If you’re wondering where I’ve been all afternoon, I’ve been right here at this computer, doing my part of the final edit of The Silver Trumpet. Our boss, Mark Rushdoony, hopes to publish it in January.
No one has ever published an error-free book, but at Chalcedon we come about as close to it as humanly possible. This will be my third time proofreading the book, and I’m only one of several proofreaders. Actually, it’s quite shocking when I discover–after the book is published!–a typo on a page.
Susan, my editor, had a rather complicated reaction to The Temptation. She’s worried about some of the characters’ welfare. Some of them are very definitely sailing into harm’s way. I pray that in the spring I’ll be ready to start writing the next installment of the story.
But first we’ve gotta get The Silver Trumpet into print!
At least the editing job takes my mind off WordPress.
Yeah, The Temptation, she’s-a done–in spite of all the computer problems, doctor visits, bad weather, and constant interruptions, Book No. 11 of my Bell Mountain series is all typed up, polished, and sent off to my editor.
I have no idea to what extent, if any, I have succeeded in communicating the vision I had for this book. My wife read the last six chapters this morning, but she was very tired and I don’t know quite what to make of her reaction.
What I tried to do, in the climax of this story, was difficult. It had to be written so that a reasonably with-it 12-year-old would have no trouble understanding it, but at the same time in such a way so as not to alienate adult readers. Sorta like when the pitching coach comes out and tells you, “Don’t give him anything to hit, but don’t walk him, either.”
Oh, well. A writer who’s sure of himself is probably headed for a bad book. I had to work very intently on the climax and I’m kinda wrung out. It’ll be a week or two before I start to miss having no book to be working on. In the meantime, Chalcedon has plenty for me to do.
Just so you know I’m not just fatzing around today (as they say in Ninneburky), let me tell ya. Blog posts, edit huge Chalcedon article about economics (requiring duct tape around head), Newswithviews column, recycling center, a trip to the store, type up another chapter of The Temptation (which is hard to read because of cold days when the ink wouldn’t flow smoothly from the pen)–do you wonder why I never got around to another installment of Oy, Rodney? Now I’m a bit too tuckered out to try.
I’ve just got to get this book finished. Somehow! I had hoped to get it done this week.
I’ll try to deliver a cat video this evening. Signing off for now…
Writing is much on my mind today–maybe because, once I finish typing up the last chapters of The Temptation, I will again be in that not-so-pleasant limbo that exists for authors between books. Maybe I ought to write longer books…
Okay, now I really have finished writing The Temptation and can go on to type up the last bunch of chapters, polishing them as I go, and send them in to my editor. And that, Lord willing, will be Bell Mountain No. 11.
As various computer woes swept over me this weekend, I realized there was something important that I had to add to the climax. I won’t tell you what it was, except to say it caught Gallgoid the Chief Spy flat-footed, and you have to get up pretty early in the morning to do that.
Why a picture of a baby alligator hatching?
Well, an alligator starts out small and can grow very, very big; and I pray my books will do the same, in the Lord’s service.
Now that I’ve got a cover for The Silver Trumpet, I have to write the blurb for it, which I did this afternoon.
Somehow I always find it a difficult task–sum up the whole novel in 150 words, and do it in such a way as to make someone want to open it up and read it. This always leaves me wondering if I should’ve kept it to 150 words in the first place.
Which brings me back some 30 years to my days as a horror novelist for a major New York City publishing house. They wouldn’t have dreamed of letting the book’s author write the cover blurb.
See that one up there? The cover copy on the back was written by someone who hadn’t read the book, or at best only skimmed a part of it. What you read on the back cover only slightly resembles the content of the book. I would have liked to complain, but that would’ve only made them laugh.
So Storehouse Press has me writing the cover copy for my own books, and the cover artist actually reads the book before he creates the cover, and everybody’s happy.
Next time you feel a book as given you a bum steer, please try to remember it’s probably not the author’s fault.
I didn’t feel well yesterday, so I read a bit more of Violet Crepuscular’s dauntingly long romance novel, Oy, Rodney.
Faced with bankruptcy and ruin, young Lord Jeremy Coldsore hires a mysterious stranger whose only talent is performing imitations of persons whom most people have never heard of. He avoids giving his name, but his impression of Pete Runnels would really wow everyone if they only knew who Pete Runnels was.
Lady Margo Cargo, the richest widow in Scurveyshire, insists on going out to check her mailbox and has a nasty fall. The termites have been at her wooden leg again. Jeremy is still trying to find the right way to propose to her. “Here is how Pete Runnels would do it,” says his new adviser. But Jeremy gets tongue-tied.
(In case you were wondering)
Willis Twombley, the American adventurer who claims he’s Sargon of Akkad, sues to get his ancient empire back. An unscrupulous solicitor takes his case.
Two pages of Chapter LXXIII are completely black, indicating two nights in which nothing happens.
The vicar, recovering from his conniptions, can now say, “Rodney! Rodney!” No one knows what he means; nor is anyone else willing to peek under the backyard wading pool to see what he saw.
Please stop criticizing my choice to display the cover of Lord of the Tube Socks. My copy of Oy, Rodney is one of those books with the cover torn off so it can be sold cheaply.