From my office window, a view of a farm and a pond.
Out the other window, the classrooms and woods. Yes, that makes the room a corner office, so to speak. There’s even a window out the server room.
On matters too gross for conversation
Possessions better left to others:
Books made of skin.
You know, when a serial killer collects goods like this, it’s another step towards their capture and conviction. When a distinguished library does it, in struts the First Amendment. And here I thought this was an urban legend.
One, one, one more!
Received a definite confirmation from number six of The Eight, and we are on for a review via phone next weekend ( exact details forthcoming ). Number seven — the last reader since number eight’s self-elimination — remains at large, so to speak. They have 50 pages left, and no idea when they might have enough time to finish. When informed of their straggler status, their response: “I figured I would be.”
I understand the delay. Holidays, and a job that requires a few nights in addition to long days, crimps leisure time.
Here’s a few lessons lessons gleaned from The Eight:
1) Stick with the months of January through October when offering people a manuscript to read. Avoid sharing projects right before, or during, holidays. And cross November and December right off the calendar. Too many external distractions, too many real commitments.
2) More eyes means richer, more thoughtful observations.
3) When three or more people agree on a point, LISTEN.
4) Understand how people read books. Freaks like writers often approach stories like a drunk hits a six-pack. Give either enough time and space and boom, they’re done. The hell with work in the morning, just gotta finish. For less inclined individuals, reading is done via stints, in all sorts of places and environments. Eight weeks is a good baseline for turnaround.
In the meantime, I waited this long; another week is no hardship.
Spanish help
One of the characters in the novel speaks Spanish for a brief passage, and I believe they had a more colloquial command of the language than my feeble translation skills could handle. Here fate offered an answer. A lunchtime seating assignment — the students have assigned tables as well, it makes more sense in practice than it sounds — paired me with the Spanish instructor. They accepted, quite gracefully.
Enter the point. A novel is form that supports endless tinkering. An adjustment here, a tweak there, it all means a better finished product. Hopefully. But there are refinements that improve a story, and there are those that are busy work. The trick — I believe — is striking a balance. Allow enough time for a consideration of the finer points, and recognize the point of diminishing returns. This is an area I need more practice in. It’s especially hard when much of the work is mental, since the official revisions are closed until the Eight finishes their reading.
A new beginning looms; a meeting with one of The Eight next week. And then eight will be one.