Thunder Weekend.

The end is in sight for Seal up the Thunder. The burning caps-in-titles questions are resolved. I've finished editing all of the poems. The rough shape of the book is in place, the missing length found.

So now it's time to get out a three-ring binder and put the poems together, using paperclips to fake two-sided printing, and paying attention to finicky things like where you have to turn a page mid-stanza, how poems on the recto and verso pages talk to each other, which side of the folio the section pages lie on (it has to be verso), and the like. Most importantly, of course, making sure that the final page count is divisible by eight. I'm sure this is the sort of thing only poets do -- and only poets with small publishers do, at that. In fact, possibly it's just me. But length turned out to be the most important consideration in this last stage of editing, so it seemed best to grapple with the layout directly.

I spent all weekend doing this, and I'm happy. This is by far my favourite part of end-game editing. It's a jigsaw sort of process, emotionally: that is, it can be frustrating, and it can be satisfying, but it doesn't lead to protracted second-guessing on the goodness of the work and the existence of the talent. Also, it's the only part of the end-game editing that doesn't make me feel like clutching my manuscript to my chest and shouting "No! You can't take my baby!" (Again, possibly this is just me.) Instead, I have a warm "well, looky here, I dun made a book!" happy feeling.

Anyway, the binder is done. I have to input some changes into the electronic file, proofread it, and send it off to my editor. If she's happy (I think she will be) it goes from there to the typesetter, probably in the middle of next week. A proof of the galleys, and then a little wait, and then it's party at my place. Everyone is invited.

Various launch details coming soon!