Various things have arrived recently.
First, my Daisy Daisy handbag. Lovely! It looks like a soft toy version of a handbag, but you can actually use it. It’s very turquoise. Can’t wait till it’s summery enough outside to justify the mind-bending colour.
Second, Barbie. She’s tall, sassy and gorgeous. Thanks to Herve’s assiduousness, she got here the day after I ordered her. Sadly, I have nowhere to put her out where she’ll be safe from the clutches of the two year-old, so she’s camping out in the top of my wardrobe. One day, however, she’ll have pride of place in my study. When I have a study.
Next to THE COPIES OF MY BOOK.
The first proofs arrived today. Five of them. All Chicken House yellow, cheerful and intriguing. And solid objects that you can open and read.
Of course I was thrilled, but weirdly, I was less thrilled than when I found the book on Amazon, even though these are real copies and that was just a name and a price tag. Go figure. I think I’ve just run out of thrill for the moment. The bank is empty. The river has run dry.
Plus, I was looking for typos. Can’t help it. Haven’t found any yet, but there are a couple of tweaks I’d like to see. Once a proof reader, always a proof reader.
I have to read from one of the copies on Tuesday. Luckily ‘my editor’ has insisted on large type and leading (I love arcane printing terminology – always have), so it’s easy to see the words from a distance with forty two year-old eyes.
I’m staring at the little pile of copies now, still trying to be thrilled. Still just feeling mostly tired. Partly due to the two year-old being awake between two and five this morning.
However, one unexpected paragraph does make me smile. Barry, ‘my publisher’, has written a little foreword that I didn’t know about. It’s sweet and personal and charming and shows how deeply and completely he’s understood my book.
Thank you Barry. Your latest author, though tired and low on thrill factor, is very touched.