If you been reading these posts, the New Novel, that you know as Baby Doe was to be published in December. I thought it was done last September. I received the third "final" proofed and formatted pdf of the book in January with the forms ready for my signature, which would approve publishing the thing.
I took a look at the pdf. Discovered a few typos, then more, and more, and more. And even a few gaffes--the worst being a pregnancy that somehow backed up for a month as it proceeded. (Don't ask). So our friend, Barbara G., editor and writer par excellence (referral available on request), and I took a deep dive into the whole novel. More work. Much. To. Do.
My friend, Will, described how I felt:
When, in disgrace with fortune and men’s eyes,
I all alone beweep my outcast state,
And trouble deaf heaven with my bootless cries,
And look upon myself and curse my fate,
Wishing me like to one more rich in hope,
Featured like him, like him with friends possessed,
Desiring this man’s art and that man’s scope,
With what I most enjoy contented least;
But then, noodling around on Facebook, I found this first post by Gary Glass on the Writers Supporting Writers group. Gary writes:
I have never felt so owned as I do by this:
Erasmus, In Praise of Folly: "Of the same kidney are those who court immortal fame by writing books. They all owe a great deal to me [Folly], especially any who blot their pages with unadulterated rubbish. But people who use their erudition to write for a learned minority and are anxious to have either Persius or Laelius pass judgement don’t seem to me favoured by fortune but rather to be pitied for their continuous self-torture. They add, change, remove, lay aside, take up, rephrase, show to their friends, keep for nine years, and are never satisfied. And their futile reward, a word of praise from a handful of people, they win at such a cost – so many late nights, such loss of sleep, sweetest of all things, and so much sweat and anguish. Then their health deteriorates, their looks are destroyed, they suffer partial or total blindness, poverty, ill will, denial of pleasure, premature old age, and early death, and any other such disasters there may be. Yet the wise man believes he is compensated for everything if he wins the approval of one or another purblind scholar."
What a hoot. I feel so much better.
