A birds has a syrinx, not a larynx. (Just for fun, the plurals are syringes and larynges. Heh.) Good gods, I don’t believe that (a) I wrote that, and (b) three editors missed it.
In other news, apparently I am the Queen of All Commas. All your commas are mine, mine, I tell you! Because after seeing the amount I have liberally sprinkled throughout this book, there cannot possibly be any left for other people to use. I use them for subclauses, but also to mark pauses and establish a rhythm in a sentence. And, er, there are, well, many of them, some in places where I now disagree with their use. Sigh.
Almost done Chapter Four; almost halfway through the 240 pages.
ETA: Done! And I’m at 109 pages or thereabouts. Off to get the boy.
Another chapter of proofs done. I’m about to start Chapter Four.
For every five or six instances of smacking myself on the forehead, there is an instance of, “Wow. I wrote that? It sounds, well, smart. And moderately deep.”
There were lots of fun things that happened this weekend, like trips to the farm, maple sugar, the boy’s very first Easter egg hunt, playing with his cousin, dinner out in a grown-up restaurant featuring a decadent plate of ice cream with real whipped cream and gourmet chocolate sauce… but I think one of the most exciting things that happened this weekend (certainly for HRH and I) was the triumphant acquisition of Sparky’s very first tricycle.
He wasn’t as enthusiastic about riding it as he was about petting it and taking it for walks and showing it off to people.
There’s a second-hand shop in the next town that I always hit for new coats, pants, shirts, and whatever else may be lacking in the boy’s ever-being-outgrown wardrobe. This time we got a new light spring jacket (not that he needed one; he has a raincoat and a perfectly good light spring coat, but this one had Dash and Mr. Incredible on it. Come on! How could I pass that up?), lined splash pants, and the tricycle. The trike was fifteen dollars. We were very impressed with ourselves. (Do you have any idea how expensive new tricycles are? It’s ridiculous.) Now we don’t have to introduce emotional stress into our godsdaughter’s life by asking her if she would be willing to pass along her old tricycle.
When we went downstairs to the garage to do laundry yesterday, he found the trike and wrestled it from the storage side to the laundry side. He wanted to bring it upstairs with us, and was very upset when I informed him that tricycles are not played with indoors. If things keep melting the way they’re doing out there, and the weather warms up just a bit more, then we can try the riding to the corner thing. Although I’m willing to bet that he’ll ride for a few feet then walk it along the rest of the way there and back.
Seriously, why didn’t any of us catch some of these before the book was typeset?
Meer, meer, meer.
No, they’re not tragic or drastic or hold-the-presses kind of things, just phrases I would have arranged differently or words I would have substituted if I’d read the book laid out like this. Maybe when the next book comes back for copy-edits and so forth I’ll reformat the text so it looks Real and The Right Size, and maybe then I’ll catch more of these things.
Spent a couple of hours this morning setting up my freelance account and profile with the new company, and getting to know all the ins and outs of the web interface for assignments and such. I also downloaded a few instructions that were updated since or missing from my original info packet. Good to have on hand. I added them to my file of hard copy references.
Okay, back to the proofs.