It's strange that I'm daunted by the task of writing this entry. Yesterday, I made the last sweep of edits to a seventy-seven page, single spaced, manuscript. And, I ceremoniously acknowledged its completion by having ten copies printed and bound at Kinko's Office and Print Center. The chapters, or sections, were much the same in length, structure, and style of a slashpound production like this one. The last entry to be stamped into this weblog was done on April, 19th. It is now June 24th, so apparently I've been hacking at the manuscript for two months. Though, it does not seem like it's taken that long to bring it to this stage.
A book, one that will potentially be more like 150 pages, if published, seems like something for which writing time takes months, and preparation takes even years. However, this book has taken four years since its conception to be where it is now. It was begun when I had left Milwaukee Behavioral Health for the last time. At least, the last time for a while. I returned to the system, and was faced with many more events in my life. A phenomenon I dubbed "transference" was a theme that was introduced and developed in the first manuscripts, and was also a prevalent thing in the later writing I did. Allusions are brought in from things that happened while I'd been out of the hospital: changes in my life, girlfriends, death, and pregnancy to name a few.
I have the jitters. The second and third drafts, which were attempts at continuation to the first series of chapters, failed to impress. Not at first, but I also had to concede that these drafts were either weak, esoteric, or both. I might have actually taken more time writing them, however. The first draft, which was begun as a weblog, was written quickly and got notice among my editors (friends and family) as having a cathartic quality. I find if I try to match my composition speed to my talking speed, I accomplish this quality. In any case, I believe I did a better job of matching the additional pages with the original pages, this time. Stylistically, that is.
I'll not critique myself further. This post will be transferred to a document and printed, for a briefing to those who will edit for grammar and spelling, primarily. I won't let them off the hook for their opinions, either, though. I'm asking not only for mechanical corrections, but also subjective criticism. On the book as a whole, yes, but also for changes they feel fit that are greater than a word substitution. This could be as small as removing punctuation, or as dramatic as removing a paragraph. I want dynamic criticism. Anything that would glare at a reader who is reading it from a paperback Bantam, I want changed before this thing is in the hands of those who would get put it there.
When I took the manuscript to Kinko's on my jump drive, I'd jumped the gun in one respect. I asked for five copies, and as I was passing time while they were printed and bound, I realized I'd forgotten to double space the thing. This was to be done so that there would be room for the red pen to make edits. I saved face and had five more copies printed, double spaced, without telling him my mistake. Just, that I'd come up with the idea over dinner. I could've asked for a reprieve on the price for the mistake. Worse yet, I could have demanded it was the worker's fault. But alas, I used to work at a Kinko's, and he knew I knew what that would do to his day.
Thank you, to all those who are editing this in lieu of a professional editor. I hate to think that these people won't read it when and if it becomes a published work. I might page through it, and they may actually, too. Just as I'd be admiring my work, they could say to themselves, "I corrected that use of the word 'too'!" A copy of your very own is implied, but also, I have included your very own high quality red pen for corrections. The pen is yours to keep, but I'll need the bound manuscript back to transfer corrections. Your help is sunshine on my back.
