I hate proofreading.
I get it.The MS is done. I’m just making sure the language is right. I know it’s the difference between amateur and professional, but I hate it just the same.
Today, I gathered my tools:
The dictionary my parents bought me for high school, now bound with duct tape.
A dog-eared copy of Roget’s II Thesaurus.
Three-ring binder containing my rewrite notes and continuity file.
Magnifying glass (for the dictionary).
- Pens and scratch paper for capturing quick reminders and random thoughts.
The Google for fact-checking.
One unbound printed copy of the 540-page manuscript of The Mark of the Spider: A Black Orchid Chronicle. (Coming soon, not long after the proofing is finished.)
For five and a half hours, I toiled over trails of characters, searching for misspellings, dropped commas and all manner of English grammar traps.
For every printed page that contained multiple errors or corrections too complex for my crabbed left-handed writing, I printed a new, improved, better page. (Check for redundancy and choose the best one.)
And when my soul cried, “No more. I can take no more,” I had reviewed only 68 pages, leaving 472 more for tomorrow and tomorrow and tomorrow.