What a wild, wild, wild, ridiculously busy week this past week was.
I've been working with four authors since about, oh, late September. I've been juggling and balancing and holding hands, and pat-pat, there-there-ing to beat the band (I never realized how much hand-holding was involved in editing. It's quite a bit, evidently.), I'm better at it some times than others (like when something isn't communicated to me and then the other person is surprised by my lack of action? you know, like that.)*ahem*.
One of the authors I just adore--we are totally different types of people, have completely opposing worldviews (which I did not make them aware of *ahem*), but they are a lovely, lovely, generous, compassionate, funny person whose company I enjoy. And they've written quite a novel. Nearly 500 pages. Book I of a trilogy.
I'd been mailing their edits done on paper after printing them out (50 pages at a time), because they weren't comfortable using track changes, the standard editing model/tool for the e-information age.
I finally got the rewrite emailed to me last Friday, the day after Thanksgiving. We had had a long conversation about prepping for e-publication, all the steps necessary, how the window of opportunity for Christmas launch was teeny-tiny and I just didn't see how it would work--I had the author convinced to launch on Valentine's Day--post holiday holy-crap-how-much-did-I-spend-Christmas-blues would be abating, and a new holiday was a time to celebrate. Author thought that was an awesome idea.
The next day, I got an invitation to the book launch party scheduled for Saturday, Dec. 3. That gave me less than 7 days to proofread, eformat, and upload a 500 page novel.
Fuck me, but I got it done. I started on Sunday but only got about 30 pages done (that's my TV show night! Priorities!), my husband left early Monday morning to go to work, and I got up and spent 12 hours proofreading--four days in a row. I slept, I worked, I ate, periodically, I spent two hours on Wednesday evening taking out "and then..." from the narrative and replacing it with different words while I texted with a friend in Southern California.
Meanwhile, author and spousal unit are hounding me to finish so they can print a copy (why, they never tell me); I communicate to them that I need to finish the proofreading. They reply, "I said it was "OK" to publish as is." Uh, no. Just because you're paying for my services doesn't mean you get to decide what the final product should look like--my name is in there (in the acknowledgments), and my company's imprint and logo are on the book. We have reputations to protect, and the whole integrity thing. Just sayin'. They were a little surprised by my firmness in not just submitting what I was given (comma splice, comma splice, verb/subject coordination prob, using wikipedia as a fact source *naughtynaughty*), but just because it's "Your Book" doesn't mean you get to decide. Try to pull that shit on a New York publisher. Ha ha ha ha ha.
So anyways, Thursday night, Friday am really, at 2:30 I got that son-of-a-bitch uploaded on all the major e-book retailers. I would've liked to have spent more time with the book, proofreading it a second time, but honestly? I wasn't paid to do that, and I'd already gone over my estimated hours by 44 (which I won't get paid for--we don't charge over the estimate), but it feels great to have the fucker done and off my back. I have two more authors that need my attention (one I'm simply awaiting rewrites), and I told my boss send more work my way or if she needed help. She said she did. If this particular author wants a print version, and they want me to handle it? New contract, more billable hours.
Maybe for Valentine's Day? ;-)
***
1/2/12
OMG. This same author just e-mailed me for marketing help. I'm not contractually obligated to provide her any marketing assistance, but I wrote her a long email with suggestions of things she could do, even offered to set up a blog for her, tape a video for her to put on her website, blog, and author pages at Amazon and so forth, and then referred her to our publishers for further assistance, and I get this back from the author: OK. Thanks Jewels.
Seriously? WTF? I think she thinks she's written a bestseller and she would be able to quit her shitty job. Uh...no. Amanda Hocking was a fluke, and she had a great book. Un-fucking-believable.
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