The Pig-Headed Author
by
Jeff Stimpson
Over a family brunch, the subject of the book
Alex comes up. Aunt Julie, as anybody in their right
mind likes to do, takes a poke at her younger sibling. "Why is
Jill's picture in the book?" she asks me. "It's your book!"
"Because I'm Alex's mother," replies Jill, weeks
later, "and I happen to be married to the pig-headed author." She
may have come up with the lightning bolt of putting Alex's first
footprints on the book's cover, but Jill might re-think her position
as Author Stimpson's imagist.
She is pissy over the shorthand abbreviation of
Pulse Oximeter, which I have apparently mangled in a book-length
manuscript to "pulseox." Jill thinks this looks illiterate, and that
it needs to be separated into "pulse ox."
I do some research and e-mail her what I think is
a warm yet professional note spelling out my case for "pulseox." "I
have been unable to track down a concrete spelling of the slang for
'pulse oximeter,'" I write. "Closest I've come is here-" I insert
the URL of a site I think handles medical-transcription software.
"This site says 'pulseox' as freely as it says 'neb,' among other
terms we are all too familiar with. Again, the main point: There is,
as of yet, no fixed spelling of the slang of pulse oximeter, nor is
the term trademarked, which is often the reason common trade names
are capitalized at all. I feel the hyphen is unnecessary, and
capitalization an unneeded bow to the corporations that build these
devices. 'Pulseox' as it is used in the book is conversational and
familiar. I feel the presentation helps convey just how common these
machines were in our lives."
"You know that site you sent me?" Jill counters
that evening. "It says that that is the accepted spelling of pulse
ox after first reference."
My point precisely, I tell her.
She pauses. "I want you to change it to, 'I happen
to be married to the authorgraphically-challenged, pig-headed
author.'"
Okay, though I can't find a spelling fixed or
otherwise for "authographically." This is just part of the fun of
proofing nearly 300 pages of your own writing.
The publisher e-mailed me a PDF last week of
Alex, which allows me to get a jump on proofing the real galleys
that should arrive in the next day or so. Proofreading the book is
proving much harder than writing it, though, in the case of Alex,
not harder than living it. How in hell did I manage to spell "x-ray"
three different ways? Couldn't I make up my mind about "T-shirt?"
The whole book has a breathless and shallow tone to it anyway,
written by somebody who was in too much of a hurry to impress
readers to get the story right and make it as rich as it deserved.
Jill says she has "a good feeling" about the book. I guess it will
do okay - but not unless I do something about all this
botched-up introduction of family members, the clunky definitions of
medical terms, and the misused commas.
When I get sick of proofreading, which takes about
15 seconds, I do productive things like Google the title of my book
to see where it pops up. So far, it's stalled at about 35 entries,
but they do include bookselling sites in Japan, France, Germany, and
the U.K. Fuckers on Amazon have it discounted by a third. And don't
get me started on free public libraries!
Publishing a book is a beginning, not an end: a
beginning of pounding the bricks and keyboard in a way that the
stereotype big-time author wouldn't deign to do. Luckily, this does
provide me with a lot of things to do to avoid proofreading:
-Made a running "marketing list" of stuff to do,
in a Word file Jill dubbed "Publicity for Jeff." Among the notes:
"Hospital gift shops"; "Have input on press release"; "What about
postcards and bookmarks?"; "Bookstore signings - Call them six to
eight weeks in advance." (Note to New Writers: Working on this list
is a lot more fun than proofing or writing, or for that matter even
reading, your own book.)
- Using a dandy book on marketing books, which
Jill steered me toward, I've found a Web site of every daily
newspaper in the United States. State by state, I'm clicked to the
papers' sites and cut-and-pasted some 300 names of book critics,
feature writers, and medical editors from Washington Post to
the Anchorage Whatever. I followed this up with about 50
names from weekly newspapers. Publicity is more important than
advertising! According to the marketing book, I need a stunt.
Something not too dangerous. No heights or spiders.
- I combed my card files and my memory to find
anybody who won't throw the book information away, and passed on
some 45 names and stuff to the publishers. They don't say it and
neither do I, but many of our mutual hopes are pinned on an old
family friend of Jill's who writes for The New York Times.
(Note for Publicity List: Go back to this essay
and edit out "Anchorage Whatever" should book hit it big in
Alaska.)
-I remembered to keep posting on my Web site. I
like to think I will continue to dance with the one that brung me.
- I answered scrumptious e-mails: "Wow. The book
sounds compelling. We do have a book page. Any chance the publisher
can send us a review copy?" "Have your publicist send a press kit to
me, and I'll see if I can find someone here to toss it to. I'm sure
the books editor, Frank Wilson, is already on their press list. But
it couldn't hurt to push it along myself. It might be worthwhile for
me to propose it to our medical desk." "That's great!" "We'd be
happy to help!"
And today, from the first person I know of to
receive the galley (even before I did), a lovely lady from Indiana
who was there from Alex's beginnings:
"OH MY GOD! THANK YOU, THANK YOU, THANK YOU for
having the publisher send me an advance copy of the book! I have
CHILLS! IT'S BEAUTIFUL. I just this minute opened it, so I've not
read a word except for the letters that came with it and the cover.
It's stunning and I'm sure the inside is just as good. I LOVE the
footprints and I LOVE the design. I'm crying. I am so happy that
this book has been born! I will read, I know, from cover to cover
tonight. I love you!"
I love you, too. Now help me look up
"authorgraphically."
Copyright 2004 Jeff Stimpson, all rights reserved
