One of the excruciating things about being an author -- especially a first-book author -- is to come across all the errors, typos, and just plain crudities in your first edition. One longs for a second edition of the book and the opportunity to correct its sometimes embarrassing imperfections.
In line with the above, what follows is my current list of corrections. If you happen to own a copy of my book (Leaving the Farm, Oolichan Books, 2007), please note them and forgive my mistrakes, for which I am entirely responsible.
Note of explanation: In the case of revised paragraphs, one has to be careful to keep the same length as the original so as not to upset the book's page sequence. Hence the added word counts.
REVISION (top of page 194):
Original
One day when we were out sliding there was another visitor at the Tysons’, a kid from Loretto named Rudy, who was one of those unfortunates among school children like the gamma member of a pack of wolves. He was the butt of jokes, and the Tysons especially teased him unmercifully. Having been teased and the butt of jokes myself, I felt sorry for Rudy. But then he seemed to ask for it by his craving for acceptance, his tail-between-his-legs hanging around alpha kids like the Tysons. It didn’t help matters that, besides wearing glasses, he had a whiney voice and was a bit of a sissy. [106 words]
Revision
It was a reckless ride, another of the Tysons’ initiations. One day a fresh initiate, a kid from Loretto named Rudy, joined us on the Tysons’ hill. In school, and especially with the Tysons, he was like the omega member of a pack of wolves. He was teased and the butt of jokes. Having been teased and the butt of jokes myself—having been, like him, a bottom dog—I could identify with Rudy. Why he hung around alpha kids like the Tysons, I suppose was because he wanted, as I did, their acceptance. It didn’t help matters that he wore glasses, seemed a bit of a sissy. [106 words]
MOST IMPORTANT CHANGE (if revision of entire paragraph impossible):
Page 194, first sentence: “. . . like the gamma member of a pack of wolves. . . . “ Change “gamma” to “omega.”
REVISION (bottom of page 64):
Original
L’Ange (spelled Lange by then) died in 1887, the same year my maternal grandfather was born. It was also the year that the Minneapolis, St. Paul and Sault Ste. Marie Railroad (the Soo Line) cut through the Hamel land below the settlement known then as Medina (the name of the township), constructed a depot, and named it Hamel. By that time hay was the family’s principal crop, and William Hamel and his sons were hauling it off the farm to sell to owners of horse-drawn vehicles in Minneapolis—to the streetcar company (until its cars were electrified), creameries and ice companies, and private owners of horses and buggies. [107 words]
Revision
L’Ange (spelled Lange by then) died in 1887, the same year my maternal grandfather was born. It was also the year that the Minneapolis, St. Paul and Sault Ste. Marie Railroad (the Soo Line) cut through the Hamel land below the settlement known then as Lenz (for Leonard Lenz, the postmaster), constructed a depot, and named it Hamel. By that time hay was the family’s principal crop, and William Hamel and his sons were hauling it off the farm to sell to owners of horse-drawn vehicles in Minneapolis—to the streetcar company (until its cars were electrified), creameries and ice companies, and private owners of horses and buggies. [107 words]
REVISION (bottom of page 80):
Original
Together they watched Bobby Jones play in the St. Paul Open. My father played golf too, of course, once taking the lead and drawing a crowd in a tournament at Alexandria, Minnesota. But then: I blew up under the pressure. [40 words]
Revision
Together they watched Bobby Jones win the 1930 U.S. Open at the Interlachen Country Club in Edina. My father played golf too, of course, once taking the lead in a tournament at Alexandria, Minnesota. But then: I blew up under the pressure. [42 words]
TYPOS
Page 65, last paragraph: change Hennepin “Country” to “County.”
Page 101, second paragraph, sentence beginning “The teacher was reading to us to one warm, sleepy afternoon . . . Delete second “to.”
Pages 179-180: missing numbers
Page 182, second to last paragraph: change “blwoing” to “blowing.”
CORRECTIONS
Page 55, second to last paragraph: change “only nineteen” to “twenty-two.”
Page 61, first paragraph: change “nine years later” to “six years later.”
Page 209, middle of last paragraph: change “on those long summer evenings” to “in . . .”
Saturday, September 6, 2008
Tuesday, September 2, 2008
Work and Play
More than half this year has passed since my last posting. My excuse is that I'm anything but prolific, have only so much time and energy to sit at my computer, and most damnably this poor scribbler has only so many words and ideas in his head. What I have I've been putting into the novel I've been working on since last winter in Mexico and, intermittently, this spring and summer in my home here in southeastern British Columbia.
I say intermittently because real life, including "real" work, has a way of intruding on my literary labors when I'm not happily in Mexico on my annual working vacation.
What's more, there's play, as well as work, involved in the real life I share with my beloved partner. Periodically, my wife "nags" me into getting off my butt and out into the surrounding mountains with her for said play.
April and I happen to belong to a hiking club, which every other week or so gets us, along with our fellow members (most of whom are, like us, retired, and therefore free to take off in the middle of a given week), into one of the West Kootenay's prime, and more or less easily accessible, wilderness areas. Recently we spent two days and nights up in nearby Kokanee Glacier Park, enjoying the amenities of the Alpine Club of Canada "hut," really a splendid lodge, on Kokanee Lake at its elevation of some 7,000 feet. And just a week ago we hiked into Monica Meadows, in the alpine north of Duncan Lake, which was the highlight of our high-country excursions this summer.
Above is a view of Monica Meadows. We'd like to hike up there once more before the snow flies.
Meanwhile, tonight is chilly enough that we've made a fire in our woodstove.
Summer is definitely over.
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