebted to e e cummings) i thank you, God, for most this amazing team!
At the top of the list are those people who I laughingly refer to as my “handlers”—the folks at churches and stores and book clubs who replied affirmatively to my inquiry about holding an event at their places and then followed through with publicity and warm welcomes and supplying my every need, sometimes on short notice. When I say “on short notice,” one matter I’m thinking of is the magical assembly of acting troupes to help me with my programs. (Read about the thespian team members when I write on the topic “Drama.”)
My hosts were equally crucial to the economy and pleasure of my trip, and I am deeply gratefully for their generous support along the way. My most extended stay was with the sister who has stayed in our hometown. Late night TV and breakfast conversations with her and her husband, a great storyteller himself, were both merry and meaningful. They’re easy people to be around, with their attentive yet relaxed hospitality. With her help, I upgraded my wardrobe with bargain deals, had the technology I needed to keep things rolling, did some personal banking, and much more. I had several special days and nights with another sister, as well, seeing her new place and relishing time together. Another sister’s family hosted Thanksgiving dinner in their lovely new home. A cousin and his wife provided bread and board and many kind accoutrements for a few days and nights. Reunion was in the air as I was treated to lovely meals and perhaps overnights with my brother, high school friends, former teaching colleagues, and fellow church members from days gone by. New friends, too. “One is silver and the other gold…”
Obviously, there would have been no tour without the books and my marvelous writing/publication team: consultants and resource people for various aspects of the stories, editors—the main one and three others, tech assistants, graphic designer, printer, manufacturer of the gift boxes, encouraging readers and fans. And I can’t forget Kickstarter, the online platform through which I raised the upfront money to publish Sunday by Sunday III. All my backers and all the folks at Kickstarter.com are most definitely part of my team.
I find the world to be a very friendly place. And (indebted to e e cummings) i thank you, God, for most this amazing team!
Friday, December 9, 2011
Book Tour 2011
Wednesday afternoon, I drove back into town at the end of my 26-day book tour and vacation. A school bus approached from the opposite direction. Figuring Buddy Boy (grandson #1) would be on it, I slowed to let the bus make its right turn and then made my left turn, slipping in behind it. Sure enough, my first grade guy hopped off with a few other munchkins and pranced the short distance to his house. As he opened the side door to go in, I pulled into his driveway and tooted my horn. His excited dance at seeing me was the best welcome home imaginable. And then, my kids and other grandkids gathered for supper and a happy reunion that was oh! so excellent.
The welcome dance and fun of the evening mirrored my own joy at being home, but the trip itself was also part of the joy. Memories and reflections fly around my brain along with tasks and agenda items needing attention. Fatigue and disorganization keep me off balance a bit and measure out a gradual re-entry. As part of the process, I want to capture, nonetheless, the essence of this journey undertaken in conjunction with the release of Sunday by Sunday III.
To cover every detail would be not only impossible but also boring. So, blogging daily (at least that’s the plan), I will hit the highs—and maybe some lows, though there weren’t many of those. The following topics, which I jotted down with some notes on one of the last nights on the road, should provide a pretty good framework for documenting this momentous occasion in my writing adventures. And with a little luck, this document may be entertaining as well (at least that’s the hope).
• The team
• Itinerary
• Family
• Friends
• Drama
• Futility of quantifying
• Infrastructure accidents and incidents
• Serendipity
• Driving
• Weather
• Itinerary/Memory lane
• Re-entry
• Next
The welcome dance and fun of the evening mirrored my own joy at being home, but the trip itself was also part of the joy. Memories and reflections fly around my brain along with tasks and agenda items needing attention. Fatigue and disorganization keep me off balance a bit and measure out a gradual re-entry. As part of the process, I want to capture, nonetheless, the essence of this journey undertaken in conjunction with the release of Sunday by Sunday III.
To cover every detail would be not only impossible but also boring. So, blogging daily (at least that’s the plan), I will hit the highs—and maybe some lows, though there weren’t many of those. The following topics, which I jotted down with some notes on one of the last nights on the road, should provide a pretty good framework for documenting this momentous occasion in my writing adventures. And with a little luck, this document may be entertaining as well (at least that’s the hope).
• The team
• Itinerary
• Family
• Friends
• Drama
• Futility of quantifying
• Infrastructure accidents and incidents
• Serendipity
• Driving
• Weather
• Itinerary/Memory lane
• Re-entry
• Next
Friday, September 16, 2011
The joy of puttering
The joy of puttering around! Maybe I’ll write a book with that name to add to the library of The Joy of ... books—Gardening, Motherhood, Sex. Anyway, today is being a lovely, satisfying day of puttering, frittering, dawdling. Not inactive, high energy, actually, doing whatever I wish.
Worked out with Spike and the Bulldogs, my 35-minute, self-choreographed routine.
Had pancakes and eggs and read more in The Creed, What Christians Believe and Why It Matters for breakfast.
Communicated with friends and readers to try and get my Kickstarter campaign popping. Not looking good to reach my goal, but I’m not going down without a fight. Good to catch up with people I haven’t been in touch with for awhile. And, these contacts held encouragement, which is good because self-promotion and marketing require massive amounts of encouragement—and determination. There are days when I just can’t do it. But today—yes I can!
Listened to the inimitable Dorothea Benton Frank on the delightful Walter Edgar’s Journal. What a hoot that woman is, and she had so much inspiration for writers in their hour-long conversation. I’m going to listen again and take notes.
Cleaned my toaster oven while listening to Dottie and Walter. This is a household task I perform on a regular schedule—whenever the crumbs catch on fire.
Talked with precious daughter for a good while, professional to professional. Joy.
Hung out a load of wash. Another household task that needs doing is to take the dirty clothesline down, scrub it, and rehang it. I also rehang my clothesline on a regular schedule—whenever the sheets touch the ground. (I’m not that good at knots.)
Social networked for awhile and had fun doing it. Days off from the computer, nonetheless, are important, too.
Now, going to look for $5 summer shoes on the sale rack and get what I need to make a batch of oatmealers.
Then, PBS Newshour and Washington Week in Review, my typical wild Friday night—unless the news is so maddening and/or depressing I switch to reruns of Mash (the cleverest program on TV according to me) like I did the other night.
These are a few of my favorite things, and it’s a whole different deal to do them because I feel like it rather than because I must. Luxurious.
This free and easy schedule has a marvelous edge to it following the 12+ hours per day intensity of finishing the composition stage of the book, starting up the campaign, and scheduling events and book tour. I’m beginning to feel human again. Thank you, God, for all of this. All of it.
Worked out with Spike and the Bulldogs, my 35-minute, self-choreographed routine.
Had pancakes and eggs and read more in The Creed, What Christians Believe and Why It Matters for breakfast.
Communicated with friends and readers to try and get my Kickstarter campaign popping. Not looking good to reach my goal, but I’m not going down without a fight. Good to catch up with people I haven’t been in touch with for awhile. And, these contacts held encouragement, which is good because self-promotion and marketing require massive amounts of encouragement—and determination. There are days when I just can’t do it. But today—yes I can!
Listened to the inimitable Dorothea Benton Frank on the delightful Walter Edgar’s Journal. What a hoot that woman is, and she had so much inspiration for writers in their hour-long conversation. I’m going to listen again and take notes.
Cleaned my toaster oven while listening to Dottie and Walter. This is a household task I perform on a regular schedule—whenever the crumbs catch on fire.
Talked with precious daughter for a good while, professional to professional. Joy.
Hung out a load of wash. Another household task that needs doing is to take the dirty clothesline down, scrub it, and rehang it. I also rehang my clothesline on a regular schedule—whenever the sheets touch the ground. (I’m not that good at knots.)
Social networked for awhile and had fun doing it. Days off from the computer, nonetheless, are important, too.
Now, going to look for $5 summer shoes on the sale rack and get what I need to make a batch of oatmealers.
Then, PBS Newshour and Washington Week in Review, my typical wild Friday night—unless the news is so maddening and/or depressing I switch to reruns of Mash (the cleverest program on TV according to me) like I did the other night.
These are a few of my favorite things, and it’s a whole different deal to do them because I feel like it rather than because I must. Luxurious.
This free and easy schedule has a marvelous edge to it following the 12+ hours per day intensity of finishing the composition stage of the book, starting up the campaign, and scheduling events and book tour. I’m beginning to feel human again. Thank you, God, for all of this. All of it.
Friday, September 9, 2011
I just finished my book
I just finished my latest book, Sunday by Sunday III, a little past midnight. I had set last Friday as my deadline. And I take deadlines very seriously, not like Douglas Adams (The Hitchhiker’s Guide to the Galaxy), who claims to “love deadlines…the whooshing sound they make when they fly by.” But, alas, Friday whooshed by, and I wasn’t done. Then, Monday, for absolutely sure. Nope. On Wednesday I wrote to a friend, “I’m finishing III today. I struggled all day yesterday for the exact right ending. Finally, this morning as I boiled my oatmeal, it came.” Discovering how to end it was about being still and knowing that God is God. About “getting out of the way,” as Madeleine L’Engle, and many others, put it. “Art is collaboration between God and the artist, and the less the artist does the better.” ~André Gide
Anyway, yee-haw! God and I are done. Tomorrow I’ll send the manuscript to my main editor and several other readers for final feedback Most of the characters will survive revision, I think, and most of the story lines are pretty well set, and yet, there is more work. (“A book is never finished, you just finally have to abandon it.”) But the hardest part, making it all up, is over. Thank God.
Composition is like taming a lion. Revising is like playing with a kitten. That’s how it is for me. I relish the fine tuning. Tightening is in order, striving to cut out every word that isn’t necessary. Making sure that the action builds on itself convincingly is important, and there will be some backtracking to make that happen. Consistency of facts is obviously important, too—and tricky. As I’ve delved back into the first two books in the series, I’ve discovered three major errors regarding consistency of factual information. I hope no reader ever discovers them, but if someone does, s/he will receive a free book (if s/he keeps her/his mouth shut).
Seriously, typos can occur even with a spell checker and half a dozen proofreaders. Inconsistencies arise even with the search function and diligent editors. A book is a big document, and the writing process complex. I guess for that reason, I don’t get upset or (too) embarrassed when my mistakes are caught. Oops. Darn. Sorry. I re-e-eally wanted it to be perfect, but… Do I sound lame, as though I have low standards? Maybe self-published works like mine typically do have more errors. But I’ll say this: I recently read a hard cover novel by a best-selling, very prominent author published, of course, by a huge publishing house, that had a lot more typos than any of my books. What’s my point here? Maybe I should omit this paragraph.
Anyway, whew. Annie Dillard told authors in The Writing Life, “Your one necessity: …to dangle from it limp, wherever it takes you…” I am definitely limp, so maybe I’ve done something write. Oops, I mean right.
Anyway, yee-haw! God and I are done. Tomorrow I’ll send the manuscript to my main editor and several other readers for final feedback Most of the characters will survive revision, I think, and most of the story lines are pretty well set, and yet, there is more work. (“A book is never finished, you just finally have to abandon it.”) But the hardest part, making it all up, is over. Thank God.
Composition is like taming a lion. Revising is like playing with a kitten. That’s how it is for me. I relish the fine tuning. Tightening is in order, striving to cut out every word that isn’t necessary. Making sure that the action builds on itself convincingly is important, and there will be some backtracking to make that happen. Consistency of facts is obviously important, too—and tricky. As I’ve delved back into the first two books in the series, I’ve discovered three major errors regarding consistency of factual information. I hope no reader ever discovers them, but if someone does, s/he will receive a free book (if s/he keeps her/his mouth shut).
Seriously, typos can occur even with a spell checker and half a dozen proofreaders. Inconsistencies arise even with the search function and diligent editors. A book is a big document, and the writing process complex. I guess for that reason, I don’t get upset or (too) embarrassed when my mistakes are caught. Oops. Darn. Sorry. I re-e-eally wanted it to be perfect, but… Do I sound lame, as though I have low standards? Maybe self-published works like mine typically do have more errors. But I’ll say this: I recently read a hard cover novel by a best-selling, very prominent author published, of course, by a huge publishing house, that had a lot more typos than any of my books. What’s my point here? Maybe I should omit this paragraph.
Anyway, whew. Annie Dillard told authors in The Writing Life, “Your one necessity: …to dangle from it limp, wherever it takes you…” I am definitely limp, so maybe I’ve done something write. Oops, I mean right.
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