Well, yeah, physically, you can.
But when we've moved past, and grown from, certain experiences, we can't return to the old perspective and enjoy them the same way.
The other night, I picked up a novel I had enjoyed in childhood, one I had wanted to re-read for a long time, and settled into bed with it. The title is unimportant, but it's a favorite novel, one that inspired me to write the type of fiction I write, and one that inspired me to write, period.
This book goes so far back into my childhood enjoyment that I remember my sister and I playing Miss America with our babysitter. When the babysitter asked me who I most wanted to meet in the entire world, I gave this author's name.
And yet the other night, I closed the book at page three and put it away.
Had I stuck with it, I'm fairly certain the story, and the way this author told it, would have wrapped me in its magic. That wasn't the problem.
The problem was, right there on page one, in this beautifully hard-bound traditionally published book with stunning pen and ink illustrations, was a typo.
Yes, a typo, On page one.
I took a breath, kept reading, and turned to page two.
And there was another.
And another.
I was done.
Now I'm not being judgmental. It's not the typos that bothered me, or rather, it's not the fact the book had typos that bothered me.
As a self-published author, I can't tell you the number of times I've read about the advantages of traditional publishing, with pristine editing being one of them.
As a self-published author. I struggle (and fail) to produce copy completely error-free. In fact, I told my editor for Before the Blood," I can live with a few typos (because, you know, I'm self-published)."
But the reason why I hired this particular editor was less about the catching typos (although she does) and more about catching plot holes, inconsistencies in characterizations, etc. The major types of stuff that ruin a story.
Since I'm not a huge publishing house with an elaborate staff of talented editors, I have to pick and choose my priorities.
I'll take a flawless story and characters that leap off the page over a few typos.
So why did I put the book away?
Not because the book has changed. But because I have changed.
I am no longer a child reaching for that book to get wrapped up in its wonder.
I am now an adult that creates some of that wonder for others.
But I am now also a self-published author who can move past the hand-wringing worry about publishing a perfect book.
Such a book doesn't exist. It didn't exist in the 1960s. And it doesn't exist today.
Yes, of course, I will write and edit as clean a story as possible and ruthlessly seek and weed out every mistake, every lesser word.
Too many word weeds will overtake a great story and choke it.
But a few? Depends on the reader and his or her tolerance for typos.
Apparently mine is a bit higher than most (I was good at grammar as a child).
Maybe in a month or so, I'll reach for the book again. I'm guessing I'll enjoy it on several levels.
With better understanding of how good books come to be.
With a probable chance I'll be analyzing its sentence structures...and marveling.
With gratitude to the author who has long since past on...
And with a bit of my nine-year-old self reading along with me and simply enjoying the journey.
But when we've moved past, and grown from, certain experiences, we can't return to the old perspective and enjoy them the same way.
The other night, I picked up a novel I had enjoyed in childhood, one I had wanted to re-read for a long time, and settled into bed with it. The title is unimportant, but it's a favorite novel, one that inspired me to write the type of fiction I write, and one that inspired me to write, period.
This book goes so far back into my childhood enjoyment that I remember my sister and I playing Miss America with our babysitter. When the babysitter asked me who I most wanted to meet in the entire world, I gave this author's name.
And yet the other night, I closed the book at page three and put it away.
Had I stuck with it, I'm fairly certain the story, and the way this author told it, would have wrapped me in its magic. That wasn't the problem.
The problem was, right there on page one, in this beautifully hard-bound traditionally published book with stunning pen and ink illustrations, was a typo.
Yes, a typo, On page one.
I took a breath, kept reading, and turned to page two.
And there was another.
And another.
I was done.
Now I'm not being judgmental. It's not the typos that bothered me, or rather, it's not the fact the book had typos that bothered me.
As a self-published author, I can't tell you the number of times I've read about the advantages of traditional publishing, with pristine editing being one of them.
As a self-published author. I struggle (and fail) to produce copy completely error-free. In fact, I told my editor for Before the Blood," I can live with a few typos (because, you know, I'm self-published)."
But the reason why I hired this particular editor was less about the catching typos (although she does) and more about catching plot holes, inconsistencies in characterizations, etc. The major types of stuff that ruin a story.
Since I'm not a huge publishing house with an elaborate staff of talented editors, I have to pick and choose my priorities.
I'll take a flawless story and characters that leap off the page over a few typos.
So why did I put the book away?
Not because the book has changed. But because I have changed.
I am no longer a child reaching for that book to get wrapped up in its wonder.
I am now an adult that creates some of that wonder for others.
But I am now also a self-published author who can move past the hand-wringing worry about publishing a perfect book.
Such a book doesn't exist. It didn't exist in the 1960s. And it doesn't exist today.
Yes, of course, I will write and edit as clean a story as possible and ruthlessly seek and weed out every mistake, every lesser word.
Too many word weeds will overtake a great story and choke it.
But a few? Depends on the reader and his or her tolerance for typos.
Apparently mine is a bit higher than most (I was good at grammar as a child).
Maybe in a month or so, I'll reach for the book again. I'm guessing I'll enjoy it on several levels.
With better understanding of how good books come to be.
With a probable chance I'll be analyzing its sentence structures...and marveling.
With gratitude to the author who has long since past on...
And with a bit of my nine-year-old self reading along with me and simply enjoying the journey.
No comments:
Post a Comment