Micromanaging, overediting and knowing when to stop

When the Novel Spaces group blog went live two years ago I watched over it like a fussy mama. As co-coordinator, I wanted everything to be purrrrfect. I checked the list of posts already written and scheduled, and noticed that one author had not pre-scheduled his first post. No problem, I told myself. People have different approaches: some will prepare weeks ahead while others will create and post at the very moment they're supposed to go live...

But there I was anyway, minutes to midnight, just before my friend's post was to appear, and there was no sign of his article in the lineup. Sheesh, I wondered. Maybe he forgot, it being a holiday weekend and all. I trotted over to Amazon, did some window shopping, then returned to the blog and checked the list of posts again. Nothing. I shot off an apologetic e-mail to the guy, something along the lines of: Sorry to be a nuisance - but did you forget today's your day to post? Then I clicked over to check the blog once more before I went to bed - and there it was! My friend's post! Right on time, too.

Needless to say, I felt like an idiot. I don't like anyone looking over my shoulder, sniffing at my heels, or whatever analogy there might be for just being ANNOYING! So why was I doing that to other people? Couldn't I have waited at least until the next morning before I started firing off nagging e-mails?

I made a resolution that night: Don't be a bloody pest. Leave grown people alone to do what they have to.

This obsessiveness carries over to my writing, sad to say. I know writers who never rewrite, who edit as they go, submit their product when they get to the end and then move on to the next project. I'm at the other end of the spectrum: when I get to 'The End' my work is just beginning. If I re-read my manuscript 50 times I find things to change each of those times. I delete, add, modify, shift around, rename, reword, rephrase, restore to the original, shift back again and generally edit until I reach a point where I have to say: Hands off. Leave it alone. Didn't you hear me? Step away from that @#$%*! manuscript!

Overediting is a real danger to writers, just like micromanaging is to organizers. You run the risk of running past the point where your nit-picking is beneficial and you begin doing real damage. Instead of growing stronger, the work grows weaker as you focus more and more on minutiae and begin to lose sight of the big picture. Recognizing that point is vital, and truly difficult for micromanaging, perfectionist, anal-retentive writers - like me.

—Liane Spicer

Novel Spaces: Authors, clean up your act.

I've got a bit of news for authors of all stripes: 'Indie' publishing is not a free pass.

The new technologies make it possible for writers to bypass the gate-keeping functions of literary agents, acquiring editors, copy/line editors and proofreaders. Writers/authors can now offer their products directly to the customer in digital form. Say what you will about the traditional publishing model, the fact is there was some measure of quality control. The absence of these standards in the new model is proving disastrous to, if not the viability, then the integrity of self-published or "indie" e-books.

According to Rich Adin in The Digital Reader:

"I have to admit that part of the problem is the poor quality of so many ebook offerings ... of every 10 ebooks I acquire, I am certain that 8 or 9 will be trashcanned within the first 30 pages of reading."

Continue: Novel Spaces: Authors, clean up your act.

Galleys & genre-juggling

I sort of imagined that I'd have very little to do when the galley for Café au Lait arrived. Ha. There's a reason that manuscripts make so many passes before so many eyes, I'm finding. I found a glaring error on the very first page. No, it wasn't one of mine that I'd overlooked (please!) but one that was created because of changes and additions and deletions made after I'd passed the manuscript along. I made special mention of this correction in the cover letter to the production supervisor. Can't have an error on the first page, people! That would put me off a book instantly!

There were other errors of this type here and there. You know what happens when you modify a sentence: you have to re-read the whole sentence to make sure the whole thing hangs together, as well as keep an eye out for inconsistencies further along that result from these changes. Then there were the usual nuts-and-bolts corrections: typos, punctuation, capitalization and such. I was told that while I was reading, the novel had also been passed to a professional proofreader - so here's hoping that between us we've caught everything.

On another note, a Google Alert informed me that Café is on a chick lit list of releases. I did a double take, then remembered that Kevin had remarked on first seeing the cover that he would have guessed 'chick lit' rather than 'romance'. I decided to do some research and discovered that the genres do overlap, seemingly. Here's the Wiki def:

Chick lit" is a term used to denote genre fiction written for and marketed to young women, especially single, working women in their twenties and thirties... Chick lit features hip, stylish female protagonists, usually in their twenties and thirties, in urban settings (usually London or Manhattan), and follows their love lives and struggles for professional success (often in the publishing, advertising, public relations or fashion industry). The books usually feature an airy, irreverent tone and frank sexual themes.

And from Electronic Book Review:

"Chick-Lit is hip, stylish, confident, and sharp - it's also honest and very brave. It battles and conquers the term Chick; it explores, explains, sometimes gives in to and sometimes blows away the notion of a chicklet, trapped by birth to imprint its parents; it is sexual and sensual in dear or savage or shocking ways. And it proves itself structurally, lyrically, and formally as lit-erature."

The latter article also explores the 'postfeminist' label sometimes applied to chick lit. And there was more. If my heroine had been older, the book might picked up the 'hen lit' label. If she'd been a mother, 'mom lit'. Younger, and the 'teen lit' label might have been applied. And so on, and on...

It's all about marketing, I guess. So, do I have strong feelings about the book being thus labeled? Nah. Call it what you like, I say. I've done my part; now it's their turn. With the galley out of the way, all my focus is on the next one.

Amazon and galleys

Last night I Googled my novel and discovered that it's now up on Amazon.com. I suppose that by the time I've gone through the publishing process several times (I'm an optimist) I won't even be bothered to Google new releases, and I won't feel that spurt of excitement when I first spy the titles online in stores. Since this is my maiden voyage, you'll forgive my enthusing over every little thing, right? So I'm moving on to the other big first that has me grinning like an idiot right now...

Galleys! They arrived today, and when the courier guy put the box into my hands I almost dropped it. Heavy stuff, these galleys, I thought. When I opened the package I understood. In addition to the printed pages I discovered about 150 book covers. Huh? I'm assuming that these are for use in my own promotional forays - but I've e-mailed the production supervisor and asked, just to be sure.

I glanced at the last pages and found that my sexy closing scene has been knifed. What's left is... well, not much of it is left. And my scintillating final sentence? Gone. Vanished. Poof. **sob... wailllll!!!!!!!!** Who knows what other surgery has been performed in the innards of the book? Now I have to brace myself and repeat 100 times: The editor knows best. The editor is always right. The editor knows best. The edit...

The best laid plans of mice and men gang oft agley...

I stepped out of the office today, looked down for a moment, and walked straight into a steel window frame. Staggered. Doubled over, disoriented and in pain. Grabbed at a piece of some structure at waist height and hung on for dear life. My sister-in-law came around the side of the building at that very moment:

"You hit your head on the window! Let me put some ice on it!"

So for the next twenty minutes I iced the head, wondering if I had done some serious harm. First I wanted to laugh. Then I wanted to cry. I went back to work but had trouble concentrating. I'd open a file and forget why I was there. Had to be careful with my balance when I stood or walked. Felt - drifty. Weird.

I came home from work, still feeling weepy, shot off an e-mail to the editorial assistant telling her that I'll review the copy and get back to her on Monday. I happened to check that account again an hour later and found her reply. The cover copy for Café au Lait has already been approved and is set to go to production on... Monday morning.

Oops. So I check the time: 4.47. Damn. Isn't the US on daylight saving time now? Does that mean that I have an hour and 13 minutes to turn in my fantastic fusion? Or, heaven forbid, did I miss closing time by... Arrggh! I was never good at this stuff. And the clock is ticking.

My mother steps over the clumps of hair I'm pulling out, sizes up the situation, and recommends that I leave the proposed copy as is. She likes it, but she hasn't read the manuscript! And the friend I passed it by last night? The one who actually read the story? He hates it!

I copy theirs and mine on to Notepad and compare. Ye muses of fusion, whither goeth thou! I fool around with the text for awhile, throw in the towel and send off another e-mail. Go ahead, I tell the lady. Leave it as it is. You have my blessings.

Sigh. And if the quotation at the head of this post isn't quite accurate, remember, I got knocked on the head today.

Cover copy

The proposed cover copy for Café au Lait arrived in the mail today. I wrote my own copy quite awhile ago, and I think both my version and the publisher's have merit. Theirs is much more succinct and direct, while mine is truer to the spirit of the novel. So, what to do?

My first impulse was to go with theirs; after all, they're the ones with the experience and the marketing expertise. Since I'm so close to the project I decided I couldn't make an objective assessment, so I passed it by a friend who's not only a writer, but also my reader: he's the only one I know personally who has read the manuscript. The others are agents and editors and members of their staff.

I'm glad I passed it by him before deciding what to do. His observations dovetailed with my own feelings on the issue. So - I decided that I'll try for a fusion of the two: the style of theirs and the essence of mine.

Hope I end up with a fabulous hybrid and not a monstrous miscegenation! Will let you know how it turns out.

Edits, edits...

I'm in the middle of the editing process with my editor from Dorchester. The deadline is November 30, and I've still got lots to do. The editor was supposed to mail me the manuscript with her markings since the start of the month, but I didn't get it. I gave her a street address two weeks ago in case the PO box number was the problem, and she was supposed to send me another copy. I haven't received that yet either. I hope it's not my courier in Miami messing up again...

The editorial letter was very detailed, and we discussed the revisions by phone, so I'm forging ahead, package or no package. There's no way I'm going to miss that deadline on Friday. Absolutely no effing way!

The day job that's been looming is supposed to start next week, once this editing business is out of the way. Hm. I'll be keeping regular hours, I suppose. No more staying up all night reading blogs, editing novel #2, and farting around with novel #3. Damn. I hate being all normal and everything; I like going to bed at dawn. The upside of this change, of course, is that I'll be [insert drumroll] getting paid! Buying groceries! And stuff like that.

Off and running

Thanks to all who've visited the blog and commented over the last two weeks, and who are probably wondering where I got to. Well, my computer problem has become more convoluted; since two computers got blown, as well as one ac/dc adapter and the battery to a laptop (all within a relatively short time), they're telling me that there is either a problem with the supply of electricity to the house, or with the internal wiring. So I'm making do with library visits, internet cafes and such. Hopefully things will be back to what passes for normal around here pretty soon.

Yesterday I got the first call from my editor at Dorchester. Hurrah! Onward Ho! And such. Surprise! There are going to be edits. The agent didn't think that any revisions would be necessary, but thankfully I'd read that editors always want changes, so I was prepared.

Here's the thing: I'm eager to start those edits because everything the lady said made perfect sense. Okay, maybe I'll want to fight with her over some stuff when this cloud I'm floating on lets me off and I can think straight, but right now I can see the reasoning behind her comments, and I truly believe that going through this process with her will make for a better novel, and a better writer.