A Visit from the Manuscript Fairy

So, things are quiet around the basement for a few weeks. Finally some time to catch up on everything that wasn’t done in 2006. And many of the years before that. Then on Wednesday, WHAM! My publisher sends me page proofs for my new book, AND the art director from the same place sends me a sketch of the proposed cover art looking for my input. Hotcha!

Man, it is hard to say how good it feels to have these things in my hands. Now the book seems real. It will be in people’s hands before long, and I’ll get to wave it around like a calling card. It was exciting to have the contract (not that I’ve seen the paperwork yet, or received my pathetic advance), and gratifyingly bracing to have the assignment to crank out. But now it feels like something that will someday sit in a person’s hand and keep them company, with amusement I hope. The type, the headings, the alignment bullseyes on the side–it’s the real deal.

The pile of pages was a little intimidating at first. I’ve got four working days to read this through and make any last changes. Four days in which to shine this thing to its uttermost brilliance (because man, a clinker sentence or a misspelled word is going to bug me once it goes to press, and a comic situation that I don’t milk to the high heavens will chew away at my psyche every time I pick the book up). Since it came about 3 pm, I was already too caffeinated to dare approach it. No editorial changes that late in the day are worth spit. I just skimmed the whole thing, noting that they failed to italicize any word that had been marked for it, and waiting for the next morning. And today, I chewed it up for a solid five hours, and can feel the strain in my head already. But it’s a good kind of tired. (Can one say that unironically anymore? Is Letterman done with it?)

It can take so long between getting an idea and actually seeing it in book form that creators understandably shy away from it. You could literally shoot, edit and release a couple movies in the time I’ve been working on this. But the delay of gratification doesn’t bother me. My only regret is that during the long months of writing and rewriting, I simply have no confidence that what I’m doing is worthwhile. Every other human endeavor seems more important than what I’m working on. Daytime commercials about starting my own business from home start to look tempting. I toy with the idea of going to grad school to study volcanoes. I wonder if the neighbors would object to a small chinchilla ranch in the back yard.

But then, the book starts to materialize, and I get that feeling that I’m doing exactly what I should be with my time. Not only that, but all my other ideas seem to be plausible too, and I start to look through old files to find projects to be revived. I’m betting the feeling won’t last very long, but it does feel very nice.

Next week, after I’ve sent all the pages back, I’ll describe more about the book here.

Again I say unto thee, HOTCHA!

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