Month: August 2018

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If it Wasn’t Arduous

My mother-in-law recently took the family and I on an awesome trek to the Galapagos Islands of Ecuador. Though the journey to and from wasn’t the most memorable part, I will share what it looked like coming home:

Thirty hours in transit.

Boat to Zodiac to bus to airport and so on.

Four airports (two in Spanish-speaking Ecuador).

Customs, leaving Baltra (Galapagos) and arriving in Miami (90 minutes, zombies after an overnight flight).

One hotel room for eight hours, enough time to watch a Spanish-language “The Martian” and some soccer (for those of us who can’t sleep-on-demand) and veg and think about dinner. (At some point, fear of falling asleep and missing a flight overrides a need to try to sleep.)

Waiting, and sitting, and waiting, and pacing, and…

I could go into more detail (the poor service of American Airlines, the do-not-drink-the-tapwater order in Guayaquil) but we’ve all been there before. Life shunted into a string of waiting spells, shuffling, patience–international travel these days.

So it’s no surprise I’m reminded of the finishing steps for publishing a novel. The tons of work and countless (countable?) hours. The waiting and pacing. The parade of decisions and second-guessing and, yes, retracing of steps (your own, and thousands of others before you). At the end, you’re fried.

Sound familiar?

It’s no exaggeration to say I’ve read through my novels 20 times each beyond the initial writing phase. Who hasn’t edited a paragraph 13 times (the tone, the word choice) only to come back on a second read-through and cut it entirely? Fat, superfluous, saved for another work.

(Ironically, this journey home was in one ‘straight shot’ whereas the completion of a book is spread over, say, 3-4 months.)

Of course, if the whole process wasn’t arduous, would it even be worth it? If you weren’t so sick of reading your own work (or cramped seat 17E) you could go ape-shit by the end, have you worked enough?

So, as I begin the finishing process for a fifth time (Destruction) I’m going to pin up a copy of this picture. The big Galapagos sea lion on his beach, basking and stretching his back and playing king. Because sometimes the world is this pristine. Sometimes the water is that blue.

A Galapagos sea lion showing off his stuff, Galapagos Islands, Ecuador.

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Easy As Burgers

A comparison, restaurant and book:

1. Lake District, England.

A restaurant with a water view–in town, in a charming building.

The customers–hungry for lunch, fresh off a hike.

The interior–hip and inviting.

The menu–simple enough, burgers and quesadillas.

Wait time–none.

Staff–friendly but…?

 

2. My local library.

A thriller–famous name, bestseller status.

The reader–eager for knowledge and comparison.

The cover–jazzy, dark, thriller-worthy.

The menu–predictable enough, violence and espionage.

Wait time–ostensibly, none.

The writing–should be great, but…

An owl-art decoration from a cafe in Bowness-on-Windermere, UK.

Easy Money

Okay, these two examples represent, in my view, idiot-proof things. Automatic satisfaction, success had easily. Give us the grub (or story), you get your money. Yet both were screwed up.

In the restaurant (1), we ordered our food. Despite there being only two other parties (with at least 6 staff in sight) our burgers and quesadillas took an hour to arrive. (Without being a trained chef, I could’ve whipped this order up in 15 minutes.) Irritation is trying to explain to a nine-year-old, over-and-over, what could be taking so long when there’s no reason for the wait. (They were not slaughtering the cow on-site, after all.)

The likely culprit: Putting teenagers in charge of a restaurant. (I have one myself, so I recognize the M.O.) In other words, laziness.

 

In the book (2), I started with the opening page. The book begins with a seven-line sentence about, say, the virtues of one sniper bullet (skull-puncturing force at a premium) over another. A paragraph-length run-on sentence–an editor’s nightmare. Not art. Not describing some nuance of the human condition. No, a round of ammunition (for a villain who likely wouldn’t last past the 3rd chapter).

Book closed. No wisdom to be had.

The likely culprit: A publisher saying, after 20 bestsellers, “This guy doesn’t need any editing or proofreading.” In other words, laziness.

 

The End Result

Call me old-fashioned, but I feel that it’s my job to present the best-possible product (novel) I can. No run-on sentences or typos or glaring errors (a few small ones can’t be helped, I guess). Someone always needs to be minding the store. Things won’t just take care of themselves. Nothing truly is idiot-proof.

So, maybe after 20 novels, I’m lazy enough to hash out a long-winded chunk of schlock and it gets past a few sets of eyes? Then it’s time to hang up my pen, or shutter the restaurant. Do the job right or don’t do it at all. Restaurants are always hungry for money (they still have a whopping failure rate). A bestseller author has plenty of money. In either case, the drive for more cash shouldn’t fall prey to minimal effort.

Laziness reflects poorly on everyone.