Monday, January 15, 2018

#AmEditing

The thing about writing is that to some extent, I can make my own schedule. I can write when I want, working around other things. Of course, that assumes my muse is cooperating and that I’m inspired at the time I sit down to write. I can write until I’m finished, not worrying about anything other than finishing the book.

When it comes to editing, however, I have less flexibility. Usually, I’m editing according to someone else’s deadline. If I want my book published, I have to accommodate the needs of content editors, copy editors, layout people, etc. So when they send me something, everything else I might be working on has to be put off to the side so I can meet my deadlines.

Currently, I’m entering into the editing phase. I’ve been editing my own manuscripts for a while now, polishing them in order to get them ready to submit to my critique partners, or incorporating my critique partners’ comments into a manuscript I’m preparing to submit to my editor. But now, a bunch of different projects are coming together and for the next few weeks I’ll be busy.

My editor will be sending me my galleys any day now (I’ve been saying that for weeks, but really, it’s true) and I’ll have about a week to scour every word, letter, space and punctuation mark for accuracy before turning it back in and getting a release date for Five Minutes to Love—the sequel to Addicted to Love.

I’m also working on a self-publishing project and the editor I hired just returned my manuscript to me with all of her comments. They’re fantastic, but whoa, there are a lot of them. So for the next month, I’ll be working on those a little at a time. I can’t spend entire days on them because of other things going on and the fact that I’ll go batty. So I need to space it out a bit. But when I’m done, that manuscript is going to shine!

And finally, I’m judging a writing contest, so I have books to read. While I don’t have to edit them per se, I have to evaluate them for a variety of criteria, and there’s a deadline for me to complete them. So in between editing, I’ll be reading.


Insider tip: Now is a great time to invest in Advil, as I’ll be taking a lot of it! J

Monday, January 8, 2018

The Zipper

I’m not a klutz. Granted, we all have times when our actions are less than Fred Astaire-like, but in general, I can walk and chew gum at the same time. In fact, at times I’m downright graceful.

I’m also not stupid. I graduated from a well-respected university, have an excellent command of the English language and received good grades throughout my life.

But even graceful, intelligent people screw up, and when we do so, well...we blog about it.

My daughter’s jacket was broken. Now, first of all, I should say, this is a winter jacket she’s been wearing all season that neither one of us recognized. It was a color I don’t remember buying, with a hood of fake fur she’s never asked for. Frankly, I thought it might have been left in our house by a friend. And since it was hanging on our coat rack for months, I decided that if it wasn’t purchased by us, possession was nine-tenths of the law and it was ours now. Especially because it was a coat my daughter actually wanted to wear (as opposed to all the others she studiously avoided, regardless of the temperature).

So when she started wearing it, I was happy. I didn’t even mind that she wasn’t zipping it because, well, people have different body temperatures and I decided if she were cold enough, she’d zip it.

And then we had the deep freeze. The one where our thermometers are in the negative numbers and the wind chill takes your breath away. It was during this lovely blast of Mother Nature’s wrath that she and her youth group were going into New York City to feed and clothe the homeless. There was no way she was going with an open coat.

The only problem was that apparently the zipper was actually broken. The slider opening was closed, preventing the insert pin from being able to be inserted. The jacket was unzippable.

Normal people would say, “Go find another jacket.” Which I did. But I was also stubborn and decided I could fix the jacket by opening the slider. It had originally been open. Something just squeezed the two sides together, which meant I should be able to open them again. Only I couldn’t.

So then I forgot that I was a smart and graceful person and did something stupid and klutzy. I took a steak knife and tried to open the slider. The only thing I succeeded in opening was my thumb.


Which was no help at all for the zipper.