Peg Herring's Blog - Posts Tagged "mistakes"
How Dare You?
Heard on the news about a guy who was texting, crossed the centerline, and hit a truck head-on. He's dead. Okay. He did a dumb thing and died for it.
But what about the poor truck driver? Imagine what he's going through today, what he will live with from now on. Somebody died because he was on that road, that day.
Sure, he'll tell himself, and others will reiterate, that there was nothing he could have done. Big trucks don't manuever nimbly out of the way, don't stop on a dime. But he will always have those images: the moment of knowing a crash is inevitable, the impact, the realization that the other driver is dead.
Next time you're thinking of doing something stupid while you're driving, remind yourself that you might die. And if you won't think of your own life, think about the people who might live on, knowing they were part of it, even if they were doing everything right.
But what about the poor truck driver? Imagine what he's going through today, what he will live with from now on. Somebody died because he was on that road, that day.
Sure, he'll tell himself, and others will reiterate, that there was nothing he could have done. Big trucks don't manuever nimbly out of the way, don't stop on a dime. But he will always have those images: the moment of knowing a crash is inevitable, the impact, the realization that the other driver is dead.
Next time you're thinking of doing something stupid while you're driving, remind yourself that you might die. And if you won't think of your own life, think about the people who might live on, knowing they were part of it, even if they were doing everything right.
I'd Rather Be Right
One of the scary things about being published is that one might (probably will) get something wrong. There it is, for all the world to see, and it can't be fixed.
Something equally vexing to me is that people THINK you've got something wrong. One can't hunt them all down and argue the point, but--well, this one would like to.
It has been pointed out to me, twice now, that I used the word "dollar" in HER HIGHNESS' FIRST MURDER. Yeah, I did, in the idiom "squeeze the last dollar" out of something. It does sound anachronistic, and I probably would not have used it outside the idiom. Still, my unabridged Webster's Dictionary tells me that the word "dollar" was in use in the 1540s as a synonym for a five-shilling coin more often referred to as a crown.
The same two readers took issue with my reference to potatoes, arguing that they came to Europe later in history. Again, sources I find say that the Spanish brought the potato to Europe in 1536. I don't think it's unrealistic to say that ten years later, those useful little tubers might have made their way to a table or two in England.
I did get the rhododenrons wrong. A reader informed me that those flowers did not exist until the 1600s, and he is correct. Having visited England in summer, it seemed to me that they were elementals, existing since time immemorial, but then, I never had a botany class in my life.
I suppose I must accept that I can make mistakes, and that people will be critical, sometimes rightly, sometimes wrongly. I suppose for some there is an urge to tell the author how wrong she is. I once saw an author almost attacked on an elevator by a man who went far past the bounds of decency to show how clever he was in finding mistakes in the author's work.
My guess is that authors in such situations have two reactions. The first is a defensive thought. "We're novelists, not scientists. We try, but we never said our purpose was anything but a good story." Second might be what one would like to say to the self-appointed critic: "When you write your book, have it edited multiple times, and get it published, send me a copy. I'll see what I can find to point out to you."
Something equally vexing to me is that people THINK you've got something wrong. One can't hunt them all down and argue the point, but--well, this one would like to.
It has been pointed out to me, twice now, that I used the word "dollar" in HER HIGHNESS' FIRST MURDER. Yeah, I did, in the idiom "squeeze the last dollar" out of something. It does sound anachronistic, and I probably would not have used it outside the idiom. Still, my unabridged Webster's Dictionary tells me that the word "dollar" was in use in the 1540s as a synonym for a five-shilling coin more often referred to as a crown.
The same two readers took issue with my reference to potatoes, arguing that they came to Europe later in history. Again, sources I find say that the Spanish brought the potato to Europe in 1536. I don't think it's unrealistic to say that ten years later, those useful little tubers might have made their way to a table or two in England.
I did get the rhododenrons wrong. A reader informed me that those flowers did not exist until the 1600s, and he is correct. Having visited England in summer, it seemed to me that they were elementals, existing since time immemorial, but then, I never had a botany class in my life.
I suppose I must accept that I can make mistakes, and that people will be critical, sometimes rightly, sometimes wrongly. I suppose for some there is an urge to tell the author how wrong she is. I once saw an author almost attacked on an elevator by a man who went far past the bounds of decency to show how clever he was in finding mistakes in the author's work.
My guess is that authors in such situations have two reactions. The first is a defensive thought. "We're novelists, not scientists. We try, but we never said our purpose was anything but a good story." Second might be what one would like to say to the self-appointed critic: "When you write your book, have it edited multiple times, and get it published, send me a copy. I'll see what I can find to point out to you."
Don't Be in Such a Rush
I'm about to give up on an author I know is good, at least on the piece of her work that I'm currently reading. It's pretty obvious that this one was done in a rush, and it suffers. I'm about done suffering along with her.
Someone told me once that a writer's first book is a luxury. She has her whole life to write it, if need be. She doesn't have to send it off until she feels it is ready, and even then, it might take years for someone to notice it. During those years, she can tinker with it from time to time, possibly responding to snippets from agents or editors. (You don't get much, but sometimes a phrase is tossed out: "liked the main character, no strong hook".)
If a first book is successful, the race is on. Now the publisher wants to keep things going, and the writer is expected to produce book after book. Some (notably Diana Gabaldon) refuse to be rushed. Others (better not to name them) write to a formula, repeating what worked in Book 1. In the case of the book I'm reading, it's obvious that the writer did not get a chance to let the story sit for a while and then look it over carefully and make it better. Mistakes everywhere: picky little things like "women" for "woman", use of the same adjectives every time a certain location came up, and a generally unbelievable opening premise that had me thinking "Where in the world would a group of adults actually act like this?"
The other thing that can happen, I think, is that a writer falls in love with all the things people say about her and becomes pretentiously literary in succeeding works. I see places in this book where the author is trying way too hard to recreate those beautiful descriptions praised in Book 1. Back then they flowed naturally; now they sound forced, like "Here's a spot where I can show my talent with words."
Will I give this author another chance? Probably. But I wish she had taken a little more time to be herself with this book. That's what got her where she is today.
Someone told me once that a writer's first book is a luxury. She has her whole life to write it, if need be. She doesn't have to send it off until she feels it is ready, and even then, it might take years for someone to notice it. During those years, she can tinker with it from time to time, possibly responding to snippets from agents or editors. (You don't get much, but sometimes a phrase is tossed out: "liked the main character, no strong hook".)
If a first book is successful, the race is on. Now the publisher wants to keep things going, and the writer is expected to produce book after book. Some (notably Diana Gabaldon) refuse to be rushed. Others (better not to name them) write to a formula, repeating what worked in Book 1. In the case of the book I'm reading, it's obvious that the writer did not get a chance to let the story sit for a while and then look it over carefully and make it better. Mistakes everywhere: picky little things like "women" for "woman", use of the same adjectives every time a certain location came up, and a generally unbelievable opening premise that had me thinking "Where in the world would a group of adults actually act like this?"
The other thing that can happen, I think, is that a writer falls in love with all the things people say about her and becomes pretentiously literary in succeeding works. I see places in this book where the author is trying way too hard to recreate those beautiful descriptions praised in Book 1. Back then they flowed naturally; now they sound forced, like "Here's a spot where I can show my talent with words."
Will I give this author another chance? Probably. But I wish she had taken a little more time to be herself with this book. That's what got her where she is today.
My Life As Someone Else
I've never been particularly fond of Peggy. It makes me feel like I'm ten again (not that that was a bad time, but still). I go by Peg whenever possible, but for some reason, Peg often becomes Pat.
As a teacher, I worked with a woman who is physically similar to me: dark hair, glasses, tall and thin (well, I once was). Her name is Pat, and we understood when new staff members had trouble keeping us separate. I answered to Pat and she answered to Peg. It was fine.
As an author, however, it's important that the correct name gets inserted into the minds of potential customers. But for some reason, people quite often think/hear/say "Pat" instead of Peg. I've been listed in programs as Pat, introduced to audiences as Pat, and thanked for coming as Pat.
Maybe I should have stuck with Peggy...but would I then become "Patty"?
As a teacher, I worked with a woman who is physically similar to me: dark hair, glasses, tall and thin (well, I once was). Her name is Pat, and we understood when new staff members had trouble keeping us separate. I answered to Pat and she answered to Peg. It was fine.
As an author, however, it's important that the correct name gets inserted into the minds of potential customers. But for some reason, people quite often think/hear/say "Pat" instead of Peg. I've been listed in programs as Pat, introduced to audiences as Pat, and thanked for coming as Pat.
Maybe I should have stuck with Peggy...but would I then become "Patty"?
