and don’t keep up your house, the county seizes it and paints the home neat colors.

Welcome to New Jersey. Come and see it for yourself. 😉
and don’t keep up your house, the county seizes it and paints the home neat colors.

Welcome to New Jersey. Come and see it for yourself. 😉
When will the insanity stop?
I’ve come to the following conclusion at work — with some reservation — about my most recent predecessor:
1) He knew almost nothing about technology.
2) Ignorance did not get in his way; he broke goddamn near everything.
Things I would do to him, in this order:
1) Shake his hand.
2) Thank him for being incompetent.
3) Stuff him beneath a garbage dumpster, suit lapels facing the alley.
Heheheh. I’m an August man, myself.

Had the last of three phone calls with number six of The Eight. Long distance discussions regarding written materials are tricky, and we managed, though it required more time than other feedback session. Fortunately my cell provider offers a rollover plan, and the balance stood at 1400 minutes, at least before this week. Thank you, Cingular.
Based on number six’s encouragement, I decided to charge ahead without waiting for number seven. Before explaining that decision, consider the chronology of this novel.
January 7, 2004
Work on a primitive draft begins.
October 10, 2004.
After several false starts, decide that this time, no matter what, I’m writing thirty decent pages. If I fail, I’ll write another type of story. Or drink professionally again.
November 1, 2004.
Finish a solid draft. Manuscript stands at 353 pages.
November 7, 2005.
A week of revisions, a day of printing. Distribute manuscripts to the Eight ( pre-submit readers )
November 25, 2005
Numbers one and two of the Eight finish. Feedback discussions held. Numbers three, four and five follow in December.
Late December 2005.
Bowing to work pressure, number seven recuses self. Explanation understood by both sides.
January 21, 2006.
Last feedback discussion with number six.
The chronology makes me ponder the actual age of the project. On a timeline basis, the novel’s lifespan stands at twenty-four months. However, I consider it thirteen months old, because the real lifting happened between October 2004 and November 2005, ending with a two and change month lull while I collected reader feedback. Granted, waiting is part of the process — by some accounts, the most critical piece — but if my ass isn’t in a chair writing, it doesn’t feel like work.
And now to what may seem a rash decision: charging into the revisions without waiting for the last reader. Why reverse my position after waiting so long? Because it’s not a reversal. Though dubbed The Eight, I expected a few might never reach the finish line. Life happens, and most people have very little spare time for reading, especially during the holidays. When fate throws a curve, adapt. The surprise was not that one dropped out, and another remains at large, but that so many finished so quickly. To me, that two readers finished in less than three weeks is a very positive sign.
Starting Monday, I’ll review the master copy that has the critical suggestions from all readers, from page one, to the end. My plan of attack from that point:
1) Consolidate the feedback into a spreadsheet.
2) Using triage logic, rank the list into areas needing the most attention, and areas that are less important, a la Sol Stein. He’s edited more mega-sellers than most, and the tactic is straight out of his playbook. He ruled before spreadsheets were born, but the idea is the same.
3) Implment the fixes, most important first.
4) Follow step three, addressing each issue until completion.
How long might this process take? By mid-week, I’ll have an idea.