I got my beta reader's notes back last week and started to make the corrections . . . and found typos and awkwardnesses had mysteriously multiplied in the days since I thought I had At the Heart of Chicago cleaned up. I'm now quite certain there's a little man hiding in the guts of my laptop and he hates me.
Yesterday my cover designer, Miyuki Meyer, showed me the cover. Who knew? The girl's a genius. I thought I knew what I wanted, and gave her some suggestions. Only suggestions, since she's the one with the graduate degree in Photography and all, and I know from bitter experience I'm no cover designer. Apparently she knows this, too, because she used none of them. Thank God. The new cover is a wonder of balance, spare and elegant in black and white. Wow. I'll have it up here soon. And yes, Miyuki is available for consultation: firstname.lastname@example.org.
Now what? I hate to say this, but I think I should do one more final (the fourth) run-through before sending the whole thing off to Hitch for formatting. Because this morning, checking back to see if I'd gotten a name right, I found another typo lurking in chapter three. ARGHH. And if I don't catch them now, Hitch will exact a fee for each and every change. As she should. I consider it a penance for slovenly proofing.
On another topic, I woke up thinking about metaphors and similes this morning. I've been reading a mystery with a great plot, good characters, and lousy writing. I mean a really good plot, since it's kept me reading through the most dreadful similes. Someone should tell this poor author that similes have to fit the scene in which they are used. For example, picture the protagonist driving to the store for a loaf of bread and passing the seashore. With a sunrise: 'a great golden globe rolling over a crackled metal sheet'. Say what? Surely grabbing a loaf of bread at the 7-11 doesn't require all this splendor? He wasn't finding enlightenment, or having a religious experience, or even sex. He was half awake and going out for coffee and a loaf of Wonder Bread. Arghh.
Enough. Back when I'm feeling more civil.