The Pud is in the Proofing

For the first time in months, I’m having a weekend without guilt. Before I wrote the headline for this posting, I checked Webster’s Collegiate to be sure there would be no double entendre there. It explained “pud” is short for “pudding” (in Great Britain, at least) so I’m off the hook. Even if it means the other thing you’re probably thinking about, that meaning also applies. In other words, I’m deep into this proof reading thing, and I’m having a pretty good time.

It’s official: the title of the book is Springfield Aviation. I respect the title. It was their call, and I’m okay with that. The process in which I will be happily re-engaged when this posting runs up the blogpole is fun. Why?

I’ve published reviews of probably 30 books in my career, and one of the things that seems to drive authors who have reponded to my reviews (not all do) CRAZEEE is my nit-picking, pointing out errors in nomenclature, punctuation, run-on sentences, the silly things editors usually weed out before the book hits the big presses. With my own book, being proofed by my own eyes, after my excellent editor has already contributed his expertise, I can nail those pesky critters that dodged his eyes. Seeing the proof with the type set and pages arranged as they will be in final product inspires me. What an opportunity! And you know something? I’ll miss a few too, probably inevitably, and a reviewer can pick away at the nits I missed but he or she catches. All’s fair in love and eating what you dish.

Proofing involves reading a two-page list of questions and simple directions and responding to them in red pen on the pages targeted. Some examples: Page 60, picture 088 — Is Mrs. Charles E. Becker’s last name known? and On page 58, picture 084:You say “F.A.F. Dallas.” What does F.A.F. stand for? Answers: No. (and) Fly Away at the Factory.

I’ve also had to rewrite a few captions to comply with suggestions. When I was writing them, I could not find a way to explain how I missed my only chance to fly from Southwest Airport because I was honest when the pilot asked me if I had my parents’ permission . . . without using first and second person personal pronouns. After the editor recommended I FIND a way . . . . I found a way. That’s what writers do. We find a way. And the book will be better for the astute recommendation and result.

Other captions were written a little too much from the hip with lingo I’d share with friends at The Barrel Head, lingo they’d understand, but phrases most of the public we hope will buy the book will not understand. Lingo that will confuse; not inform. Good suggestions all. Sometime you can be so into a subject you don’t know what your readers will grasp and what will be beyond their grasp. Early in the process of writing the book, I asked editor if I could include (in parenthesis) the civilian registration numbers and military serials of aircraft pictured. I said this would help historians and would not impede the reading. Editor agreed, suggesting I explain my plan in the intro so everyone would understand the idea. I did.

To my delight, only one of the 209 pictures was rejected, and that because the original image was too small, and enlarged, it was too fuzzy. Bob Frasco will never know how close he came to being in the book.

So I’m having fun. I don’t know when the book will hit the stands, but you can be sure, I won’t keep that news a secret from youse.

The pud is in the proofing, but that’s only the first dessert course in this multi-course serving. The cherry on the top of the ice cream will come in a few months.

Live long . . . . . . . . and proper.