Book Proofs
Reading the proofs of Indian Summer
is now a thing of the past. There was one silly mistake I found which
was in the manuscript that we sent to Transworld following
incorporating all the bits and pieces which came to light thanks to
the copy editing (carried out once more by Yvonne Holland who is
absolutely first class). This time Transworld have decided to submit
an electronic version to the printers rather than to have the book
typeset in the traditional way so the only mistakes should be the
ones we made in the first place – and so it turned out to be.
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| Odd to remember that the inspiration for the setting of this book was near St Neats in Cornwall. We had stopped to let Jossie (below) out of the car for a moment and we were standing on this bridge looking down at the little river below and through the trees to the building with its barn when something clicked in Marcia's mind. Mind you, all of this was in the wrong place so the whole lot was (mentally) moved to the edge of Dartmoor behind Ashburton. |
The advent of modern technology into
the art of writing is both exciting and worrying. Speaking as a
simple hack, I find being able to write on a machine that gives me
the option of makes changes as and when I want to is wonderful. I
remember one book that I wrote where I had considerable problems with
one chapter. In the end I retyped that chapter thirteen times and
that is something you never forget. It's a bit like proof reading. On
the one hand you are bored silly – on the other you have to retain
a high level of concentration. But, and there is always a but, it
means changes which almost certainly have a bad effect on some people
– but, of course, a good effect on others. The obvious example is
internet book selling which has hammered the high street bookshop
(which we all love in theory but generally do not support in
practice). On the other hand, you have a far wider choice on Amazon
and they do employ a lot of people even if in an environment that,
from all that I have read, I would find intolerable.
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| The little river and (below) the house with its barn. |
As to passing on text files from author
to printer and cutting out the typesetter, well it is obviously not
good for typesetters. However, if it keeps the prices of books down
and so makes them more accessible, that must be good. Incidentally,
having done spells of typesetting (as happens sometimes when you edit
things in a very small publishing house) I know from personal
experience that that is another example of something that is both
boring and demanding high levels of concentration.
Blackbirds
The garden is now full of baby birds
being fed by careworn and rather scruffy looking adults. It was a
peaceful afternoon a few days ago. Marcia had just finished a stint
of writing and was relaxing in the garden. I was in the kitchen.
Suddenly there was an almighty crack and a baby blackbird crashed
into the kitchen door (which is mainly glass). It seems that a
springer spaniel (probably the maddest breed there is) suddenly
roared up from the lane, rushed around our lawn and then took off
again. The people with whom the dog was walking took no notice but
not so the birds. They, of course, scattered – and one, a baby
blackbird, had come to grief.
It is always difficult to know what to
do when a bird is injured. This one was lying on its side, beak open,
tongue lolling but still breathing. I picked it up and checked wings
and legs: nothing broken as far as I could see.
Years ago I was told that shock can be
a killer in these circumstances and the injured bird or animal should
be kept warm if possible. Whether or not this is correct I really
don't know but I held it for some time until its breathing became
more regular and then I put it down on the grass.
It was then, as you can see, sitting
upright – or nearly so – which made us a bit more hopeful.
I'm not sure when Marcia realised that
the big problem was that the bird couldn't see. Obviously the
probable reason was that the blow had been severe enough to detach
the retinas in which case there was no hope for it. Also very
worrying was the fact that the adult blackbirds, while continuing to
feed the other baby, were steadfastly ignoring the one that had been
damaged. I have seen this sort of thing before. It is as if the adult
knows that there is no point in wasting time and energy on a hopeless
case. It was all very depressing.
Anyway, we decided that the best thing
we could do was to make him (why did we decide it was a he?) as
comfortable as we could and then to keep a watching brief in case he
was attacked (crows and cats being the likely threats).
The hours dragged by and nothing
happened other than he started to walk. Not being able to see, he was
stumbling into things and ended up in a corner underneath a hose
reel. Not a good place. I decided to catch him again and put him
somewhere safer. He gave off the usual strident “help, I'm in
trouble” call of the immature blackbird – and I was immediately
challenged by the adult male flying straight at me and letting
forward the well known blackbird challenge call.
Even so, with the baby back on the
lawn, the adults continued to ignore him.
Then, quite suddenly and without
warning, he took off and flew up into a bush. Did that mean he could
now see again? It seemed so.
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| He (or she, as the case may be) reunited with his (her?) brother (or, quite possibly, sister) just outside the kitchen door. |
Finally, and to our delight, the adults
started to feed him again and he seems to be making good progress
although one wing still droops quite badly. Luckily there is no need
for these birds to fly very much or for very far.
It is nice to be able to report a
success story – nearly every injured bird that I have tried to save
has eventually died. Sometimes I have steeled myself and put one out
of its misery. Sometimes I have let nature take its course. In both
cases I end up feeling rather guilty – it is, indeed, a no-win
situation.
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| Meet Ben. Not a very good photograph I fear but you can't get them all right. |
