I woke up this morning in a really good mood. I’m reading page proof on a project I’ve been working on for a couple of years. Normally, I don’t read page proof. I look it over, skim everything and trust that the author or other folks have caught everything, but this is a special case, a beautiful, expensive picture-heavy history of the early Nashville record labels.
I’ve tried very hard to avoid reading anything from the manuscript since I read it in its final form a while back because the important thing about reading page proof is to try to see the very stuff your brain wants to gloss over in order to make sense of what it’s processing. The more familiar you are with a text, the more your brain will read what it thinks should be there, and not what is actually on the page.
So, it’s kind of long work. I’m the kind of girl who can get through a book in a day or two and I’ve been at this all week and still have sixty more pages to go. I’m optimistic that I can get it all done today, though, if I get my butt off the computer and go sit outside where there aren’t any distractions.
And, I woke up excited to get to it. Which is nice. It’s a big book and I don’t know how many people care about Bullet Records or Bill Beasley or Jordan Stokes or Christine Kitrell or how many people can be persuaded through marketing to give a damn.
But I’m looking forward to getting back into it. That makes me excited for the book. The folks who are interested in it are going to have a treat reading it. An enormous treat that will take them a long time to plow through, but a treat nonetheless.
Folks, I have no idea what the title of the post has to do with the body of the post. In my pre-Diet Dr Pepper mind, they had some connection, though so I’m leaving it.
It would be nice if the Butcher went to the store so I could spend the day reading, so maybe it does make some sense.