This morning the Fed-X man arrived with my proof pages for the next Piper Reed. I opened the door and placed the package on the buffet in the foyer. They can wait, I thought. I was ready to get back to rewriting my historical novel. I planned to rewrite pages 111-125 today. My printer had other plans. It warmed up, loaded the pages as if it was going to print, then simply refused to spit out the pages.
I tried everything any follow-the-directions resistant person would do. I turned the printer off, waited twenty seconds, then turned it back on. The same song and dance routine occurred again. This time I took drastic measures--I turned the computer off, waited an entire minute, and turned it back on. Nothing had changed.
Defeated, I marched to the foyer, picked up the package, and left to have lunch with my husband. After eating, I drove to a favorite coffee shop and began to read. Marianne's familiar green marks traveled across every page along with my editor's pencil marks. Marianne has proofread my work for a long time now and I have the greatest respect for her. I admit it. I need her. And she knows it. I can just picture her hunched over my manuscript shaking her head, a "tsk, tsk," slipping from her mouth as she marks my missed commas and misplaced modifiers.
Her fact-checking amazes me. For example, in my manuscript Piper's older sister, Tori, idolizes a movie star that I invented and named Josie Johnson. At least I thought I'd invented her. Then I read Marianne's post note on page 33---"J. Johnson died in 1987/Very sparse online info." Her comment made me smile and blush. This time I'll consult Google before I replace the name.
An added note: Later I followed the troubleshooting directions for my printer and guess what? I fixed it! Now if only I could learn where the heck to put a comma.
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