Thursday, July 24, 2014
What We're Writing Week: Christmas in July @LucyBurdette
LUCY BURDETTE: What do you think of the Christmas in July trend? To be honest, I've always considered it a hokey idea. Shouldn't a normal person get on with enjoying summer and not try to trump up interest in a holiday that's still six months away?
But, for two reasons, Christmas really has arrived in July this year. Last week I had the gift of rereading DEATH WITH ALL THE TRIMMINGS, the fifth Key West food critic mystery coming December 2. And the gift of copy edits. Wanna hear good news or bad first? Bad, of course…
For those of you who don't know, copy edits are--I should put this politely, because it's a public blog and who knows who might be reading--necessary but maddening. These are not the editing notes from my editor, who is smart and laser-eyed and chock full of good ideas for making a story better. This stage consists of nit-picking.
Don't get me wrong--I'm happy when they find things like misspellings, and missed capitalization, and incorrect geography--mistakes that I would much rather hear about before the book is published. For example, someone noticed that I'd written AZURIASTAN as the name of a country whose flag is flown on the grounds of the Truman Little White House in Key West. There is no such country! The flag in question is from AZERBAIJAN. Where did I even find that made up name? Whew, embarrassment averted. Better still, I managed to turn that error into a blooper made by Hayley's ex--pure fun.
And I learn things during the copyediting stage, too, like "brunet" is the correct spelling for a man with brown hair, "brunette" for a woman. And Bloody Mary has both words capitalized.
But there are also hundreds of changes in things like dashes, and commas, and hyphens. Which sometimes seem utterly random. And the enemy of individual writing style.
And also queries such as: AU: Repetition OK? (Of course it's not okay, unless I intended it, as in some kind of artistic writing rhythm, which doesn't happen all that often.)
Even the recipes at the back of the book are not immune from the copy editor's eagle eye… AU: Shouldn't it read fold rather than stir since it's easy to over-beat whipped cream?
My job is to remember that though it may feel like I'm being tormented, the copyeditor's job is to make the book better.
And that brings me to the second gift--that of rereading DEATH WITH ALL THE TRIMMINGS after resting from it for several months.
This stage is so much more pleasant than the one Hallie described on Tuesday--that awkward beginning, when you have no words on the page and can't imagine where you'll find them.
So Bloody Marys all around--Merry Christmas dear Reds!
Chapter One: DEATH WITH ALL THE TRIMMINGS
My cell phone bleated from the deck outside, where I’d left it to avoid procrastinating via text messages, Facebook updates, or simply lounging in the glorious December sunshine with our resident cats, watching the world go by. The biggest interview of my career as a food critic was scheduled for this afternoon and I wanted—no, needed—to be ready.
Miss Gloria, my senior citizen houseboat mate, hollered from her rocking chair overlooking the water. “It’s your mother. Shall I answer?”
“Mind telling her I’ll call back in an hour?”
Miss Gloria would relish the opportunity to chat with her anyway, and maybe her intercession would slash my time on the phone with Mom in half when I returned the call. I am crazy about my mother, honest. But it had still been a shock when she announced she’d rented a place in Key West for the winter season. Wouldn’t it be so much fun to spend Christmas in paradise together? And New Year’s . . . and Martin Luther King Day . . . and Valentine’s Day? You get the picture. Mom had followed Diana Nyad’s attempts to swim from Cuba to Key West with rapt attention. When Diana overcame sharks, jellyfish, rough water, and advancing age to complete her 110-mile swim on her fifth try, at age sixty-four, Mom took it personally.
“Diana says we should never give up,” she announced on the phone a couple of months ago. “Why not ‘be bold, be fiercely bold and go out and chase your dreams’?”
My mother had been a little down since the summer because her fledgling catering company had not taken off the way she’d hoped. Although she’s an amazing and inventive cook, the business part of owning a business eluded her. For her first five catering events, cooking with only the highest-quality ingredients, she’d lost money rather than making it. A lot of money. Even her newish boyfriend, Sam, who was supportive beyond any reasonable expectation and categorically opposed to meddling, had suggested she take a few steps back and reconsider her plan.
“Why not? You should go for your dream, too,” I remember saying. “That’s exactly what you told me when I lost my bearings: Keep putting yourself out in the universe, and eventually the wind will fill your sails.” I stopped myself from trotting out more metaphysical tropes. I hadn’t wanted to hear too much advice when I was feeling down; Mom probably didn’t want mine, either. “What do you have in mind?”
“I’m thinking of coming to Key West for the winter!”
Whoa. If that was her dream, who was I to stop her? But my big solo adventure on this island was about to turn into How I Met Your Mother.