Proof

Reading AL Kennedy’s quirky yet oh-so-competent words about receiving proofs to revise – the last chance to make sure your work, words and your book stacks up – holds a particular resonance for me today.
Proofs of my lil’ book are due to arrive at Bateman HQ today or yesterday, depending on how fast the FedEx man can run. (he’s obviously had a few hot cross buns, because he’s slow this week)

Last. Final. Conclusion. End. No more chances to meddle with what goes out into the big wide world.
Eeeeek!
As an editor I am usually interested to see if the proofs of the book are faithful to what I see onscreen. It’s an opportunity to find any lurking text errors and stray design elements that have decided to become unruly. Proofs can be the last time I will actually look at a book properly. Even when the advances come in, I can only just have quick flicks through; checking that everything is where it should be, before I send them out to the people who need to see them.
(This is where the oft-used simile of book production being like a pregnancy stumbles, falls and does not stand up. Ideally, parental interest in offspring doesn’t taper off at the moment of birth. Yet it is a very rare book that can win back an editor’s attention within the first few months – and even years – of publication).

As an editor, there’s always another book around the corner – you’ve probably been working intently on at least 3 other books by the time the proofs turn up, and by the time the book is published, you’ve possibly even forgotten the premise of the book.
But as an author, this is it.
This is my last chance to decide whether or not I want my name on the cover of the book. For months I had been deliberating. If my name was Sheryl I wouldn’t have a problem. But I am gifted with not only an unusual first name (thanks Mum and your beatnik ways), but also an odd surname (thanks random Irish ancestor who relocated to Scotland then the antipodes).
It was a subject of debate for my colleagues and my friends. Should I use a pseudonym (Wendy S Dale, Brie N Vogels being two of the more lateral thinking examples), a nom de plume, or not have the author mentioned at all?
As I wrote the book, however, it became apparent that I couldn’t be a detached author, I’d have to put some name to it, even if it wasn’t my own. But nothing seemed to sit right.
And then, over a couple of glasses of wine, my friend Anna (who is today heading off to immerse herself in a vivid life in Buenos Aires) made the very reasonable statement, “Well, if you don’t have your name to it, you shouldn’t be doing it.”
(A valid point, Anna. Your clarity of thinking certainly gives you an edge as a designer, and I reckon you’d make an amazing lawyer, too. But in the meantime – enjoy whatever adventures await you in the city of fair winds! )

It’s nearly 1pm, proofs still haven’t turned up. It’s making me jittery and I may resort to nervous eating – the sales manager brought in some hot cross buns this morning. The entire office smells of warm spiced fruit bread. (Almost as good as Apple-pie toasties!)

Ahhhhh — proofs, shmoofs.
If I could do it all again, would I write a different version of Kiwi Toasties? Possibly slightly different, possibly get hold of a better camera for the photos that I took. But I’d still be going through the same angst right now.

Maybe I’ll just pack my bags and head for Argentina, too?

Uh-oh ... Here’s the Fed-ex van ...

Why? why not!

I promised myself that I’d post to this blog this weekend. But, despite having lots to say, I managed not to. This is mostly due to the fact that the weekend was glorious! It was the last weekend of daylight savings, and rather that tip tap tap at my keyboard I had a picnic of French pastries on the beach, made icecream, ran and walked up and down hills, jumped off a pontoon into the April-warm sea, drank beers in the sun, ate fish and chips with mates who would not share their chips but did share their wine, and generally had a weekend of fun and frivolity.
But here I am on a Monday night, tapping away; hoping to post this sometime this evening. (Our internet is being shambolic at the moment. I think I need a new modem/wireless router.)
* There * is * always * something * . *

Friday, April 3rd – passing by the fax machine today I saw my name on a fax. I don’t usually receive faxes, ( it is not so long ago the implicit technology behind receiving and sending facsimiles mystified me – all those dots of information morphing into sound-wave immaterial data then back into something material again… too much for my brain to comprehend how that actually works in realtime). I don’t usually check the faxes, they are either orders from stores, or junk mail offering special discounts on cases of ‘manufacturer’s clearance’ items.
But this fax had my name on it. It was an order from a store. The first one I had seen.
5 copies! Five! To one small-town shop … HELL! It’s real! My name is now associated with a book, an ISBN, an RRP … a product. A transaction. A fax. Millions of little dots being fired as data into space and time because of me.

I’ve been trying to keep my distance from the sales information for Kiwi Toasties. I’m happy, for once, that I don’t have direct access to our sales monitoring system. It’s all too much to think about.
I suppose I’m in denial.

I don’t want fame and fortune, but I also don’t want failure! I know that is rarely something that one would admit. We all try and muck along pretending that we don’t give a damn about what other people think. But, essentially, I do care if I let people down.

I came up with this idea. I was thrilled when first a loved one thought it was a good idea, then my workmates thought it was a publishable idea … and then … well… then it grew into a book.
And here I am writing a blog to make sense of it all; how I ended up writing a book on the beloved, tasty and iconic toasted sandwich.

Shall I tell you how it started?

Well, maybe I should. If you are reading this then it means you have either stumbled in sideways to it, or you are actually interested. (As I say in the book, there is no accounting for taste!)
Dad, this blog is for you – I know you always thought I would write a book, and you were quite chuffed when I told you I had managed to get a publishing deal. But it took you a little while to realise I wasn’t joking, and that I was actually writing a book on toasties (of all things)! Love you Dad, thanks for your continued faith. Maybe the next book will be a Booker nominee! ha!
The next posting will relate how this all came to be... thanks for stopping by and reading my rambles.