Page proofs and covers

Last night Penguin books held a little social gathering (as they seem to frequently do) for people who either write about books or select the books that go into shops. It wasn't until I found the private club where the party was being held that I remembered that I haven't really left the house since December and have therefor completely forgotten how to act at these things. And I'm starting to suspect that final edits isn't a good stage during which to go out and be charming about books, because it seems that a project is only truly done when I've completely given up on it. The whole reason I get invited along is to be charming about books in the general direction of the people who can influence how many people read them; the reason I say yes is that it's a rare chance to meet writers who aren't products of Norwich. This time I was especially lucky in that I got to gush to Carys Bray over how much I loved A Song for Issy Bradley and The Museum of You, and got to meet Jenni Fagan well in advance of doing Edinburgh Festival with her later this year.

Jason also happened to be there, and in what felt both old-fasioned but appropriate to the fact that we were drinking wine in a private members' club in Soho, he gave me this:

Page Proofs! It should surprise no one that I have pens reserved specifically for the job of marking these up.

This should be the last batch of corrections, which makes me a little anxious because the revision process has been too quick this time for me to second-guess myself on anything. But I've three times regretted writing the book at all, which means that it's very close to being finished.

Over the course of the night it came out that I'm practically the only person who hasn't gotten to see the cover yet, because they haven't made up their minds and they don't want me to fall in love with a cover that gets binned. But it's only a week until the bound proof comes out, so Jason was easily convinced to hand them over:


 

Most of them are out of the running, but I like seeing all of the iterations. They look nothing like what I imagined they would, but they all fit the book very well.

Now all I have to do is learn to pronounce the title clearly enough so that people know what on earth I'm saying.

Revision and paperback

I've been eaten by revisions. Which is preferable to being eaten by my thesis; at least my editor gives positive feedback. Last Monday I sat down and rewrote the first thirty pages. On Tuesday I realised that the rewrite was crap and re-rewrote the first thirty pages. On Wednesday I woke up with the conviction that the version from a year ago was actually much better than I first thought and used it to rewrite the re-rewrite. This weekend Dave went down to Brighton and I stayed home and did my night-owl thing and managed to hit the halfway point.

Behold: the editorial notes. Though about two pages of that is notes to self. 

 People have said that the reason it's called 'revision' is that it's a process of re-seeing, more than rewriting. You have to see what's on the page with clear eyes before you can know what it needs to make it better. In my case it's more a process of re-digesting; now that I've gotten to the midpoint the little voice in my head keeps chiming in with comments like 'you know, what you really need to do to chapter 2 is...' And then I have to go back to chapter 2, which does usually make chapter 2 better but makes the whole longer, which is a problem in its own right because the whole needs to lose about twenty thousand words of deadweight before it can be called finished.

About the point last week where I was despairing of ever getting to page 31, I got a surprise through the mail slot:

It has spot gloss

And creepy people

I've got a weakness for book-related art. It's not so common to find people's impression of a book transmuted into another form, and seeing how someone else would present my work visually makes me as excited as the existence of the physical book does. Which is a level of excited that is pretty difficult to touch; I've got a weakness for paperbacks.

The innards have been dressed up, too!

Paperback cover: and now for something completely different!

The paperback edition of The Shore comes out in March, and the cover wizards have decreed that it shall have art all of its own. And what does that art look like, you ask?

Of the people in silhouette, I guarantee that at least one of them is planning to murder you.

So now The Shore has not one, but three covers, none of which involve glitter, a martini glass, lipstick, high heels, or any of the other elements that seem to be code for 'book by a woman for woman: do not take seriously,' which was all I hoped for back when it had no covers. And for someone that's had absolutely no hand in the process, I'm disproportionately proud of how this one looks. Hardbacks are beautiful and durable, but I really prefer the tactile experience of reading in paperback. That, and they tend to weigh a lot less, which is a significant consideration if you spend a lot of time shuffling between points A and B on mass transportation.

That and hardcovers never caused a moral panic simply because of their binding.