Today I spent virtually the entire day in the middle of the Editing Process.
As some of you are aware, I am the Publications Manager and Webmaster at the
Laurier Centre for Military Strategic and Disarmament Studies. As publications manager, a manuscript in a word document and illustrations often come to me and from there it is my responsibility to make it into something visually appealing and take it through the final proofing stages. This involves a series of edits by a number of keen academic eyes.
This particular Manuscript -
The Canadian Battlefields in Italy: The Gothic Line and the Battle of the Rivers - is exceptionally well written. The author,
Eric McGeer, holds a PhD from the Université de Montréal, speaks and reads five languages including Latin, and is able to construct English prose like few others. Even with such an accomplished writer, it never ceases to amaze me that invariably there remains a myriad of tiny corrections and inconsistencies we continue to catch on every edit. Every new eye manages to point out some tiny inconsistency and the process is akin to what Eric comically referred to as Death by a Thousand cuts. It certainly feels that way at times.
At the sight of the final printed product, Authors, Designers, and Editors often feel a great sense of trepidation. We look at the front and back cover for any major gaffes, filter through the inside for any major problems. Some compare it to birthing a child. I think a more apt comparison, though I have no personal experience to draw on for this, is watching your child blossom into an adult. You no longer have control over their actions (no longer able to make changes to the book) and they are subject the judging eyes of the critical world (the eccentrically critical world of academia). Only when we're relatively sure that we've done a good job as a parent (when we, ourselves, can find no major flaws in the text) do we feel a sense of relief and then perhaps a bit of pride. Many around shower us with pride but just one negative review can sting. Like a proud parent, your instinct is to defend and fight back but most times the hollow pages of some obscure west coast journal does not allow a forum for such a rebuttal and it would just be petty in any event. So you stir a bit, try to focus on the positive and move on. The really uplifting moments though for Eric and I so far with these Second World War Guidebooks, come from veterans of the Italian Campaign and their sincere gratitude. It certainly makes it all worthwhile, like I might imagine an elderly member of society commending you on what a fine parenting job you've done!
We're not there yet with this book. One more round of editing at the Centre before we send it off and wait for a final proofing print in the form of a mock book from the printer. Once I sign off, we wait for the final product. I have full confidence our final guidebook in the trilogy will be as well received as the last.
Terry Copp has suggested that this is the best of the three he has read. The incredible war art, the never-before seen period photos, the modern day stills, the Google Earth satellite imagery, and Eric's poetic pen make this one to be proud of. Let's just hope the ISBN number is correct on the back...
