Proof

I’ve done something that at least sounds moderately impressive this month. With malice aforethought, with eyes wide open and with a degree of trepidation, I’ve joined my first ever professional body and can now officially – and with a certain degree of self-mockery – display this badge:

sfep-badge-entry-level-member-retina

I’ve also paid to take a proofreading course, which means that my war against typos has been stepped up to new levels.

I’m doing this for a couple of reasons. One to teach myself the jargon: just as you can know the rules of grammar without knowing the terminology, proofreading can be done without training. But it has its own tics and mannerisms that it can only be of benefit to learn. This will, I hope, ultimately save me time both in my own editing and in communication with other professionals.

Technical languages like the rules of grammar (of which I am more or less entirely ignorant) are a shorthand and a pretension. You don’t need to understand dilithium crystals to make a spaceship fly, but understanding them may help you communicate with engineers.

I’m hoping that learning to proofread may help me be a better writer. If I know what the industry considers to be mistakes, if I can see what they’re looking for, the hope is that I can incorporate these ‘rules’ into my writing at an earlier stage. Or, if I’m going to break them, I can break them good and hard and with malice aforethought. And write ‘STET’* in the margin in huge letters and underline it several times.

The biggest reason for doing a proofreading course, however, is simple and obvious: I’d like to earn a little cash. Like the vast majority of writers I don’t earn money – not a penny – from my calling. I have a paid job that keeps me alive and sane, but 2017 will see me taking six months out. I need something to do. I have skills and I need to monetise them.

This sounds mercenary but it’s life, and life is sometimes cold and dark. I’ve not the temperament for teaching and writing copy for bingo sites will kill my creativity. What other options do I have? I’ve spent ten hard years on fiction writing. It’s what I know. I also need to live, and to help my family live. I also have some experience, what with all my work helping other writers with their works-in-progress.

It also keeps me locked into the world of words. Really it’s just a way of expanding what I already do: read manuscripts and give feedback. If I can pick up a few contacts through freelancing and getting my name in the world of publishing then all to the good.

My biggest worry is that I’m branching away from my true love – creative writing – and losing time from what I could be doing: writing, self-promoting and building my own career. This next year will be a crucial one for me. I am good at what I do – I have to believe that – but whether I can make a future for myself as an author remains to be seen.

Oh, and if you need any proofreading done please drop me a line. ‘Honest Rob’ is at your command; reasonable rates, satisfaction guaranteed etc etc.

 

*Apparently they don’t do this any more. I am sorely disappointed.

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The Problem with Blogs

In my very first post I said that the purpose of this blog was mainly for self-promotion. That’s fine, and true, but it also brings with it certain problems. Or one problem in particular. That problem is called perfection.

 

I was having a chat with some of my colleagues in Abingdon Writers’ Group in a local pub a few nights ago. We were discussing typos, and in particular the difficulty of hunting down typos in self-published work. Tim Arnot has just recently released his first book on FeedARead (http://www.feedaread.com/search/books.aspx?phrase=tim%20arnot) and was going through his proof copy at the time. He said – quite correctly – that the standards expected of a self-published author are actually much higher than that of a traditionally published work.

 

Everybody hates typos. Every author does, especially. And yet I’m willing to bet that you’ve found errors in almost every single book you’ve read. They creep in everywhere, and no matter how thoroughly you trawl your work, there’s almost inevitably a mistake or two that’s going to slip the net. In a traditionally produced book – where they have copy-editors and you can reasonably expect the novel to have been read by dozens of people before it hits the shelves – you might notice these errors, but you barely think of them at all.

 

In a self-published novel, however, these typos seem to be much more important. They become, without any real logic, a sign that the writer is a fool. That the book is hastily produced and thus not worth reading.

 

Why is this? Surely it should be the other way round? A self-published author doesn’t necessarily have the resources to pay a commercial service to proof-read his/her work, and even if they do there’s no guarantee that the manuscript will come back ready to print.

 

It’s especially hard to take when people such as Steve Bohme are saying that the vast majority of self-published books are ‘unutterable rubbish’ (http://www.guardian.co.uk/books/2013/jun/11/self-published-ebooks-20-per-cent-genre?INTCMP=SRCH) and that publishers are needed to act as gatekeepers against the tides of trash that are spreading across the digital waves.

 

The problem with that, of course, is that most writers see publishers and agents not as gatekeepers but as riot police.

 

But I digress.

 

The point is that I have to work very very hard to make this blog perfect. I’ve adopted a policy of writing it a few days before I publish, so I can make sure I’m saying what I actually mean, and that my prose is as clear and error-free as humanly possible. I’m trying to attract agents and publishers to this page, and should they find a single clumsy phrase, a stray Oxford comma (I think there may have been one of those in last week’s post), one measly typo, they will think that I can’t write and will blacklist me forever.

 

That’s the fear, at least. I’m sure that’s not actually really true, but that’s the ever-present fear. I work in words. If I fail to find the right one then I can’t be trusted to write a saleable novel.

 

And that’s a bit of a bugger.