There is a real
possibility that today’s blog will be a bit of a disappointment.
Let me explain.
I have just – and
I mean ‘just’ – finished checking the copy editing of Postcards
from the Past and taken the necessary down to the post office so
that it can wing its way back to Transworld. That means I just have
had no time at all to think about this blog whereas most weeks I have
a pretty clear idea of what I intend to write and, sometimes, it is
written on Thursday evening. Not today. Today my head is still full
of copy editing or, as our American friends call is, line editing.
This has nothing to
do with editing which is where the content of the book and big things
such as plots, characterisation, pace, balance and so forth are put
under the magnifying glass. No, copy editing is where the magnifying
glass goes back into the box and the microscope comes out. Now we are
looking at every comma, semi-colon, colon, inverted comma (single and
doubles), hyphens, n-dashes, m-dashes and full stops. We are checking
to see where the paragraphs break, that none of the tenses are mixed,
that all song titles, book titles, film titles, etc are correct, that
there are no errors in the time line. Surely Susie knew about the
murder before she had lunch with Penelope? How can little John be
eight today when he was born only seven years ago?
Flash-backs require
special care. Did they have contact lens in 1941? He can’t have
been driving an Escort then, they didn’t hit the market until much
later.
I have done a bit
of copy editing and I can promise you it is one of the hardest and
most difficult things to do – your job is to make corrections
without anybody noticing which means without disturbing the style of
the writer. Sometimes punctuation isn’t a problem. Some books defy
all the rules of grammar. I would have problems in copy editing such
books: I would be at odds with the author all the way through. That
is not to say that I do not enjoy books written with little or no
regard for the English language. Dick Francis wrote some books which
did that but he wrote about the world he knew (rather as did Jane
Austen) and in his books you can smell the stable yard, feel the
creak of the saddle beneath you as your and the horse’s breath
condenses in the early morning chill, the fear and exultation of the
jockeys, trainers and owners on race days.
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| There is no good reason for this photograph. Am I trying to prove that there is something strangely beautiful about corrugated iron? Surely not. On Dartmoor, since you ask. |
Good, really good,
copy editors are like hens teeth and Marcia is incredibly lucky to
have Yvonne Holland working on the manuscripts. Like most copy
editors, Yvonne is freelance. She was hugely helpful to Marcia when
she was writing The Children’s Hour in which Lydia was a
copy editor. Without Yvonne’s expert input that characterisation
would not have been possible.
So, we receive the
manuscript covered in Yvonne’s notes and marks. There will also be
a sheet drawing Marcia’s attention to places where there are major
queries. So, job one is for Marcia to work through that and tell me
what changes she wants made (it is uncanny how Yvonne always spots
problems although some of her proposals for solving them may not be
what Marcia wants). Once that has been done, the manuscript ends up
on my desk.
I read it through,
red pencil in hand, ticking everything I think is right, changing
anything I feel is wrong (Yvonne and I do not always agree on the use
of commas) and putting a query against anything I want to discuss
with Marcia. Then I go through it again, correcting the manuscript on
my computer so that the ‘post copy editing’ version can be sent
overseas for the translators to start work while, at the same time,
marking any corrections using a green pen.
Finally those
sheets, the ones with my green scrawls on them, are popped into an
envelope and taken down to the post office. Now I am back, rather
damp (it was pouring with rain) with very little time to write to
you. I suspect this is a rant – my apologies.
This is not the best photograph I have taken of the Painted Lady Vanessa cardui but it isn't bad of the person about to land nearby. No idea what it is but I will see if I can identify it but please don't hold your breath: at the moment I am not even sure whether it is a wasp, a bee or a fly.
Bill was far more interested in another dog on the other side of the road than he was in becoming famous. Perhaps he has his priorities right.
