the going-to-press blues and other rambles

Another day, another two books to press. Just whipping them out really, full of grace. No three in the morning panics about French culinary terms or whether my authors can withstand the cracking pace set for them. Or whether I can.

In one of the books that I sent off today was this line: 'I could feel a little of the orchard conversation clinging to me.' It clung to me for ages; what a beautiful way of showing something linger.

One of the things I love most about editing is logic and continuity. Fucked if I know why; my desk is messy and I think I overpay Telstra. But I love discovering in chapter three that it's Thursday not Tuesday, and stitching back together a whole sequence of events that would otherwise have unravelled. I love making sure that the heroine's long, tangly strawberry-blond hair stays that way through the entire book, unless she gets a surprise platinum bob, in which case I like keeping it surprised and platinum. I love the threads of a book, and I'm fascinated by writers (like the orchard conversation guy) who can keep all their threads so clearly in their mind that they know, unerringly, that changing three words of dialogue in chapter 10 will have consequences on the second page of chapter 15, and the third last line of the book.

I meant to say something about the going-to-press blues. But that is a whole other blog.

I just watched the first episode of season four of Friday Night Lights, which basically means I just watched Tim Riggins.