This is to find out if this new sooper dooper MSN web writer thingy from MSN will do what it says on the tin.
Friday, 20 July 2007
Thursday, 5 July 2007
Nitpicking
I have been picking my way through the MSS in order to see what the editor has done. The one thing that stands out most is how kind he has been, there is very little alteration.
Most of his changes have been grammatical or syntactical (strange word) or where I have put in a surplus comma or colon. He has not had any issue with the style or colour of the writing, which is a huge relief.
I know that there are a few colloquialisms which will have my American readers scratching their heads, but there are a couple which raised my editor's eyebrows. But then I realised - he is not from around here! He is an incomer and has not lived here long enough to have soaked up the lingo.
The question is, do I change it or do I leave it? To change the word may risk changing the flavour slightly, so I think the judicious addition of a couple more words might be in order.
An odd things is that I have not handled the MSS for some time and I find myself being reminded of what I had written - I had actually forgotten some of the things!
Hey ho. On with the work of weeding and cultivating.
Most of his changes have been grammatical or syntactical (strange word) or where I have put in a surplus comma or colon. He has not had any issue with the style or colour of the writing, which is a huge relief.
I know that there are a few colloquialisms which will have my American readers scratching their heads, but there are a couple which raised my editor's eyebrows. But then I realised - he is not from around here! He is an incomer and has not lived here long enough to have soaked up the lingo.
The question is, do I change it or do I leave it? To change the word may risk changing the flavour slightly, so I think the judicious addition of a couple more words might be in order.
An odd things is that I have not handled the MSS for some time and I find myself being reminded of what I had written - I had actually forgotten some of the things!
Hey ho. On with the work of weeding and cultivating.
Monday, 2 July 2007
Baby came back home
Met with my editor today, in a pub of all places. This is a milestone on its own account, since it is the first time I have walked into any public place without apprehension. Perhaps it was the thought of what was waiting for me.
She With The Short Fat Hairy Legs met me there on her way back from Sheffield where she had been visiting her Dad, and we didn't have to wait long before Malcolm walked in, carrying My Baby under his arm, tucked in its little box.
We sat down and I said I felt like I was awaiting a very important exam result and he replied that he could empathise. Then he went on to say "on that analogy, you passed with flying colours!" My poor little heart began its beating again!
He had written a sheet of notes, contained within the bounds of a single sheet of A4, so it didn't look too ominous, but that was only to explain his further notations within.
On opening the sheaf of the MSS, I fully expected to see pages and pages with blue or red scribbles all over them. I expected to see the tracks of a spider crawled out of an inkwell, but this was not to be.
There are many pages without any notation of any sort, and those that have them are only minor. He has changed the odd bit of punctuation and syntax, replaced a couple of colons with full stops and vice versa and has split a couple of sentences.
He has also suggested a new paragraph and moving a couple of sentences to facilitate identification etc.
All in all, not too much, but it still means a lot of careful and tedious work.
My Baby is still just as it was when it left home, except for a couple of trinkets.
Malcolm did say it had been hard for him to do. He became so far engulfed in enjoying the tales that he forgot that he was there to work on them, so had to start again from the beginning. So, he decided to read right through, then get to work!
He told me he liked the style of writing and thought it was all very good, so I asked if he would care to have his name associated with it or would he prefer to remain anonymous - he said he would be proud and delighted to be associated with the book!
Oh, he has agreed to edit the next one for me (on the same terms).
I'm one very 'appy bunny right now, although there is much still to do!
She With The Short Fat Hairy Legs met me there on her way back from Sheffield where she had been visiting her Dad, and we didn't have to wait long before Malcolm walked in, carrying My Baby under his arm, tucked in its little box.
We sat down and I said I felt like I was awaiting a very important exam result and he replied that he could empathise. Then he went on to say "on that analogy, you passed with flying colours!" My poor little heart began its beating again!
He had written a sheet of notes, contained within the bounds of a single sheet of A4, so it didn't look too ominous, but that was only to explain his further notations within.
On opening the sheaf of the MSS, I fully expected to see pages and pages with blue or red scribbles all over them. I expected to see the tracks of a spider crawled out of an inkwell, but this was not to be.
There are many pages without any notation of any sort, and those that have them are only minor. He has changed the odd bit of punctuation and syntax, replaced a couple of colons with full stops and vice versa and has split a couple of sentences.
He has also suggested a new paragraph and moving a couple of sentences to facilitate identification etc.
All in all, not too much, but it still means a lot of careful and tedious work.
My Baby is still just as it was when it left home, except for a couple of trinkets.
Malcolm did say it had been hard for him to do. He became so far engulfed in enjoying the tales that he forgot that he was there to work on them, so had to start again from the beginning. So, he decided to read right through, then get to work!
He told me he liked the style of writing and thought it was all very good, so I asked if he would care to have his name associated with it or would he prefer to remain anonymous - he said he would be proud and delighted to be associated with the book!
Oh, he has agreed to edit the next one for me (on the same terms).
I'm one very 'appy bunny right now, although there is much still to do!
Sunday, 1 July 2007
New Story
I have just completed this story for consideration as an entry in the next book. It will also serve as a companion to the 17th Century pictures I have posted.
Do please read; I apologise for the length as it has yet to be edited. You will find it a bit of a ramble, but I'm confident you will enjoy it.
Where have you been all these years?
I was a member of a Civil War Living History group for a few years, until my health complained, making it so that I could not tolerate nights under canvas, albeit in wonderful surroundings. I played a scrivener which meant that I did not take part in any strenuous activities like chasing up and down the battlefield. I had a huge musket which was very heavy to carry and had a very loud voice. It got so that this was too much for me, as I could no longer tolerate the kick from the black powder explosion within the barrel.
I had to give this up, but I retained some wonderful memories of companionship with fellow members. There was also the general public who visited the houses and castles where we performed. They provided us with as much entertainment as we apparently gave them.
The best were the children, who, in their innocence, were transported back to the 17th Century, into the land of Civil War, Roundheads, Puritans and Cavaliers. This was truly living history for them.
As we were a living history group, we actually lived it for the weekend, espousing all modern speech, artefacts, manners and mores. This was a gentler time, much slower in pace than now.
The public were invited to visit and to mingle with us on our campsite, to ask as many questions as they wished and we all were only too happy to pose for photos with them. The ladies were fascinated by the cooking over campfires and always asked about the recipes used. They were often surprised by the sophistication of the menus used in concocting the food. It is always a misconception that the food was bland and limited to only a very few ingredients. This was not so, of course, since they had the wealth of produce grown on the farm and in the garden. Meat was abundant, though people tended not to slaughter their only source of milk. Spices were available, though not of the great range that we have now, since many of them were only then being discovered.
Tobacco was a new fad from the Virginia Colonies and potatoes were only recently introduced. Tomatoes were a rarity and were called ‘love apples’ since they were thought to be a powerful aphrodisiac. Game was available, though the penalties for taking it were harsh for those caught.
Another object of fascination was always the armour and weapons. The period of the Civil War was one of change where the old style battle formation of cavalry and hand to hand fighting was giving over to the modern stand off method, where the armies stood away from each other and attempted to pound each other to pieces. Men still fought hand to hand, of course, as pikes – those long poles with pointed or bladed ends, often comprised the main attack armament. The weapon developed to protect the pikes, the musket, was beginning to be more important than the musket itself, which had come to replace the cross bow and long bow. Whereas it took a lifetime to train an archer, a musketeer could be in the line, firing volleys within fifteen minutes of first laying hands on one.
Armour was still in use, reminiscent of medieval times and often, men of rank would wear it simply because it had been passed down to them through the generations. Its use petered out as it was found to afford little protection against a fast travelling lump of lead.
Since we enacted day to day living away from the battlefield, our everyday activities reflected this so far as we were able. My friend Sir William and I occupied a tent, forming a double act. I played Ambrose Salathiel, scrivener to Sir William. He did little more than look and act the part of a moderately wealthy landowner, fallen upon hard times in the War, whilst I played my part with my writing desk and paraphernalia.
Children loved to come visit us, attracted by the easily recognisable Sir William, who seemed to fill most people’s idea of a Puritan. These children would, naturally, have their parents with them. Some of the kids’ questions were silly, but most were quite astute as they struggled to grasp the concept of seeing and talking with these throwbacks to ancient times. Their language and outlook was of the 21st Century, whereas ours was of the 17th, two cultures widely separated by the years.
At Kenilworth Castle, sometimes referred to as Kenilgrad because of its exposure to wind which becomes rather uncomfortable in cold weather, we had the usual encampment. Their usual compliment of visitors was expanded by those who had come in response to my publicity to see what all the fuss was about.
It was at that weekend when we learned of the death of the Queen Mother. We decided to mark the sad occasion by a musket salute, offered in seventeenth century fashion. This was well received and appreciated by the crowds.
Sir William and I were in the tent, chatting about this and that when we were approached by a small family group of mother, father and two children, one of them a girl of about eight or nine years and her younger brother, perhaps about six years.
Naturally, we were talking in the proper fashion, about things of the time, with no modern language. Sir William pretended surprise that these people were here, and bade them good day. The little girl said hello, and asked who we were.
Sir William introduced us and the girl asked why we were there. Sir William explained that he was a landowner in Nottinghamshire who had been dispossessed by the War and had joined this band of travelling people who wished no harm to others, but would defend themselves if necessary.
“Do you live in this tent?” asked the girl, to which Sir William replied “No, I have another tent for living. This is my office.”
“What do you office about then?” she asked.
“I command a group of sword, young Mistress and I officiate in civil matters too.”
“What is the candle for?” she asked, pointing to the candle on his table.
“Why, Mistress, that is so that I might see to read, and to light my way to bed.”
“Don’t you have lights?”
“Indeed we do, we have many candles. I can afford to buy them, you see.”
“I mean, don’t you have lights in your house?”
“I just said, Mistress, we have candles and lanterns.”
“No, I mean lights. Light bulbs. You click a switch and the light comes on. They’re a lot brighter than these candles.”
She paused, then went on “Anyway, if you don’t have lights, what do you do when it gets dark?”
“Oh, that is simple, Mistress. I get my flint and tinder, light my candle and go to bed.”
“What?” she asked incredulously, “you go to bed just because it gets dark?”
“Oh, yes” replied Sir William, “I always read a few passages from my Bible, but I struggle you see, because my eyes are not good.”
“You should get some glasses then!” she said brightly.
“Glasses?” asked Sir William, “what are they?”
“Glasses, you know – glasses. For your eyes. To help you read!”
“Ah!” he said, as if the penny had just dropped, “I have heard of these things.”
“Where would I get some of these ‘glasses’ you speak of?”
“From the optician of course!” she told him, as if to a child.
“Where would I find such a man?” asked Sir William.
She thought about this for a minute and then replied “In a shop in town. Ours is next to the television shop.”
“What is television?”
That question stopped her dead in her tracks. She looked at him dumbstruck. “Don’t you know what a television is?”
“No, that is why I asked you what the word means.”
“Do you?” she asked, turning to me, “do you know what television means?”
“I regret to admit, young Mistress, that I do not,” I answered, trying hard to keep a straight face, “will you be so kind as to explain to Sir William and myself?”
“Well,” she began, drawing herself up to her schoolmarmy full height, “television is a box you have in your living room, or your bedroom or wherever you want to put it.”
“Ah,” I said, “we know about boxes, for they are the same as these chests,” I said, pointing to a couple of travelling chests on the ground in the tent.
“No, no!” she exclaimed, flapping her hands, “not like those. These are made of plastic, with a glass screen that you watch pictures on!”
I thought it best not to go into ‘plastic’ right now, so I asked her what sort of pictures she could see in this ‘screen’.
“They’re pictures that you watch. Like football and racing and plays and films and quizzes and all that.”
Sir William jumped in again with “Do you tell me, young Mistress, that you sit and look at portrait pictures on this glass thing? I have portraits on my wall at home but I do not sit and watch them.”
“No, silly, these pictures move; it’s just like being there.”
“Moving pictures? Do you tell me that pictures actually move? What witchcraft is this?”
“No, not witchcraft. Don’t you know anything?” she asked. She was becoming quite exasperated now. Time to cool down a little.
“Pray tell this simple man” said Sir William, putting his hand to his chest, “more of this. By what means does your ‘tellervision’ work, is it by this ‘trickity’ you spoke of? “
“Trickity? Oh, you mean electricity! Yes, it is. You plug it in to the socket, switch on and you watch it. My Dad likes to watch the news and Mummy watches the soaps and we watch children’s television.”
“Do you tell me, young Mistress, that your Mummy sits and watches soaps? Do you mean soaps in the wash tub? My washer woman does that sort of thing.”
“No, silly, stories about people.”
“Oh dear,” asked Sir William, “I fear you are confusing me greatly. Do you mean you have your washing in this tellervision box that you speak of?”
The little girl looked at Sir William, then at me with my quill in hand. Then she looked at her Mum who was trying her hardest not to laugh, turned back to Sir William and pronounced with all the authority of an eight year old “You really are stupid. You don’t know anything, do you?”
She paused, then asked “Where have you been all these years anyway?”
Do please read; I apologise for the length as it has yet to be edited. You will find it a bit of a ramble, but I'm confident you will enjoy it.
Where have you been all these years?
I was a member of a Civil War Living History group for a few years, until my health complained, making it so that I could not tolerate nights under canvas, albeit in wonderful surroundings. I played a scrivener which meant that I did not take part in any strenuous activities like chasing up and down the battlefield. I had a huge musket which was very heavy to carry and had a very loud voice. It got so that this was too much for me, as I could no longer tolerate the kick from the black powder explosion within the barrel.
I had to give this up, but I retained some wonderful memories of companionship with fellow members. There was also the general public who visited the houses and castles where we performed. They provided us with as much entertainment as we apparently gave them.
The best were the children, who, in their innocence, were transported back to the 17th Century, into the land of Civil War, Roundheads, Puritans and Cavaliers. This was truly living history for them.
As we were a living history group, we actually lived it for the weekend, espousing all modern speech, artefacts, manners and mores. This was a gentler time, much slower in pace than now.
The public were invited to visit and to mingle with us on our campsite, to ask as many questions as they wished and we all were only too happy to pose for photos with them. The ladies were fascinated by the cooking over campfires and always asked about the recipes used. They were often surprised by the sophistication of the menus used in concocting the food. It is always a misconception that the food was bland and limited to only a very few ingredients. This was not so, of course, since they had the wealth of produce grown on the farm and in the garden. Meat was abundant, though people tended not to slaughter their only source of milk. Spices were available, though not of the great range that we have now, since many of them were only then being discovered.
Tobacco was a new fad from the Virginia Colonies and potatoes were only recently introduced. Tomatoes were a rarity and were called ‘love apples’ since they were thought to be a powerful aphrodisiac. Game was available, though the penalties for taking it were harsh for those caught.
Another object of fascination was always the armour and weapons. The period of the Civil War was one of change where the old style battle formation of cavalry and hand to hand fighting was giving over to the modern stand off method, where the armies stood away from each other and attempted to pound each other to pieces. Men still fought hand to hand, of course, as pikes – those long poles with pointed or bladed ends, often comprised the main attack armament. The weapon developed to protect the pikes, the musket, was beginning to be more important than the musket itself, which had come to replace the cross bow and long bow. Whereas it took a lifetime to train an archer, a musketeer could be in the line, firing volleys within fifteen minutes of first laying hands on one.
Armour was still in use, reminiscent of medieval times and often, men of rank would wear it simply because it had been passed down to them through the generations. Its use petered out as it was found to afford little protection against a fast travelling lump of lead.
Since we enacted day to day living away from the battlefield, our everyday activities reflected this so far as we were able. My friend Sir William and I occupied a tent, forming a double act. I played Ambrose Salathiel, scrivener to Sir William. He did little more than look and act the part of a moderately wealthy landowner, fallen upon hard times in the War, whilst I played my part with my writing desk and paraphernalia.
Children loved to come visit us, attracted by the easily recognisable Sir William, who seemed to fill most people’s idea of a Puritan. These children would, naturally, have their parents with them. Some of the kids’ questions were silly, but most were quite astute as they struggled to grasp the concept of seeing and talking with these throwbacks to ancient times. Their language and outlook was of the 21st Century, whereas ours was of the 17th, two cultures widely separated by the years.
At Kenilworth Castle, sometimes referred to as Kenilgrad because of its exposure to wind which becomes rather uncomfortable in cold weather, we had the usual encampment. Their usual compliment of visitors was expanded by those who had come in response to my publicity to see what all the fuss was about.
It was at that weekend when we learned of the death of the Queen Mother. We decided to mark the sad occasion by a musket salute, offered in seventeenth century fashion. This was well received and appreciated by the crowds.
Sir William and I were in the tent, chatting about this and that when we were approached by a small family group of mother, father and two children, one of them a girl of about eight or nine years and her younger brother, perhaps about six years.
Naturally, we were talking in the proper fashion, about things of the time, with no modern language. Sir William pretended surprise that these people were here, and bade them good day. The little girl said hello, and asked who we were.
Sir William introduced us and the girl asked why we were there. Sir William explained that he was a landowner in Nottinghamshire who had been dispossessed by the War and had joined this band of travelling people who wished no harm to others, but would defend themselves if necessary.
“Do you live in this tent?” asked the girl, to which Sir William replied “No, I have another tent for living. This is my office.”
“What do you office about then?” she asked.
“I command a group of sword, young Mistress and I officiate in civil matters too.”
“What is the candle for?” she asked, pointing to the candle on his table.
“Why, Mistress, that is so that I might see to read, and to light my way to bed.”
“Don’t you have lights?”
“Indeed we do, we have many candles. I can afford to buy them, you see.”
“I mean, don’t you have lights in your house?”
“I just said, Mistress, we have candles and lanterns.”
“No, I mean lights. Light bulbs. You click a switch and the light comes on. They’re a lot brighter than these candles.”
She paused, then went on “Anyway, if you don’t have lights, what do you do when it gets dark?”
“Oh, that is simple, Mistress. I get my flint and tinder, light my candle and go to bed.”
“What?” she asked incredulously, “you go to bed just because it gets dark?”
“Oh, yes” replied Sir William, “I always read a few passages from my Bible, but I struggle you see, because my eyes are not good.”
“You should get some glasses then!” she said brightly.
“Glasses?” asked Sir William, “what are they?”
“Glasses, you know – glasses. For your eyes. To help you read!”
“Ah!” he said, as if the penny had just dropped, “I have heard of these things.”
“Where would I get some of these ‘glasses’ you speak of?”
“From the optician of course!” she told him, as if to a child.
“Where would I find such a man?” asked Sir William.
She thought about this for a minute and then replied “In a shop in town. Ours is next to the television shop.”
“What is television?”
That question stopped her dead in her tracks. She looked at him dumbstruck. “Don’t you know what a television is?”
“No, that is why I asked you what the word means.”
“Do you?” she asked, turning to me, “do you know what television means?”
“I regret to admit, young Mistress, that I do not,” I answered, trying hard to keep a straight face, “will you be so kind as to explain to Sir William and myself?”
“Well,” she began, drawing herself up to her schoolmarmy full height, “television is a box you have in your living room, or your bedroom or wherever you want to put it.”
“Ah,” I said, “we know about boxes, for they are the same as these chests,” I said, pointing to a couple of travelling chests on the ground in the tent.
“No, no!” she exclaimed, flapping her hands, “not like those. These are made of plastic, with a glass screen that you watch pictures on!”
I thought it best not to go into ‘plastic’ right now, so I asked her what sort of pictures she could see in this ‘screen’.
“They’re pictures that you watch. Like football and racing and plays and films and quizzes and all that.”
Sir William jumped in again with “Do you tell me, young Mistress, that you sit and look at portrait pictures on this glass thing? I have portraits on my wall at home but I do not sit and watch them.”
“No, silly, these pictures move; it’s just like being there.”
“Moving pictures? Do you tell me that pictures actually move? What witchcraft is this?”
“No, not witchcraft. Don’t you know anything?” she asked. She was becoming quite exasperated now. Time to cool down a little.
“Pray tell this simple man” said Sir William, putting his hand to his chest, “more of this. By what means does your ‘tellervision’ work, is it by this ‘trickity’ you spoke of? “
“Trickity? Oh, you mean electricity! Yes, it is. You plug it in to the socket, switch on and you watch it. My Dad likes to watch the news and Mummy watches the soaps and we watch children’s television.”
“Do you tell me, young Mistress, that your Mummy sits and watches soaps? Do you mean soaps in the wash tub? My washer woman does that sort of thing.”
“No, silly, stories about people.”
“Oh dear,” asked Sir William, “I fear you are confusing me greatly. Do you mean you have your washing in this tellervision box that you speak of?”
The little girl looked at Sir William, then at me with my quill in hand. Then she looked at her Mum who was trying her hardest not to laugh, turned back to Sir William and pronounced with all the authority of an eight year old “You really are stupid. You don’t know anything, do you?”
She paused, then asked “Where have you been all these years anyway?”
What's next?
What comes next? I know everyone is exicted about this project (so it seems to me) and I've been given tremedous support both in words and deeds. I suspect that people do know how much these words mean to me. I'm chuffed by all your support.
All I can say is "Thank you immensly!"
So, what happens now?
Well, first I have to go through the edit with all that this entails. It will certainly mean that all my nice paginations will have been shot to heeee---re and back, so that after the re-edit, I will have to re-paginate from start to finish.
Once I have done that, and 'fixed' the pages so that the type doesn't move about, it will be almost ready for uploading.
After conversion to pdf, it will be uploaded to Lulu.
The cover art so magnificently crafted by Mikal will be loaded upwards at the same time and I will purchase a distribution service, including my ISBN for the work.
Once uploaded and the technicals are satisfied, I have to purchase 1(one) copy. This serves to create a legal entity in the book and to give me a proof copy to make sure that everything has come out hunkey dory.
Once I approve this, then it can go into the system, at which time it will be available for purchase from outside, first via Lulu.com, then, as the system kicks in, via Amazon, Barnes and Noble and the other book distribution networks (if I have understood it all correctly).
Then, and only then, will people will be able to buy. What will happen at this eventuality, is that whenever anyone buys a copy, the order goes to the printer (in New Jersey or Barcelona, Spain although I think I saw a note somewhere that they now have a printer in the UK) who then prints that single copy specially for you, then dispatches it to you.
Simple really, or so I'm told.
Watch this space.
All I can say is "Thank you immensly!"
So, what happens now?
Well, first I have to go through the edit with all that this entails. It will certainly mean that all my nice paginations will have been shot to heeee---re and back, so that after the re-edit, I will have to re-paginate from start to finish.
Once I have done that, and 'fixed' the pages so that the type doesn't move about, it will be almost ready for uploading.
After conversion to pdf, it will be uploaded to Lulu.
The cover art so magnificently crafted by Mikal will be loaded upwards at the same time and I will purchase a distribution service, including my ISBN for the work.
Once uploaded and the technicals are satisfied, I have to purchase 1(one) copy. This serves to create a legal entity in the book and to give me a proof copy to make sure that everything has come out hunkey dory.
Once I approve this, then it can go into the system, at which time it will be available for purchase from outside, first via Lulu.com, then, as the system kicks in, via Amazon, Barnes and Noble and the other book distribution networks (if I have understood it all correctly).
Then, and only then, will people will be able to buy. What will happen at this eventuality, is that whenever anyone buys a copy, the order goes to the printer (in New Jersey or Barcelona, Spain although I think I saw a note somewhere that they now have a printer in the UK) who then prints that single copy specially for you, then dispatches it to you.
Simple really, or so I'm told.
Watch this space.
The Manuscript
Good news. The editor has finished his work and will hand over the suitably mutilated, sorry, annotated script tomorrow. Then my work begins again to incorporate all his changes, advice etc. This will include correcting any typos, goolies and clangers. It will also incorporate any suggestions he may have as to formulation and the removal of any hiccoughs where I may have repeated myself.
This is all usual routine, but I have never been there before, not on this scale anyway. My other published bits have tended to be published exactly 'as is' but they were not on this scale.
Oh, and I have another couple of pictures which may well be added.
Hey ho, roll on tomorrow. Actually, it will be an eventful day as two things will happen. One, custody of my baby will be restored to me, and I will actually enter a Public House, the first time for a long time.
Oh, I received an email today from a friend down in Plymouth who says he would be "delighted and honoured " to give me a review reference for the book! " (He has seen the draft).
This is all usual routine, but I have never been there before, not on this scale anyway. My other published bits have tended to be published exactly 'as is' but they were not on this scale.
Oh, and I have another couple of pictures which may well be added.
Hey ho, roll on tomorrow. Actually, it will be an eventful day as two things will happen. One, custody of my baby will be restored to me, and I will actually enter a Public House, the first time for a long time.
Oh, I received an email today from a friend down in Plymouth who says he would be "delighted and honoured " to give me a review reference for the book! " (He has seen the draft).
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