Proofreader spotlight: Amanda.

(To be specific, today we're spotlighting Amanda-the-physicist, not Amanda-who-isn't-a-physicist. Why doesn't real life work like fiction, where two people are only allowed to have the same name if one of them promises to die five pages later?)

Amanda was one of the first people ever to get their hands on Rosemary and Rue, in a much earlier form. She's also one of my longest-running proofreaders, having now been involved with every book in the series. Oh, and she's married to Michael, the man that Newsflesh was functionally inspired by. All of which makes her an awesome friend, but not necessarily an awesome proofreader.

Luckily for me, she is an awesome proofreader, and because she's known me -- and been reading for me -- for so long, she's capable of making statements that might be offensive coming from just about anybody else. Right now, she's proofreading Late Eclipses of the Sun (the fourth Toby book), and had this to say:

"Okay, hon. During the Shadowed Hills sequence, they are all still having a major attack of stupid."

Behold the honesty! Being a) an academic, b) a folklore geek, and c) a scientist, she then proceeded to support this argument with fully two pages of 'this is why all your characters are dumb right here.' Seriously, two pages, not of edits or continuity catches, but of detailed and nit-picky textual critique. I'm going to lose my entire weekend to rewrites solely based on this set of notes, and I am overjoyed.

Good writers are made by talent, practice, persistence, luck, and alcoholic muses with sick senses of humor.

Great writers are made by their editors.

Discussions with Amy.

Me: I'm sadly tempted to -- once I have an announced release date -- make a set of icons that read, y'know, 'X weeks to Rosemary and Rue,' with a per-week 'have you...?' question.

Amy: I think you totally should. You're going to be practically vibrating while you wait for it to come out. It's not nearly as crazy (though totally awesome, I'll happily admit) as the essays on writing you've been doing.

Me: The essays were borderline accidental!

Amy: *tries not to laugh* *EPIC FAIL*
Amy: I love you, honey.

Me: Whaaaaaaaaaaaaat?

Amy: Um. Let's just start with how you have to describe something that could well turn into your first nonfiction book as 'borderline accidental.' Emphasis on the 'borderline.'

Me: Are you implying that I did this to myself on purpose?

Amy: No! Absolutely not! Just that you're the sort of person who can do this by ACCIDENT.

Me: ...sadly, yes, I am.

Amy: Whoops, I slipped. Where'd those forty thousand words come from?