I’m glad it’s Friday. And not just because I don’t have to go to work in the morning. But that’s definitely a bonus.
Mainly, I’m glad it’s Friday because it’s nice to know I have finished another week at the mill, the old grindstone, that so often can feel like a slave’s job with a few perks thrown in. I get a lot of free books. That’s one perk. And a pretty good one. And I have a bit of respect when I get to go to writer’s conferences and share some of my inside knowledge. The conference organizers like to make the faculty feel good.
But for the most part, editing for a publishing house is tedium. You put in long hours and get little return on your investment, much like any job I suppose. But there’s a significant period of time in which you simply don’t see anything happening for all the effort and striving you’re putting in—and on some books, that can be the entire course from first draft to print. I’m not complaining, it’s just nice it’s Friday.
So tonight we put the kid to bed early and we’ve got a cheap bottle of California wine. We plan to have a nice pajama party, my wife and I, and thank God for the little things, like being able to say we’re making it happen—despite all the tedium and monotony.
It ain’t glamorous. But we’re working through the doldrums of the publishing life. I guess someday it could be cocktail parties on Friday nights. But not yet…