Well, friends. I have been clipping right along over the last few days at editing the grammar of the African author (not a native English speaker) who sent me the book and told me to enjoy it. (Of course, I cannot enjoy it without correcting its grammar, so he is graciously allowing me to make suggestions as I read along.) I am all the way through chapter 7 of it now and looking forward to being finished so it can be sent back to the printer for its revisions.
A couple of days ago, though, I needed to take a short break from editing to email Anne's dad about needing his signature on a couple of permission slips for school. I asked for the FAX number where I could send the form for his signature. He emailed back (from his i-phone, something I cannot afford and would not buy even if I could afford it because I have better uses for my money) around lunch time that I should scan it into my computer and send it to him as a PDF.
This frustrated me because I do not have a scanner, but we worked it all out. Later, it occurred to me that maybe the reason he would not accept the form via FAX at his work is that he might be having employment issues. Now I am worried. In addition, he did not answer when I asked if everything was alright. This concerns me... but it does not concern me quite as much as his sending PDF files of his signature to people he believes are out to injure him. That is craziness! I need to work on a way to approach him about it without opening myself up to being attacked.
Today, I did no editing. I played instead with some computer files. While I was amusing myself, guess who should show up at the front door? The Fed Ex guy! Guess what he had? A box with the print proofs of my newest story, The Rumor's Secret! I ripped it open and took my new treasure upstairs to ogle it for a while.
(I also emailed singer/songwriter Darryl Markette for his address so that I could send him a copy of the story I wrote for/with him in it. Guess what I now have? Yep. The home address of a musical celebrity! -- It looks like he also trusts me to be harmless... Maybe it is a redhead thing?)
Skip ahead in time just a little bit.....
Anne got home from school a little before 5 pm. She came into my temporary bedroom to visit with the dog, who was lying on the bed. As she sat down next to him, she spied my box of mini-books. (Oh, and let me tell you these are THIN. This story is definitely for electronic delivery. I just needed a proof printed to make it easier to edit.)
She commented on the books. I told her, "You can go ahead and read this one. There is nothing really in it." (Anne is prohibited from reading anything I write that might work to slight her opinion of her dad.)
She snatched up one and began to read before I could even finish saying, "You can have one if you want it."
I have to admit, a smile touched my lips at the speed with which her eyes soaked in the words. It took no time for her to comment, "You missed a comma."
I do not even need to wonder: Whose daughter is this that she cannot enjoy a story without correcting its grammar?
A couple of days ago, though, I needed to take a short break from editing to email Anne's dad about needing his signature on a couple of permission slips for school. I asked for the FAX number where I could send the form for his signature. He emailed back (from his i-phone, something I cannot afford and would not buy even if I could afford it because I have better uses for my money) around lunch time that I should scan it into my computer and send it to him as a PDF.
This frustrated me because I do not have a scanner, but we worked it all out. Later, it occurred to me that maybe the reason he would not accept the form via FAX at his work is that he might be having employment issues. Now I am worried. In addition, he did not answer when I asked if everything was alright. This concerns me... but it does not concern me quite as much as his sending PDF files of his signature to people he believes are out to injure him. That is craziness! I need to work on a way to approach him about it without opening myself up to being attacked.
(I also emailed singer/songwriter Darryl Markette for his address so that I could send him a copy of the story I wrote for/with him in it. Guess what I now have? Yep. The home address of a musical celebrity! -- It looks like he also trusts me to be harmless... Maybe it is a redhead thing?)
Skip ahead in time just a little bit.....
Anne got home from school a little before 5 pm. She came into my temporary bedroom to visit with the dog, who was lying on the bed. As she sat down next to him, she spied my box of mini-books. (Oh, and let me tell you these are THIN. This story is definitely for electronic delivery. I just needed a proof printed to make it easier to edit.)
She commented on the books. I told her, "You can go ahead and read this one. There is nothing really in it." (Anne is prohibited from reading anything I write that might work to slight her opinion of her dad.)
She snatched up one and began to read before I could even finish saying, "You can have one if you want it."
I have to admit, a smile touched my lips at the speed with which her eyes soaked in the words. It took no time for her to comment, "You missed a comma."
I do not even need to wonder: Whose daughter is this that she cannot enjoy a story without correcting its grammar?
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