A Girl...

Working Magic

Some things:

1. Although for the last week it's been sunny one day and overcast-slash-threatening the next, the overall temperatures have certainly improved, being anything than what they were over the winter (i.e., nut-knockingly cold). The unusual way I've found to celebrate this turn is by being as warm as possible as often as possible. For example, it's in the mid-60s right now and I have my spaceheater cranked as high as I did in December; my feet are swollen like hot air balloons and I'm not going to do a thing about it because I suffered and complained too long to not appreciate what I've got. Also, when sitting on the couch at home, I'm still turning the spaceheater on "Hi" and roasting my legs until the hairs start to singe and the smell ruins my appetite for whatever we're feasting on. (Dinner and a movie at the same time is one of the world's greatest inventions. Thank you, 1950s!) We are also still sleeping with the electric blanket every night even though when we get out of bed in the morning we have to wring out the sheets. Now, instead of being awakened in the night by Purricane Eve, I'm also awakened in the night by the fire alarm, having been set off by the smoke from our body heat when we're not even touching.

2. I recently started working with a new freelancer, and she's proving my theory that in this business--the editorial business--knowing grammar rules is the easy part and it's the other stuff (mainly interpersonal relations) that causes all the headaches and can only be learned through years of experience in the Art of Finesse. In this case, my freelance typesetter, while kind and generous and a real professional at what she does, has turned out to be a little on the sensitive side when it comes to receiving corrections. Now, considering that my number one task is to look for mistakes and instruct her to correct them and that her number one task is to make the corrections I indicate, you'd think that would be a hint to her that I'm probably going to look for mistakes and instruct her to correct them. (If everyone were perfect, my job would be more like quality control, requiring little more than a glance, a stamp (Inspected by Number 36!), and a gentle shove down the assembly line. But because no one is perfect, typos and corrections and tweaks are inevitable, and therefore asking a typesetter to implement those changes is a necessary and normal part of the process.)

The last time I got back proofs from the typesetter, however, the pages were peppered little notes next to some of my corrections, notes that corresponded to more indepth emails that, together, make it seem as if by pointing out an imperfection in the manuscript I've wounded her to the very soul with a jagged and rusty blade and then poured flesh-eating spiders into the open wound. Keep in mind that this woman was hired to lay out (not even design) someone else's book, so it's not like I'm dealing with an author who has slaved over a manuscript for twenty years or a designer who is making "art"--both cases in which there's leeway for them to take editorial corrections personally. In this case, though, I'm not slashing around with my red pencil of doom, ripping gashes in the thesis or stabbing the display fonts. No, this typesetter is just cutting and pasting someone else's text into someone else's design (and doing a damn fine job of it too), and all I'm asking her to do is add a few periods and break a few end-of-line words differently: "wood-pecker" instead of "woodpe-cker," for instance. In repsonse, she's getting sensitive and weepy and I'm faced with the baffling circumstance of feeling like I need to hold her hand and pat her head reassuringly every time I need her to delete a comma--a comma that was never even hers to begin with.

Over the years, I've had some harrowing on-the-job sensitivity training. I know now that authors and designers are a feisty breed and that any response other than "Yes, sir," "Of course, sir," "Whatever you say, sir" (or "ma'am") requires a dose of grace and a heap of tact and maybe some kissing of the ass region. A spoonful of flattery makes the constructive criticism go down, so they say. I've learned this and I know it well.

But between an editor and a hired typesetter, time is money and shorthand is the norm, so what's a girl to do when her counterpart takes every little pencil mark personally? Is my standard proofreading shorthand coming across as overly aggressive? Instead of just crossing something out, do I need to write "Please remove the comma" in the margin? How about a bit of stationery carefully inscribed "Could you be a lamb and pretty please insert a space between these two words? It would be really really great if you could do that. I would really really appreciate it. Thanks a million!"? Obviously, that last bit is an exaggeration, but it serves to highlight the point that overly and inappropriately sensitive people are a pain in the ass perception's a bitch. Sometimes a typo is just a typo and not a judgement on your worth as a person. Get over it. (In the meantime, however, I will continue to coddle her with kidgloves because that's the type of professional I am. Harrumph.)

3. We watched The Prestige last night, and boy oh boy was it ever good, both despite the fact and because of the fact that I figured it out halfway through. The biggest surprise actually came when the credits started to roll and when it happened, Simon and I both popped out of our cushiony slumps, sat bolt upright, and raised our arms and voices in an impressive clamor. (If you want to know why, email me; I don't want to spoil it for anyone.) Anyway, it was a seriously good movie and I highly recommend it. My only bit of advice is that if you're interested in seeing the other magician movie that came out around the same time, The Illusionist, watch the latter one first because it's only a fraction of a percent as good as the former. Clarification: Illusionist = meh; Prestige = awesome. Another equation to remember is