Monthly Archives: May 2008

*headdesk*

Today, I got last week’s manuscript evaluation back, with comments and requests for a few tweaks.

The good? I am, apparently, awesome. And looking at the few edits and changes the co-ordinator did in the evaluation, I am more than on the right track; I am in the zone. They love me. Virtual high-fives, everyone! I am an evaluating goddess!

The bad? I need to rework an entire section because I pointed out weaknesses and didn’t suggest solutions. I need this like a hole in my head. (Actually, maybe a hole in my head would solve the perpetual headache I seem to have.) When am I going to do this? Worse, how? I didn’t suggest solutions because I couldn’t see any at the time. [ETA: Oh good; they need it back tomorrow sometime, so I don’t need to turn it around in the next two hours.]

The other bad? I spent so much time making sure that this, my first official MS evaluation, was okay that I ended up diluting the per-project fee down to about $5 an hour. This extra bit is going to further dilute that. I know, I know, I’ll get better; I certainly won’t stress about it and poke at it so much in the future, now that I know the way I handle it is all right.

I need to go take a lot of Tylenol and lie down for a bit. Then I’ll come back to it and give it a shot.

In other news, I think I have a workable new introduction for the previously-known-as-hearthcraft-book, but I am having a lot of trouble facing the rest of the book to find places to insert title-associated information. I’m so disillusioned about it. I can certainly compromise and meet people halfway on projects, and have in the past about certain things, but this is a really, really bitter thing to swallow.

Random Observation

In the station wagon, I used to have to put my cello’s scroll over the corner of the back seat to fit it in the back. In the new sedan, I can lie the thing flat on the floor. On a diagonal, of course. But it fits completely. You would think there’d be more room in a full-size station wagon, but no.

A 7/8 in the gig bag will be able to lie across the trunk from side to side, no angling necessary.

A hard case will have to go in on the diagonal again, but still: The cello fits in the trunk! This was something we were mildly concerned about, what with the diagonal and over-the-top-of-the-back-seat thing in the last car. I laughed a lot on Saturday morning when it slid in without needing half of the back seat flipped down.

So not only it is a smooth ride and awesomely easy to drive, it’s cello-friendly. I love this new car.

More 7/8 Adventure

Feel free to skip this; it’s another record of my impressions of a different 7/8 cello that I’m writing out for my own reference.

I am so glad I recorded this session; listening to it, I can hear things I didn’t hear while I was playing. I can also hear the comments HRH and I made about what was happening, which are also valuable. Also, the recorder captured this exchange:

LIAM: That’s Z Y X! Mama is playing Z Y X!

[MAMA plays the song]

LIAM: Mama, you did it!

MAMA: I did it.

LIAM: That’s my favourite song, Z Y X!

MAMA: Z Y X is your favourite song?

LIAM: It is! The song! Like in the movie!

MAMA: Do you want me to play it again?

LIAM: No.

Right away I could hear that the sound is fuller and richer than my current cello. However, it has the same hello-I-am-an-open-A-string thing that mine has, whereas the other 7/8 didn’t. Like the other one, the bridge is less arched so I was bumping strings, used to needing larger movements to cross between strings. My shifts were mostly a fraction off too, because the 7/8 is shorter. But wow, I can’t get over how much lighter a 7/8 is, and how much easier it is to move around. The 7/8 size just fits me so very much better.

This one had a less shiny varnish, and the colour was more of a red-brown. It’s a Scarlatti model 301 from the shop of Xuechang Sun in China (Beijing, I believe). The 301 is a co-operative workshop-made cello, not handmade by one person. It’s fully carved and has a lighter coat of varnish than I’m used to; it’s not as shiny as the other 7/8 or my own cello, and I can actually see the grain of the wood as sort of furrows on the surface instead of having them all filled in. The colour is a red-brown, very much like the colour of this cello.

It’s easy to play. Other than adjusting my shifts and spacing I didn’t have to fight to get a good sound out of it. The recording demonstrates that the lower strings project and are well-defined, as are the upper strings. The upper strings are crisp, almost too crisp for my taste. I didn’t ask what it was strung with, but I suspect Jargars and Larsens, a setup I’ve always disliked despite its popularity. (A quick check of string winding tables tells me that two were definitely Larsens but I’m mystified as to what the other two were.) I like my strings to be very smoothly balanced, and I’m not someone who pushes to have the sound from the top strings be punchy. I prefer it mellow across the board.

I looked at their hard cases, too. They had the Bobelock Deluxe case with wheels there, priced at $560. The salesgirl thinks the Slimline model without wheels would be about $500. And then, before I could bring it up, right away she said everything would depend on how a case would fit a 7/8 as well: would we be able to insert extra padding, how secure would it be, and so forth. (Bam makes case pads that you can insert in any hard case, but the question is how much padding would I need; for example, the hard case I have now would need way too much padding to be safe.) Wheels are very nice, but they usually add two to three pounds overall. I’d prefer something lighter. Of course, the lightest cases are way out of my price range; there’s no point in spending $1,500 on a case if the cello is about the same price. (Hmm, I just found a listing for a Bam light case that’s less expensive than even the Bobelock. That’s worth looking into.)

Overall, I’d be happy with this cello, but I think I prefer the other 7/8. I’ll need to play it again, of course, and it will be good to have a recording of each to hear to help me get a handle on the sound. On a shallow level I prefer the colour of the wood and varnish, but I feel that the sound was more even across all four strings in the first one as well. And the thousand-dollar cheaper price tag doesn’t hurt, either.

I’ll call the new luthier this week to make a reservation to take the Eastman 7/8 home for a trial the first week of June. My old luthier is just as easy-going about a home trial: sure, you can take it for a week, just leave us your contact info and your driver’s licence number. Call us when you have an idea of when you want to reserve it. If I can’t decide I might book both for a simultaneous trial, but I suspect that won’t be necessary. And if either sells before I can buy it, whichever one I choose, both shops can reorder another one for me. No pressure.

While on our way out, I pointed a 1/4 size cello out to Liam. “For me?” he said hopefully, his face glowing. I can always tell when he is honestly touched or overwhelmed by something because he gets quiet, and he delivered his words in that quiet sort of way. “Not yet,” I said. “If next year you still really want to play, then we’ll start looking into it.”

So there: our second 7/8 adventure. The next step is booking the first one for a week-long home trial.

It Never Rains…

My original luthier just e-mailed me to say they have a 7/8 in stock for me to try. I may go in today. This time, I’ll bring the MiniDisc to record it. It’s a thousand dollars more, which is more in line with what I was expecting to pay and was budgeting for. More expensive doesn’t mean better, of course; it’s the sound that’s important, and I’m very pleased to be able to hear another 7/8 and to have a broader field to choose from.

Updates as events warrant.

If we don’t go to try it today, we’ll be going to the license bureau to get the plate for the car transferred instead. Equally exciting, really.

Floored

This is by no means a done deal — in fact I have no idea if I’ll do it or not — but:

I’ve just been invited to replace Laurie Cabot as a guest speaker at this year’s Hamilton Pagan Pride festival.

I haven’t said yes. I said “Urk” and “OMG” and “I’m honoured” and “Let me know more about what you expect out of a guest speaker before I decide, please”.

I’m wondering how desperate they must be for a replacement if they’re asking me. Apparently Brendan Myers gave them my name, gods bless him. I don’t know whether to thank him or hit him with a book when I see him this July.

This isn’t the first time I’ve been invited to speak at a festival or conference. The year the boy was born I was invited to speak at the Spirits of the Earth festival (which didn’t happen because, well, premature baby and green witch deadline, and the logistics would have been nightmarish), and I was confirmed as a guest for the 2006 Gaia Gathering but had to cancel because of family stuff and finances.

So. Yes. That’s what new in Autumn-land.

I’ve bashed out a new intro to the hearthcraft book intro to reflect the new title, and now I have to walk away from it before going through the rest of the MS and inserting appropriate references to said new title. Maybe I’ll play the cello for a while. After I take something for this headache that has crept up out of nowhere, that is.

Welcome To My Nightmare

I just sent in the final piece of material supplementing the first MS evaluation I’ve completed for the new company I’m freelancing for, an e-mail meant for the editorial staff alone summarizing my experience with the manuscript.

In which I misspelled the author’s name.

And this after countless warnings and admonitions in the piles of manuals and documentation I waded through that impress upon reviewers the need to be as professional as possible and as correct as possible, because authors don’t like it when you criticize their writing and make mistakes in you own. Which is perfectly reasonable.

I misspelled the author’s name.

I saw it just as my finger left the send button and couldn’t catch the message in time. I immediately resent it with the correct spelling and a brief note that I’d sent a draft by accident. And it was a staff-only e-mail, not something that was going to the author, thank the gods. But still. What a horrendous way to begin my working relationship with them.

This does nothing for the squirrels in my stomach and skull that are scrabbling away, wondering if I pulled it off all right. I only received three negative pieces of criticism on my test evaluation, but still, you know me; my inner editor is having a field day. In fact, it’s the one whipping the squirrels into a bloodthirsty frenzy. Because a real author is going to get my thirty-one page evaluation, and have to read it and digest it and see someone’s real-live opinion of what s/he has written, and I know what working through an editorial memo of a tech read is like. The point of editing is to show the author how s/he could make things better.

I have to let it go. It’s done. I wouldn’t have been hired if they hadn’t thought I could do it professionally enough.

But AUGH!