G. Spratt, The Circulating Library, c. 1830. Rijkmuseum
Actually, I never write “The End” at the end of my manuscripts. When the words stop, that seems to be a big enough clue.
So I didn’t write it this time, either, but all who have been wondering when in blazes I’d ever finish the Blackwoods’ story now have the answer. Thursday 11 January. About 10:30pm. It’s now in my editor’s hands. After she reads it, she will return it to me with questions and notes and such, and I will make the necessary revisions. That is to say, if she doesn’t decide it’s beyond hope and gently suggests I find another profession.
If, however, she is able to work with it, and I can make it better for her (actually, for you), it will then be turned over to the copy editor, who’ll go through it, looking for inconsistencies and grammatical insanities and oddities. Meanwhile he/she will be putting in the hieroglyphs that the printers understand for formatting. Then it’s my turn again, to review what the copy editor hath wrought, and add or subtract my own things. It’s my last chance to make any significant changes.
Then it goes to the printer and gets made to look like a book, but not the final book, because I get to go over it once more, looking for errors that somehow the ten thousand people who’ve gone over this thing have missed. And of course, no matter what, no matter how many people check and re-check, it will go out into the world with a mistake or two. There are always sneaky little devils that manage to hide from all those probing eyes. Ask any author. There’s even an Internet meme about it.
All of which is to say, it’ll be a while before the book is in fact a book you can buy in a shop or online. However, when I have a publication date, I’ll let you know. Or you’ll be able to tell by the screaming and laughing and crying, which you will hear over great distances. My neighbors will see me dancing in the street, champagne glass aloft.
It’s been a long journey. Thank you for waiting so patiently.