I received an email the other week
asking me to take part in a book-themed funraising event that began:
Woodrow Wilson once said: I would never read a book if it were possible for me to talk half an hour with the man who wrote it.” I am sure there are many who would agree!
So, you mean those hundredty-million
hours I spent writing my book, and the 5am starts during the editing process
(which seems never-ending at the mo) have been a waste? I could have just gone
around talking to people? Egad.
I was tempted to mark another thing off
my to-do list ('Turn something down') but in the end, couldn’t bear the thought
of not taking part. So I said yes, but mentioned that if I were them I wouldn’t use that quote
again when trying to get writers to donate their time (especially if you strike
a writer at the tail-end of a three year project who's very nearly ‘over it’).
*
Proof of life
 |
| Dedication |
 |
| Bung dates |
I also cut about 1.5 pages from a
section in Part Three (a bit that tended to slow a chapter down and made people
wonder about hypothermia).
On Wednesday I got sent some queries
from the proof reader who’d been reading the same version of the manuscript
(this was their first time with the book). Of the 21 queries, I agreed with 13
and stuck to my guns with the other eight.
Do I have any other comments on the
proofs stage?
 |
| Cut pages |
Not really. It’s nice when you first
receive the proofs and see your 100k word document laid out as a book and you
get to see how many pages it’ll be (around 330 trade paperback pages – ‘around’
since I cut some stuff). From that point, to the time I actually took up the
proofs and started reading, was about ten days. It wasn’t reluctance to
re-engage with the book (at least, not solely): my gran died, so I had to do
funerally things, while still doing long hours at work, filing my column,
helping out with the baby and trying to keep a level head on cover issues.
*
The cover
Yeah, so, just remember my headspace
wasn’t the best.
About a month ago I was emailed a
series of stock photos by Random House and given the chance to veto any images
I had an allergic reaction to (I’d previously said I wouldn’t be happy with a
‘women in a flowing dress’ typical historical fiction cover). I vetoed a few.
A week or so later I got a mock-up of a
cover that the Sales and Marketing team liked best. I asked to see the other
options they were given. I didn’t like any of them. All bar one were stock
photos with text on top: two minute photoshop jobs, tops. They looked cold and
under-designed. The exception was a more stylised rendering of a dressmaker’s
form (not a mannequin), but that looked too much like Chick-Lit.
I tried to put into words what was
wrong with the preferred cover. If that image (a headless, limbless mannequin
that inspires as much interest in me as a piece of unbuttered toast) must be
used, at least do something about the typography.
I also said:
“But if I’m honest I would be a little bummed if this is the cover that stares back at me for the next three years (though it may be good motivation to write another book quickly).”
This was the day after my gran died,
and I apologised for being grumpy in my next email.
I moved from dislike to acceptance to
not giving a damn over the next couple of days.
I know the final call on the cover is
not mine to make, and maybe the Sales and Marketing Team knows best (I don’t
have enough evidence here to be snarky). And maybe, once there’s a back cover
and it’s printed and wrapped around 330-odd pages of literary goodness (or
literary passableness) I’ll be fine with it.
*
What’s next?
I get the final proofs after Easter and
have another fortnight to turn them around. Final sign-off at the end of April.
I have a grand idea for a launch event
but have to talk to some people before I say anything. If this idea falls
through I guess it’ll be cheese and pineapple hedgehogs in the Ministry of
Education cafeteria. Walk socks and sandals optional.
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