Lessons from Dead Matter

I recently received the dead matter for On the Road to Mr.

Mineo's, so I figured I might as well continue my traditional "Lessons from Dead Matter" blog post.

[Note: "Dead matter" is the term used by the publisher for the stacks and stacks of the manuscript during various stages of production. It is, indeed, very dead.]

I wrote about my Lessons from Dead Matter for Greetings from Nowhere here.

And for The Small Adventure of Popeye and Elvis here.

And The Fantastic Secret of Owen Jester here.

It's a little depressing to see that after writing lots of books, I'm still making the same stupid mistakes. But, hey, that's what copyeditors are for, right? Or is it copy editors? I can never remember.

So, here are some of my lessons from dead matter:

1. Why can I never, ever remember that the following words are one word? (I think I need an editor for that sentence.)

• backyard
• flowerpot
• shirttail
• cornfield
• toolbox
• pigsty
• streetlight

And the following are hyphenated:

• flip-flop
• hickory-nut
• chicken-wire
• run-down

 And that lawn mower is two words.

And it's screened porch, not screen porch.


For this book, it was suggested that we hyphenate gol-dern so as not to confuse it with the word "golden." (I know, I didn't get it either.)

It was also decided that this is the correct version of:

ding-dong doodlebrain

(And I am once again reminded of how good I am at insulting people.)

2. After much debate, diddly-squat won out over doodly-squat and hyphenation was required.

3. Sometimes you sit in a chair and sometimes you sit on a chair. 

For example:
"She plopped down in one of the lawn chairs" was changed to "on one of the lawn chairs."

But "How he longed to go back up there and sit in the lawn chair and play cards all day" was left as is. 

*scratches head and ponders this*

4. I'm forever disagreeing with decisions about commas - not because of correct punctuation, but because of the sound of the writing.

For example, there was a lot of discussion about the following sentence because of the doors of the van being left open (but that's a whole other thing....):

Luther took his fishing rod out of the back of the van, and he and Edsel went inside the restaurant to eat pork lo mein.

I don't like that comma there because I didn't want a pause in that spot. I wanted the sound of the words running on. But either I lost or I gave in, I don't remember which.

The same goes for the following, only it's the opposite situation:

But now, a little glimmer of sadness was starting to buzz around him like a pesky fly.

Copy editor took the comma out. I liked the pause it created, but I agreed to take it out. (See how agreeable I am?)

5. We had a great discussion about the phrase gold-ern criminy cripes.  Evidently, both criminy and cripes are euphemisms for Christ. (Who knew?) Would I get run out of town for using those words in a children's book? Well, the words are still there and I'm still in town, so there you go.

6. Some Southern expressions prove just too confusing for the average bear, so I give up and take them out. One of them is the expression pure-T, which means 100% or completely. Here's the original sentence from the manuscript:

I know she's pure-T red-hot mad at him.

The copy editor wrote in the margin, "purty?"

[Note: I think my Southern writer pal, Augusta Scattergood, says pure-D, instead of pure-T. The Dictionary of American Regional English actually has both. But it shows pure-T as being more prevalent in the Carolinas, which is where I'm from.]

7. Dear Copy Editor: Please leave the word hisself alone.

8. A giant hickory-nut tree casts shadows that move in the warm breeze, like fingers wiggling over the dandelions in the lawn.

Was changed to dandelions on the lawn.

I still don't like it.

9. Stamp her foot was always changed to stomp her foot.

10. And last, but this one is very, very important, there are no periods after:

Ploink

Ploink

Ploink

So there you have it: Lessons from Dead Matter

How come?

Why is it that I have to read a manuscript 89 times before I notice this:

Three little dogs yipped and yapped and raced in circles and threw themselves against the door, snapping at the air and scratching at the screen.

"Stop it, y'all!" Tiny's mother snapped from somewhere inside the house.

Two words: FRESH EYES

Copyeditors

Coming October 2012

Copyediting is the one stage in the publishing process that always annoys fascinates me. How do those people (copyeditors) DO it? They find the most amazing things.

For instance, there's a scene in On the Road to Mr. Mineo's in which an old car is breaking down. 

On one page, there is the following:
Edsel turned the key.
Whirrrrrrr clunk clunk

On the next page:
He turned the key one more time.
Whirrrrrrrr clunk clunk

The copyeditor actually caught the fact that the second Whirrrrrrrr had an extra "r."

Then, on page 29, there is the following:
And something had been making holes in the dry red dirt under the old pig trough.

But on page 119 (that's, um, 90 pages later!):
And out by the Ropers' barn, the little brown dog sat in the rain beside the empty pigsty and howled.

The suggestion was to change to old pig trough for consistency.

Okay, now I'm tired of copyediting. I'm gonna go check Facebook.

Details, details

I'm in the midst of reviewing the copyedited manuscript of On the Road to Mr. Mineo's.

This part of the book creation process can be frustrating but eye-opening.

I'm always surprised at the mistakes I make consistently and the things I learn.

For instance, every time I used the following, I wrote them as two words instead of one:

barbershop
livelong
flowerpots (but flower boxes is two words)
shirttail
cornfields
hayloft
toolbox

I always write lawn mower as one word instead of two.

I forget that the following are hyphenated:

gol-dern (to prevent confusion for kids who don't know the term and might think it should be "golden" ??)
barn-owl (although a copyeditor missed it in one spot, where I had two words. HA!)
chicken-wire
run-down

I gave up on trying to use the expression "pure T". Copyeditor thought I meant "purty."

Those guys don't miss a thing.

On p 2 I wrote "empty doghouse in the yard"
On p 73 I wrote "empty doghouse in the front yard"

On p 2 I wrote "stamped her foot"
On p 42 I wrote "stomped her foot"

I wrote "screened door."
Was changed to "screen door. " (hmmm)

On p 17 I wrote "dern fool bird"
On p 118 I wrote "dang fool bird"

I had written: "greasy car parts and paint cans"
Was changed to "Paint cans and greasy car parts" since the paint cans aren't greasy.

And then, there is the constant inner battle between "diddly squat" and "doodly squat."

Writing is such hard work.

I'm a mind reader

I'm working on a new novel.

I just wrote the following:

Gerald's mother came out the next morning and painted over it but the words still showed through, pale pink on the white fence.

A year from now, a copyeditor is going to want to insert a comma after "it" (...painted over it, but the words...)

I know.

And I will agree.

But I won't like it.

Because I don't HEAR that comma.

Repeat after me

I often joke about how irritating good copyeditors are.

Of course, I jest.

Good copyeditors are the saviors of the book world. It takes an editor to see the forest, but the copyeditors see the trees.

I am grateful for them.

Below is a sampling of the latest irritating, um, I mean, brilliant comments from my copyeditor, the savior (from The Fantastic Secret of Owen Jester).

Notice how many of the queries address the problem of repetitious words.

My bad, as they say....

And notice the comment about page 124. I was so fascinated by this one because I use that expression "A lightbulb went off" all the time. OFF? *forehead thwack* What the heck is wrong with me? Of course, the lightbulb went ON. Duh...

p.5, 2nd paragraph: “The very idea of that poor sick old man up there in the bed not able to do a thing but sleep and eat applesauce and you down here thinking up ways to make my life miserable.” Rep of “up” OK?

p.11: ‘ “Besides,” Viola said. “Frogs only eat bugs…” ‘ OK to change to: ‘ “Besides,” Viola said, “frogs only eat bugs…” ‘ (to show she’s continuing her sentence)?

p.22, 3rd para: ‘ “I know y’all are up there.” That irritating voice slithered up the ladder…’ Rep of “up” OK?

p.22, middle of page: “What’re ya’ll building?” This should be “y’all,” as throughout, so we’re fixing.

p.22, 2nd line from bottom: “…he looked at Owen in a what-now? kind of way.” C says this should be: “…he looked at Owen in a What now? kind of way.” (italicized, cap on “What,” no hyphen)

p.24, middle of page: “First of all, he said it all the time.” Rep of “all” OK?

p.26, middle of page: ‘More than anything, he wanted to say, “Where?” ’ There shouldn’t be a comma after “say” here, so we’re deleting it (‘More than anything, he wanted to say “Where?” ’). Same goes for the sentence below it, which will now read: ‘But he knew that Viola wanted him to say “Where?” ’

p.28: “And they found an old metal thing with a rusty bolt sticking out of it.” And next line: “But none of those things seemed like something…” Rep of “thing’/”things” OK?

p.29, line 6: ‘ “I mean, maybe it was farther up that way.” Travis nodded up the tracks.’ And just below: “Owen looked up the tracks.” Reps of “up” OK?

p.30, middle of page: “…the boys made a pact to go farther up the tracks the next day, if they could ditch that nosy Viola.” C says: “But they don’t go farther up the tracks the next day. Instead, they plan and start building a cage for Tooley. Breaking a pact is a serious thing for boys? Change here to something like “…the boys made a pact to go farther up the tracks as soon as they could.” Or change something later?”

p.32, middle of page: “Clatter. Clatter. Clatter.” Change here to “Clatter, clatter, clatter.” (with commas, lower case), to match usage on p.10? Or change p.10 to match here?

p.33, line 1: “It would be big enough for swimming and jumping.” And a little farther down: “…with room for Tooley to swim in big, big circles…” Rep of “big” OK?

p.35, middle of page: “Earlene’s face turned red as fire as she jammed the duct tape back into the junk drawer.” And next line: “…Earlene stood stiffly beside him, her fists jammed into her waist…” Rep of “jammed” OK?

p.35, 7 lines from bottom: “hoard” should be spelled “horde,” so we’re fixing it.

p.37, just before line break: “Let’s hide this stuff in the bushes and go over to Stumpy’s and make a plan.” And next line: “While Joleen Berkus glared over at them…” Rep of “over” OK?

p.44, middle of page: “Viola stood up and brushed dirt off her shorts.” And 3 lines from bottom: “Viola brushed past the boys and skipped toward the hedge.” Rep of “brushed” OK?

p.45, middle of page: “And then, the sky turned dark, lightning flashed, and the rain poured down…” C asks if we would like to delete the comma after “then” (“And then the sky turned dark…”). Since they’re asking your/our opinion, I’m assuming either way is grammatically fine. Up to you.

p.50, 2nd line from bottom: “You think you know everything but you don’t.” C says: “There would be a pause after ‘everything,’ so OK to add comma?” (“You think you know everything, but you don’t.” Change or stet?

p.52, 3rd para: “…and raced up the path…” And two lines down: “…blinking up at the summer sky.” Rep of “up” OK?

p.52, middle of page: “The back door opened…” Next line: “Her eyes darted from him to Tooley to Travis to Stumpy and back to him.” And next line: “You’re not going back yonder to those train tracks, are you?” Reps of “back” OK?

p.75, 4 lines from bottom: ‘He let out a satisfied “Aaah.” ‘ C says this should be spelled “Ahhh,” so we’re changing it.

p.79, middle of page: “But his voice didn’t sound nearly as sure of himself as he wanted it to.” C says this line doesn’t entirely make sense, in that “his voice” is not “himself.” She suggests changing the line to something like: “But his voice didn’t sound nearly as convincing as he wanted it to.” What do you think?

p.81, middle of page: Currently it all looks like this:

And then . . .
. . . another frog joined in at the same time . . . and then another . . .
Until there seemed to be a whole chorus of bullfrogs.

C would like to break it up a little differently, to read:

And then . . .
. . . another frog joined in at the same time . . .
and then another . . .
. . . until there seemed to be a whole chorus of bullfrogs.

(Although now that I’m looking at it, it seems to me that if we’re going to do that, we should really add ellipses before the “and then another,” too, so that all the middle lines begin and end with ellipses… Anyway, what do you think? Any strong opinions??)

p.82, 2nd para: “A sprinkler chug, chug, chugged in circles…” C says we should italicize the “chug”s here (“A sprinkler chug, chug, chugged in circles…”)

p.85, 6 lines from bottom: “Owen and Travis high-fived Stumpy and they hurried out of the hayloft…” OK to change to: “Owen and Travis high-fived Stumpy, and they all hurried out of the hayloft…” (adding a comma after “Stumpy” and “all” after “they”)? Otherwise, it sounds as if only Owen and Travis hurry out of the hayloft, leaving Stumpy behind.

p.87, 1st line: “Travis let a string of cusswords fly and Stumpy broke off a branch…” C says there should be a comma after “fly” (“Travis let a string of cusswords fly, and Stumpy broke off a branch…”), so we’re adding one.

p.91, line 5: ‘ “I’m allergic to pine,” she said. “And ragweed and pigweed and . . .” ‘ With the ellipses here it means that Viola is merely trailing off in her thoughts, rather than being interrupted by Travis’s next line (“Then you better go home before you die.” (P.S. This is probably my favorite line in the whole book. :) ). If that’s the case, OK to stet. If she IS being interrupted here, we should replace the ellipses with an em-dash (“And ragweed and pigweed and—“). Stet or change?

p.93, line 3: “First, they had searched inside the submarine for some kind of instructions for how to run it.” Rep of “for” OK here? (Perhaps change the second one to “on” or “about”?)

p.95, line 4: “Owen looked down into the cage. Tooley floated in the dirty water, nestled up against the side of the cage…” Rep of “the cage” OK?

p.95, middle of page: “It had been so much fun, trying to figure out if the frog he spotted was his frog. The one with the heart-shaped red spot between his eyes.” Rep of “spotted”/”spot” OK?

p.102, middle of page: “Ah, heck.” C says this should be: “Aw, heck.” So we’re changing it.

p.103, 3 lines from bottom: ‘ “Besides,” he added. “I know Viola better than anybody.” ’ OK to change the period after “added” to a comma (‘ “Besides,” he added, “I know Viola...” ’)?

p.105, line 2: “I decided to come help y’all, after all.” And p.106, last line: “Maybe inviting Viola to help had been a good idea, after all.” Rep of “after all” OK?

p.115, after line break: “While Mrs. Suttles put a smiley face sticker on his Bible passage work sheet…” C says “smiley face” should have a hyphen here (“smiley-face sticker”), as should “Bible passage” (“Bible-passage work sheet”), so we’re fixing them. We’ll also be changing “smiley-face stickers” on this same page, last line, to match.

p.118, 1st line: “Good-bye, Tooley.” C says this should be: “Goodbye” (no hyphen), so we’re changing.

p.120, 3 lines from bottom: ‘…then said, “Uh, see ya,” before heading off up the path after Travis.’ And next line: “Owen picked up the biggest rock…” Rep of “up” OK?

p.124, middle of page: “A lightbulb went off.” Ce asks if this would make more sense as “A lightbulb went on.” (See also p.125: “A lightbulb went off again.”)

p.128, middle of page: “The sound of the submarine falling off of the train.” C says we should delete the “of” after “off” here (“The sound of the submarine falling off the train.”), so we are.

p.136, 2nd para: ‘ “Before launching your Water Wonder 4000,” she read, “there are a few simple tests to perform first.” ’ OK to delete “first” here, since it is redundant in conjunction with “before”? The line would read: “Before launching your Water Wonder 4000 . . . there are a few simple tests to perform.” OK?

p.146, 7 lines from bottom: ‘ “Besides,” Owen said. “That Frog Town idea was dumb.” ’ OK to change the period after “said” to a comma (‘ “Besides,” Owen said, “that Frog Town idea was dumb.” ’)?

p.151, 2nd para: “She flipped to the page with the heading: READY, SET, GO: Starting Your Water Wonder 4000” C says there shouldn’t be a colon after “heading,” so with it all on the separate lines it will now look like:

She flipped to the page with the heading

READY, SET, GO:
Starting Your Water Wonder 4000

p.153, 1st line: “Owen had to admit that when they first sank down below the surface of the pond…” OK to delete “down” (“Owen had to admit that when they first sank below the surface of the pond…”)? C says “sank down below” is redundant, and deleting it here will also avoid the rep of “down” in the next paragraph (“…his somersaulting stomach settled down…”) OK to delete?

p.159, middle of page: “Earlene marched down the hallway, her heavy shoes making a clomp, clomp noise on the wooden floor…” C says the “clomp”s should be italicized here (“…her heavy shoes making a clomp, clomp noise…”), so we’re changing.

p.164, just before line break: “…they were all going over to the railroad freight yard…” And just after the break: “…and hurried over to the bed.” Rep of “over” OK?

Time after time

Twice I have had the misfortune of having an annoyingly alert copyeditor discover that the timeline of a book wasn't right after it had been typeset.

[Note: Please know that I use the word "annoyingly" with nothing but awe, respect, appreciation and gratitude. Seriously, dude.]

After much hair pulling and Oreo eating, I managed to fix things, which is very tricky because at this stage of the book process, you want as few pages as possible have to be changed. (Note: I think I need a copyeditor for that sentence.)

Here is my most recent timeline annoyance (from The Fantastic Secret of Owen Jester, to be published Fall 2010):

P.1: The copyeditor has decided this is Saturday, based on the later chronology.

p.11: This is day two. C thinks it’s Sunday, although there is no mention of church (church on Sunday is mentioned in later chapters), but because they meet in the afternoon (p.17), that’s not really an issue.

p.21: This is day three. C says it’s Monday.

p.34: This is day four. C says it’s Tuesday.

p.41: C says: “Is this still the same day as at end of Ch.6 (Day 4, Tuesday)? Add something to clarify? It should be the same day if later chronology is to work.

p.68, middle of page: “Owen hated Wednesday nights. On Wednesday nights…” So this is Wednesday (day five)

p.73: This is day six, so Thursday.

p.80, after line break: “That night…” C says this is Thursday night.

p.82: This is day seven, so Friday.

**p.83, bottom of page: “The boys huddled together up in the hayloft of the barn all afternoon, planning how they would get the Water Wonder 4000 down to the pond.” C says this has to still be Friday morning (not afternoon), or the time sequence doesn’t work from here to p.109, which is definitely Sunday morning. OK to change the line to something like: “The boys huddled together up in the hayloft of the barn the rest of the morning…” ?

p.87: C thinks this should still be day seven (Friday). Midday?

p.94, before line break: “The boys bumped their fists together while agreeing to meet in the barn later that day.” C says “later that day” should be Friday, early evening.

p.97: C says “Is it now Saturday morning? Day 8? Add something to indicate the day here?” Note the line “By the time the noon-day sun was high overhead…” at the bottom of the page. (Barbara, just for the record, I don’t think you need to tell us explicitly what day it is all the time, as long as the timeline works out.)

**p.98, line 7: “We can work on it some more in the morning, when it’s cooler.” C says: “Change this line to: ‘We can work on it some more in the evening, when it’s cooler.’? It’s now Saturday, and Ch.19 (p.109) begins on Sunday, so they have to come back later this same day for the chronology to add up.”

**p.105, 1st line: “…He and Travis and Stumpy had gotten to the clearing early that morning, when the dew was still clinging to the wildflowers and ferns.” See query p.98. If Ch.19 begins on Sunday, this here can’t be another new morning, but later Saturday evening. Rework?

p.107, after line break: “That night, after dinner…” C says this is Saturday night.

p.109, 1st line: “Owen had begged and pleaded and begged and pleaded to stay home from church.” This is day nine, and obviously Sunday.

p.119: C says this is day ten, Monday. From here on out, the time line works perfectly (yay!).

Monkey mind

Another thing about copy editing [are you sick of this subject yet?] is that it forces you to use your monkey mind (your conscious mind), instead of your wild mind (your unconscious mind).

[Natalie Goldberg's Wild Mind: Living the Writer's Life]

That means that you have to really think about the words in a different way than you think about the story.

It's almost as if the writing is just that: words....

....separate....individual words.....disconnected from the words around them that form a whole (i.e., a meaningful story).

Does that make sense?

Anyway....it can sometimes make me nuts - because when I think about the words so much, I lose the unconscious flow that was the original creation - and then I start questioning myself too much.

I'm currently going through the copy edits of my next novel, The Short, Sad Life of Tooley Graham.

Today I'm thinking about railroad tracks vs train tracks.

I know, I know.....

When I wrote the manuscript, I didn't think about those words.

Sometimes I used railroad tracks.

And sometimes I used train tracks.

And one copy editor says I should be consistent.

And one copy editor says it doesn't matter.

And I have a Post-It note on every page with that phrase so I can think about it.

And the more I think about it....

Good grief....

I need my monkey mind to go away and my wild mind to come back.

Obsessing

Okay, so I wake up in the middle of the night and am thinking about Tooley Graham copy editing and specifically:

When he heard the click clack of her heavy black shoes on the wooden stairs, he clamped a hand over his mouth to stifle a giggle. When he heard the kitchen door swing open, he clamped his other hand over his mouth, his shoulders shaking with a silent laugh.

And then I think:

Wait! Heavy black shoes don't go click clack.

Heavy black shoes go clomp, clomp.

But you can't use clomp and clamp in the same sentence.

So.....maybe.....

When he heard the clomp clomp of her heavy black shoes on the wooden stairs, he slapped a hand over his mouth to stifle a giggle. When he heard the kitchen door swing open, he slapped his other hand over his mouth, his shoulders shaking with a silent laugh.

What do y'all think?

Superstition

Okay, so here's another weird thing about the process of copy editing for me...

I'm very superstitious when it comes to some aspects of creating a book.

Before I can begin the process of writing a book...

....I have to have the perfect title.

And the perfect first line.

And the perfect character names.

Those three elements are critical.

Sometimes, it takes me a long time to get those three things.

Sometimes (most times), I have at least one of them before I have any idea what the story is about.

And once I have all three things, I never, ever change them.

I have this (probably stupid) feeling that if I do, something bad will happen. Heh....

[Side note: I was recently visiting my editor at FSG and was looking at her shelf of works-in-progress. I commented on one of them and she said, "It has a different title now." I was so shocked by that!]

The first (and very critical) sentence of my next book (The Short, Sad Life of Tooley Graham) is:

Owen Jester tiptoed across the gleaming linoleum floor and slipped the frog into the soup.

The copy editor is suggesting the addition of "pot of" (as in "pot of soup") to give the reader the right visual.

I know that makes perfect sense.

I know that "pot of soup" instantly clarifies the image and conjures up the kitchen and the stove and the whole scenario.

I know that that sort of mental image is very, very important.

But it sounds different than that first version that is so etched in my mind.

However, I think I'm finally going to drop my silly superstitions and listen to my more practical mind and make the change.

(By the way, please don't call the ASPCA. The soup is not hot. The frog liked swimming in the soup.)

And then ANOTHER thing....

....about copy editing is that you are sometimes (oftentimes) amazed at the things you didn't see even though you've read that manuscript 498 times (which, of course, is why you didn't see them).

For instance....

[From The Short, Sad Life of Tooley Graham]

When he heard the click clack of her heavy black shoes on the wooden stairs, he clamped a hand over his mouth to stifle a giggle. When he heard the kitchen door swing open, he clamped another hand over his mouth, his shoulders shaking with a silent laugh.

The copy editor suggests "his other hand" instead of "another hand."

(She politely points out that he only has two hands.)

Duh!

Reason #543 why we need fresh eyes on our work.

The problem with copy editing

I have a love/hate relationship with the process of copy editing.

My organized, attention-to-detail self loves it.

But my other self (whatever that is) hates it.

The reason I sometimes hate it is because it makes me obsess about small stuff until I'm so mired down in the trees I can't see the forest.

I remember working on copy edits for Taking Care of Moses and getting all tangled up and agonizing over whether a character skipped up the sidewalk or down the sidewalk.

And wording that sounded so right and natural when it came flowing out of my brain makes me scratch my head and go "huh?" when I read it for the 50th time.

Here's a good example of stupid over-obsessing (can you over obsess or does obsess imply over obsess? Where's my copyeditor? Or is it copy editor?):

Because he knew Viola was right about the staples. And he knew she didn't mean staples like the little ones for paper. She meant those heavy-duty kind like his father used to staple plastic over the windows in the winter at their old house on Tupelo Road.

Now, the copy editor is suggesting: "She meant that heavy-duty kind like his father used...."

And I think that is technically right.

But it just doesn't sound right to me - because that is not the way I would say it - even though I would probably say it wrong.....

.....I don't know.....

And then today I'm obsessing over:

He reached in and scooped Tooley up.

or

He reached in and scooped up Tooley.

I think I need to stop.

I know, I know......

I always feel like my first version is the "purest" and I should go with it - and then I go and over analyze everything.

(And don't go telling me you can't end a sentence with a preposition cause I don't follow no stinkin' grammar rules....)

Shhhh...

....don't wake the baby.


My manuscript came back from copyediting. (The Short, Sad Life of Tooley Graham; spring 2010).

Ruby is napping and I finally have time to tackle it.

The flowers are from my garden.

The tablecloth is the Western States one that I bought on eBay even though I already had the exact same one - because I am such a ding dong brain.

The Post-It note on the Oprah Magazine (Oh, come on....I need a break once in a while) says: r-u-u-u-m-m-m.

That's the sound that a bullfrog makes.

In the first draft, I had ribbit.

But bullfrogs don't go ribbit.

But I didn't know how to describe the sound they make.

So I did a little research.

And the research taught me that they go r-u-u-u-m-m-m.

The reason I wrote it on a Post-It note is so I would remember how many "u's" and how many "m's" I put in there.

See what hard work writing is?

I heart copy editors

Copy editors (or is it copyeditor?) are the most irritating essential human beings on earth.

I love them.

I want to be them.

Even though they can be so dang irritating.

One of the reasons they are so irritating is because they are always right.

And they are so essential.

I loved this article about copy editor Helene Pleasants.

In case you have too many other blogs to read today and are irritated by yet another link (I'm kind of irritating with my use of the word "irritating" today), this was my favorite part:

Her blue pencil struck at redundancy, at confusion, at authorial vanity, at the wrong and the false word, at the unearned conclusion. She loved good writing, therefore she loved the reader: good writing did not cause the reader to stumble over meaning.

I particularly like "authorial vanity."

I know that I am certainly guilty of that.

And I see it in the work of others.

And speaking of redundancy, at the risk of being redundant.... (now these links are really irritating, huh?)

Good copy editors are worth their weight in gold.

The devil is in the details

Speaking of copyediting (see post below), it's an interesting, sometimes frustrating, always important part of the process. The big picture stuff is done - the story is finally in place - and now it's time to pass the baton from editor to copyeditor - to put the final polish on the manuscript.

It never ceases to amaze me how I can read a manuscript 284 times and still miss things that seem so obvious when pointed out.

page 86: Willow looked down at Aggie's canvas sneakers. They were wet and muddy. One of them had a frayed hole in the side and Aggie's little toe poked out.

page 189: Then she put on her canvas sneakers with the holes in the side....

Copyeditor: So, which is it? One hole or more than one hole?

My thoughts: #@*%&

My words: Gee, good catch. Let me go back and fix that.

page 7: Then she moved on to pondering how she was going to fix that clogged drain in Room 4.

page 119: When Loretta's father finished fixing the clogged sink in Room 4...

Copyeditor: So, do you want to use "drain" or "sink"? They should probably be consistent.

My thoughts: #@*%&

My words: Gee, good catch. Let me go back and fix that.

How does she DO that? She is a genius.

It's those little, little details that put the final polish on. Lucky, lucky me to have such a fine polisher.

The devil is in the details.

The sound of writing

Sometimes, to avoid writing, I read about writing. I was recently reading, Nobles Book of Writing Blunders by William Nobles. He talks a lot about the sound of writing - that the reader "hears" the written word.

The rhythm of my writing is very important to me. I consider it critical to my writing voice. But sometimes, I have to fight a bit to keep the rhythm where I want it to be.

I just finished up (I hope) the final copyedits for my next book (Greetings from Nowhere - Spring 2008- thus, the name of this blog). Now - FSG has the best copyeditors on the planet. Bar none. The B-E-S-T. I drive them crazy with my "Southernisms." (They're from New York. I forgive them.)

They know their stuff. They miss nothing. They punctuate punctuate punctuate. But sometimes, I just don't WANT to punctuate. It ruins the rhythm of my writing.

For example, listen to the difference between:

1. Sometimes, when her father was sleeping on the couch, Willow would tiptoe down the hall to his bedroom that used to be Dorothy's bedroom, too.

and

2. Sometimes, when her father was sleeping on the couch, Willow would tiptoe down the hall to his bedroom, that used to be Dorothy's bedroom, too.

The difference, of course, lies in that one stinking little comma after the word "bedroom." The two are totally different to me. They sound different. They have a different "aura." (#1 is the one that is my rhythm and my voice. I need that sound - with no pause for the comma.)

Lucky for me, I also have copyeditors who listen to me and respect what I do and don't push their dang commas on me if I don't want them. Another one of the 1378 reasons why I love FSG.