It Never Ends
After my first book came out, my brother sent me a list of things I'd gotten wrong. Anachronisms, he said.
I tossed his list without reading it.**
The damn book was out. Printed. Done. If he'd sent the list earlier I would have feverishly pored over it and looked up each of his claims. But the book was finished and I could only tut tut sorrowfully and send him a surprised thank you note.*** The book was out of my hands and I couldn't do anything about the mistakes I might have made.
The other day I bought an ebook. I immediately saw a typo and, because I know the editor, I sent her a heads up. Shall I tell you about other mistakes? I asked her.
The fool said sure.
Four long emails later--one of which contradicted one of my earlier assertions about a particular detail--and even I'd had enough of me. But that isn't the main point.
I don't know if she'll use any of the notes I sent her but frankly the thought that she might tell the writer to change these things gives me a stomachache -- in sympathy with the writer.
There's a glorious moment when you write THE END. And another glorious moment when you confidently type "I have solved all of your concerns" to the editor you're working with. Those are the precious times you know that writing is not like raising children or delivering the mail. With books there are beginnings, middles and, best of all, ENDS.
This is why I love paper. I can walk away from a book when I'm finished writing it. Hard enough to figure out when that moment is, what with rewrites. . . But eventually the book is not my problem any more. I hope that I haven't destroyed that moment for the ebook author in question.
There is another disturbing issue raised by the incident: Why the hell did I write the letters? Sad to say, I think it's because I'm a crank. A granny waxweather. (thanks Charli!)
I know every book has problems and I certainly don't take the mistakes personally. I am not offended. In this case, I enjoyed the book. And yet, the little issues nagged. . . .AND I think now I know why some people write the letters. The trivia is racketing around in their heads and they have to tell someone. (That word was not used until the 1900s)
After all, the writer/editor caused the dumb facts to rise up from the depths where they were buried, somewhere near the lyrics to the Gilligan's Island theme I memorized as a wee tot. Since the writer/editor unearthed the useless information, why not bug them with it?
It's like a song refrain that gets stuck in your head. Always satisfying to punish the kid who set off the continuous Rolling Stones loop in your head of You cain't always git what you waaaaaaahnt.
by singing
Just sit right back and you'll hear a tale/a tale of a fateful trip./That started from this tropic port/aboard this tiny ship.
. . . Although I guess that punishment is too cruel, isn't it.
ANYWAY
What do you think? Assuming it isn't a big deal process (and I don't know if it is) is it reasonable for a publisher to ask a writer to correct mistakes in an ebook? Or should the choice to change be left entirely up to the writer? She put in her time on that book already. Wonder what the policy is in Ebook World.****
_____
** Actually I saved his list thinking I'd look up what he said, just in case he was wrong. Heh. Nothing more satisfactory than proving a sibling is wrong while he's trying to prove me wrong.
*** He actually read the thing! Wow.
**** When I worked my NYC pubbed books, I was often assured that they were MY books. MY name was on them. On the other hand, humongous mistakes weren't tolerated. No editor wants to be known as the dimbo who allowed the infamous camera in the Regency--there is such a book, btw.
I tossed his list without reading it.**
The damn book was out. Printed. Done. If he'd sent the list earlier I would have feverishly pored over it and looked up each of his claims. But the book was finished and I could only tut tut sorrowfully and send him a surprised thank you note.*** The book was out of my hands and I couldn't do anything about the mistakes I might have made.
The other day I bought an ebook. I immediately saw a typo and, because I know the editor, I sent her a heads up. Shall I tell you about other mistakes? I asked her.
The fool said sure.
Four long emails later--one of which contradicted one of my earlier assertions about a particular detail--and even I'd had enough of me. But that isn't the main point.
I don't know if she'll use any of the notes I sent her but frankly the thought that she might tell the writer to change these things gives me a stomachache -- in sympathy with the writer.
There's a glorious moment when you write THE END. And another glorious moment when you confidently type "I have solved all of your concerns" to the editor you're working with. Those are the precious times you know that writing is not like raising children or delivering the mail. With books there are beginnings, middles and, best of all, ENDS.
This is why I love paper. I can walk away from a book when I'm finished writing it. Hard enough to figure out when that moment is, what with rewrites. . . But eventually the book is not my problem any more. I hope that I haven't destroyed that moment for the ebook author in question.
There is another disturbing issue raised by the incident: Why the hell did I write the letters? Sad to say, I think it's because I'm a crank. A granny waxweather. (thanks Charli!)
I know every book has problems and I certainly don't take the mistakes personally. I am not offended. In this case, I enjoyed the book. And yet, the little issues nagged. . . .AND I think now I know why some people write the letters. The trivia is racketing around in their heads and they have to tell someone. (That word was not used until the 1900s)
After all, the writer/editor caused the dumb facts to rise up from the depths where they were buried, somewhere near the lyrics to the Gilligan's Island theme I memorized as a wee tot. Since the writer/editor unearthed the useless information, why not bug them with it?
It's like a song refrain that gets stuck in your head. Always satisfying to punish the kid who set off the continuous Rolling Stones loop in your head of You cain't always git what you waaaaaaahnt.
by singing
Just sit right back and you'll hear a tale/a tale of a fateful trip./That started from this tropic port/aboard this tiny ship.
. . . Although I guess that punishment is too cruel, isn't it.
ANYWAY
What do you think? Assuming it isn't a big deal process (and I don't know if it is) is it reasonable for a publisher to ask a writer to correct mistakes in an ebook? Or should the choice to change be left entirely up to the writer? She put in her time on that book already. Wonder what the policy is in Ebook World.****
_____
** Actually I saved his list thinking I'd look up what he said, just in case he was wrong. Heh. Nothing more satisfactory than proving a sibling is wrong while he's trying to prove me wrong.
*** He actually read the thing! Wow.
**** When I worked my NYC pubbed books, I was often assured that they were MY books. MY name was on them. On the other hand, humongous mistakes weren't tolerated. No editor wants to be known as the dimbo who allowed the infamous camera in the Regency--there is such a book, btw.
My brother would do the same thing! I'm not fussy about mistakes although I do make a huge effort not to have any in my work (writer in day job).
ReplyDeleteI think if the opportunity to fix the book is still there, then do it. However, there has to be a cutoff point at some time or else the changes will go on indefinitely!
Hope you're doing well, Kate!
You have me curious about that camera in the regency LOL
ReplyDeleteI wouldn't mind it, provided the critic isn't snotty about it (e.g., "the author really should have done his homework!" that sort of thing).
ReplyDeleteWhen I beta read, I usually ask the author what sort of feedback he wants. Nits? General impressions? Some folks want the errors pointed out, some are content to leave that to their editors.
LOLOL ... I have a reader who very nicely writes me and points out all my errors. Man, she's so good, I swear she's a big NY copyeditor hiding under a pseudonym. I look forward to her emails, hoping that just this time, maybe, I won't have made any mistakes.
ReplyDeleteMaybe someday ...
Lois M says she thinks the photos show up in this book:
ReplyDeleteIrene Loyd Black, A TOUCH OF MERRY
and it looks like the one amazon review confirms it, sort of. This was no camera obscura.
From the review: Examples [of anachronisms] that stay with me even ten years later are:
1. The heroine feeling as if she's having an "out-of-body experience" while dancing with the hero...in Regency England.
2. The heroine asking the hero if he is a "control freak"...in Regency England.
3. The hero and the heroine confronting the villain and saying that they can prove his nefarious deeds because they have "photographs"...in Regency England.
Really, after a certain point I was just reading to see what other anachronisms would pop up.
If I'm remembering the wrong book, I do apologize, but I'm pretty certain that this is the one.