When I read my writing, it’s like running my hand down a cloth that should be seamless. Usually my manuscripts are pretty clean, but I still manage to find things that bug me. When the copy edits come back, I go through the manuscript, answer any queries on the margins, stet or accept any word additions or subtractions (stet is the word you use to reject what the copy editor has done), and address any issues that my editor and I have come up with on the revisions. I’m very grateful to the copy editor we tend to use because she doesn’t try to beat me over the head with The Chicago Manual of Style (the reference bible for grammatical propriety). Personally, I think so-called “common language” is more interesting and apropos than “proper English” it’s passionate and powerful in ways that “wherefore art thou ass and thy elbow” just isn’t. I should probably confess that I don’t think I’m a joy to copyedit. She also puts in the typesetting notations-which are like a Morse code of dots and dashes made in red pencil.

After my editor reads the book through again and approves it for publication, the manuscript goes to a copy editor, who checks it for dropped words, grammatical issues, trademark spellings, continuity glitches between scenes, and time line stuff.

Usually my editor and I do only one revision cycle, not because I’m a miracle worker or a genius, but because I’m really critical about my own work and beat the hell out of the material before she gets to see it. When I’m finished with the revisions, it’s another trip to Kinko’s on a Thursday evening, pulling a Night of the Living Dead in sweats again.

Zsadist book