In two days’ time, I have to send the final proofs of the KOTRC to my publisher. Right now, I’m sitting at my hotel room desk in San Francisco with a stack of just over 300 pages of text, already cluttered with scribbles and annotations and those weird mark up squiggles that copy editors use. And these are supposed to be the final proofs.
At this point, I know from experience, it’s a huge pain in the arse for the publisher to have to make changes. But then again, even after countless rounds of proof-reading – by me, by trusted friends and by paid professionals – I’m still finding silly typos. “Drugs dealers” is the latest. Right there, bold as brass, on the first page. Fucking fuck.
But I’m getting there. My part in the production process is almost at an end and then, after that, the pro’s take over completely: printing and distributing and tracking the thing – plus all the other stuff they bring to party – while I turn my attention to the business of whoring.
More on the specifics of that whoring soon. But first I have to get back to these proofs. Not least because I’m supposed to be checking out of here in a couple of days, and I really don’t want to have to lug them with me.