How I Approach Cartooning #5: Arts & Letters

From time to time I thought about putting together a post on cartoon lettering, despite my utter lack of skill or expertise. (I have touched on the topic a couple of times, including my early flirtation with a digital font and my slightly more knowledgable use of the same later.) Then I found a page titled "Comics Grammar and Tradition" at the website of Blambot, purveyor of professional comics fonts, that says everything I would have said plus more, and better.

That page mentions one thing I always look for in lettering, and which in my mind separates the men from the boys (if you'll pardon the expression): the use and abuse of serifs on the capital "I." Serifs are the little horizontal bars at the top and bottom. In proper hand lettering, the "I" should only have serifs when used as a standalone initial or the personal pronoun. An ordinary "I" in the middle of a word shouldn't. It's a subtle matter of emphasis and spacing. Here's an illustration borrowed from Blambot:

It's tempting to say that misuse of the capital "I" is the hallmark of an amateur, except I see a lot of professionals doing it these days, too. Here's an example from Scott Adams' extremely successful "Dilbert," in which every "I" but the first should be sans serif:

Now, the serif "I" thing has always been more a guideline than a rule (to quote the great Capt. Sparrow), and you can look through old comics and see where even the masters had their own opinions on the matter. For example, Walt Kelly had the quirk of also serifing any "I" that happened to start a sentence. Some used serifs on words like "I'm," "I'd," "I've," etc., and others didn't.

Still, seeing a serif "I" in the middle of a word makes me sad--not because two tiny lines matter much in themselves, but because it represents what I see as the slow decline and degradation of comics art in general. It's a small standard of craftsmanship that at one time every pro paid deliberate attention to. Now few do, or see any reason they should. There are many aspects of modern cartooning for which I'd say the same. Very few cartoonists working today would be fit to clean the nibs of an ordinary journeyman professional working 50 years ago, including me. ("Nibs? What's a nib?")

Charles Schulz knew when to put serifs on an "I"

Lettering is an important and overlooked part of the art of comics. I consider my own lettering neat and adequate but not professional-grade, certainly not up to the standards of real practitioners in the field (go visit Todd Klein to get seriously schooled). Mine may have a certain handcrafted charm, and there's definitely something to be said for lettering that reflects the hand and personality of its maker. But as fewer and fewer people really understand or care how text works with pictures on a page, and any yahoo can buy or steal a nice-looking font and start typing away with the Caps Lock key on, it's a dying art.

I'm afraid no one will miss it when it's gone.

Passings

Recent days have seen the deaths of a couple of men whose work meant something to me, Ricardo Montalban and Patrick McGoohan.

All of Montalban's obits focus on his roles in Fantasy Island and Star Trek 2: The Wrath of Khan, the latter of which was just one of the reasons I was a fan. In fact, Mr. Montalban had a distinguished Hollywood career for decades before he made his big splashes as Mr. Roarke and Khan Noonian Singh. I wonder if he looked at Khan the way Alec Guinness regarded Obi Wan Kenobi: "I spent my whole life building a respected career in some really great films and I'm gonna be remembered for this?!" If so, he was gracious enough to never express it.

The best memorial to Mr. Montalban I've seen is a story writer Mark Evanier tells about working on a comedy program when Montalban made a cameo appearance. It's a great, revealing anecdote that hints at why he deserves to be remembered with esteem and respect beyond that earned by his performances. You should go read that.

Mr. McGoohan created and starred in a 1960s British series called The Prisoner, which is one of the best programs ever made. It tells the story of an unnamed spy who, at the start of the series, resigns from his job for reasons we never learn. He goes home to pack, knock-out gas pours through his keyhole, and he wakes up in a bizarre village run by people (maybe good guys, maybe bad guys) who want information from him. The series is a terrific meditation on freedom, individuality, conformity, and the little prisons people build for themselves every day. It's also strange and frustrating, both of which only add to its charm. Programs like Twin Peaks and Lost owe everything to The Prisoner. Truly great.

I have some sentimental attachment to The Prisoner because in the late '70s the 17-episode series was rerun on public broadcasting stations. That's when I discovered it and Mom and I got into it together. It was appointment television for just the two of us. We eagerly awaited each episode and dissected them for hours afterward, discussing the symbolism and teasing out clues. It built a special connection between Mom and me that I'll always treasure and for which I'm grateful to Mr. McGoohan.

Comics blogger Heidi MacDonald posted the best appreciation of McGoohan and his work I've seen in recent days. Worth the read if you're interested. If my description has tempted you, full episodes of The Prisoner are available online.

What's Up, Washington & Jefferson?
Over the past couple of days, I've gotten a noticeable boomlet of visitors from Washington & Jefferson College in Pennsylvania. Usually I see little clusters like that when a local book review or somesuch appears. This time I'm clueless. Who are you people and what do you want with me?

Words & Pictures Podcast

Yesterday my buddy Otis Frampton, creator of the Oddly Normal series, interviewed me for a podcast called "Words & Pictures" that he and inker Marc Deering do together. Otis is a good friend even though, as he noted in the interview, we’ve only actually met about four times. But the last time we met he bought me dinner, which means we’re friends for life whether he likes it or not. He interviewed me for about an hour and I felt like we were just getting started.

Otis is a very thoughtful writer and artist, by which I mean he actually analyzes how comics work and how he can make his own work better. I find that to be rarer than you’d expect. He believes, as I do, that creating comics or graphic novels is primarily an exercise in writing, even when the writing takes the form of images. Pretty pictures are nothing without characters, stories, meaning, and emotion behind them. A good comics creator has to be skilled in all the tools any writer uses plus the additional tool of thinking and communicating in pictures. Sometimes it’s a real brain-buster.

If you’re interested in hearing a couple of guys ramble about comics and, well, me for an hour, this may be the podcast for you. (It takes a while to download.) Otis had some good questions that made it an enjoyable conversation for me. I haven’t listened to the podcast myself yet—I hate the sound of my recorded voice and, after all, I heard the whole thing in my head the first time—but don’t recall saying anything stupid or regrettable. I’ve also enjoyed the previous podcasts featuring Otis and Marc, and hope there'll be many more "Words & Pictures" to come.

Thanks again, Otis.
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Me with Otis and his obviously supportive wife
Leigh at the 2007 San Diego Comic-Con.

Hi Allison!
I meant to mention this earlier: I found out via Christmas card that a good friend of mine from high school follows this blog. That’s very nice, although it also feels a little strange when people who know me in real life cross over into my Internet life. Once in a while my neighbor Larry will mention something and I’ll think, “How did he know about that? Oh yeah, I told everyone on the planet . . .” Worlds collide. Anyway, hi Allison, and my best to you and your family!

The Coming-Out Party

EDITED LATER TO ADD: Readers referred here via Tom Spurgeon's "Comics Reporter" blog (thanks, Tom) can find the entire Abrams spring catalog here. Scroll through to Page 70 to see the Abrams ComicArts material. The brochure to which I refer below doesn't appear to be available online. Thanks!


Abrams ComicArts, the new imprint of publisher Harry N. Abrams, just released a 48-page full-color brochure introducing its inaugural line-up of books coming out in the spring. Astonishingly enough, eight of those pages are dedicated to WHTTWOT:


No high-resolution scans for now: I'm not sure Editor Charlie would approve, plus I'd like to tease you a while longer. But this is really very cool. The brochure has already drawn some press attention, and I've received a couple of nice comments from pros I respect who've seen it. This is Abrams ComicArts' coming out party, and from my narrow perspective I think it's a hit. I'm also buoyed by this show of confidence. Eight pages is a lot of acreage to dedicate to one book!

I wanted to mention a bit of trivia--a backstage exclusive available only to readers of this blog, if you will. See those futuristic cityscapes taking up the bottom half of Page 4 and all of Page 7? They're the same drawing, which is deliberate; an attentive reader might look at the second one and think, "Where have I seen that before?" and flip back 10 pages to extract a bit of extra meaning from the story. It's all right if they don't, but it's a little reward for those who do. I drew it on November 21, 2006; I know that because
I blogged about it at the time, although I didn't mention what it was for and hadn't yet hinted that I was working on a new book.

I'm a naughty blogger.

I promise to let you know when I start work on my third book. Unless . . . heh heh heh . . . I've already told you . . . !*
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* I haven't.

Honey, We're Redecorating

Otis Frampton sent me a link to the little beauty below, which has me rethinking my home's entire interior design scheme:


Only $2199.99! Much less than you'd pay for any other piece of fine hand-crafted furniture!

(If you have to ask what it is, you're not a potential customer. The right people would sell a kidney for a chance to own a chair like that.)

The only problem I foresee is convincing my family to sit in a big circle around me while I bark out orders to them. I'm thinking that could only end in insubordination, if not outright mutiny.

Buzz

A couple of nice online mentions today, both courtesy of Editor Charlie talking about Abrams ComicArts' spring line-up.

First is The Beat, Heidi MacDonald's indispensible blog of comics news and opinion. Heidi (whom I enjoyed meeting briefly once) surveyed a variety of talents in the comics biz about upcoming projects, opinions of 2008, and projections for 2009. Scroll down halfway to read Charlie's ruminations, including a mention of WHTTWOT in which he says: "Brian Fies flexes all of his artistic muscles, creating a groundbreaking work that looks ahead while acknowledging our collective past."

Snappy prose like that is why he's the editor, the silver-tongued devil.

Second is the Comic Book Resources site, where Charlie talked to Shaun Manning in more detail about next season's Abrams ComicArts offerings. I can tell you, Charlie is genuinely excited about these books--kid-in-a-candy-store excited. His heart is in it. He also said more nice things about me:

Another title shipping in April, “Whatever Happened to the World of Tomorrow?” is a new original graphic novel by “Mom’s Cancer” writer/artist Brian Fies which “represents the best of what we are able to do at Abrams in terms of production, design, and editorial,” Kochman said. “We are also building authors--I didn’t want to just publish 'Mom’s Cancer,' I wanted to publish Brian Fies and build him as an author.”

That last point is one Charlie has expressed to me privately as well, and one I appreciate tremendously. There are no promises or guarantees. I don't assume anything, and if WHTTWOT does poorly or I simply can't come up with another commercially viable idea, my graphic novel body of work could end at two. But I admire Charlie's long-term philosophy that every career has ups and downs, triumphs and disappointments, but backing good people pays off in the long run. I'd very much like to prove him right.

My final (really final) files for WHTTWOT are due at Abrams by the end of the week. I'll be working late, flexing all my artistic muscles until they scream.

The Second-Best Advice I Ever Gave

In 2006, I took part in a panel discussion at the Alternative Press Expo in San Francisco. I forget the overall topic, but somebody asked our advice for up-and-coming comics creators. As I recall, the other panelists said things like: stay true to your vision, never give up, be creative finding outlets for your work, etc. Good stuff and true, but vague.

When my turn came, I decided to offer the most hard-headed, practical advice I could: understand the graphic requirements of whatever medium your art is destined for. Think ahead to any possible future uses for your art. Then work at the highest resolution and quality you can.

You are welcome to conclude that I learned this lesson the hard way.

Let's say you want to draw a webcomic. You know that the standard resolution for graphics on the Web is 72 dots per inch (dpi). So you figure, "all right, I'll do all my scanning and image processing at 72 dpi." Big mistake.

First, 72 dpi looks awful. Your black lines will be jagged and fuzzy (due to anti-aliasing), and the colors won't fill all the way to the lines, leaving gaps and halos. Second, if any non-Web opportunities come up, 72-dpi artwork isn't good enough. Better to scan and work at some higher resolution and create a good, clean master image. Then, just before posting it to the Web, reduce it to 72 dpi. But how good is good enough?

When I started Mom's Cancer, I thought 300 dpi sounded about right. Although it was a webcomic, I was also thinking ahead to print. I'd done a lot of work for newspapers, magazines, and marketing brochures, where 300 dpi is an adequate resolution for photos. So I went with that. Big mistake.

What I didn't realize, and learned painfully later, was the difference between printing a photographic image and line art. A photo is a continuum of tones and colors that blend and look fine at 300 dpi; a comic is pure black lines that, at 300 dpi, can look visibly rough and jagged, especially diagonals. While 300 dpi was more than fine for the Web, and might have been sufficient for low-quality publication on newsprint, it wasn't good enough for printing smooth lines on glossy paper in a book.

So as we prepared Mom's Cancer for press, I discovered my art needed to be at least 600 dpi. Big pain in the neck. Although Photoshop and similar programs allow you to easily increase resolution from 300 to 600 dpi, that process doesn't genuinely enhance detail. It's like looking at a fuzzy photo through a magnifying glass; you can't wring something out of nothing. To do it right, you really ought to rescan the original art at 600 dpi, which is tough if you've subsequently done a lot of digital editing to the 300 dpi scans. Which I had. So to get Mom's Cancer ready for press, I rescanned and re-edited some pages from scratch, while on others I reluctantly cheated and pushed the magic Photoshop button when I thought I could get away with it. As it was, even 600 dpi was barely acceptable. There are still spots in Mom's Cancer where the lines are pixelated and not as smooth or sharp as I'd like. Lesson learned.

Still later, my publisher Abrams wanted to make a banner for its exhibition booth that featured the drawing of my Mom's face from the cover of the book. My problem: the only version of that art I had was 600 dpi (which may have originally been 300 dpi); there was no way we could blow it up to two feet tall without revealing all the jagged pixels. Back to the drawing board to redo it at 1200 dpi, a resolution that would hold up to magnification.

You should also understand the potential uses of color in your work. For example, the default color mode for many (most? all?) scanners and digital art programs is RGB (red, green, blue). This looks great on a computer monitor, where images are composed of red, green, and blue photons of light, and is swell for a webcomic. However, it doesn't work for print. For that you need CMYK (cyan, magenta, yellow, black), the four colors of ink that printers use (ignoring for the moment custom varnishes, specialized Pantone colors, etc.). Again, Photoshop easily converts from RGB to CMYK, but the results can look very different. And bad. There are a lot of hues you can make with RGB light that you can't reproduce with CMYK inks. If you think your work might be printed someday, you might want to work with a CMYK palette (which does reproduce accurately on an RGB monitor) from the start.

So:

Say you're creating a webcomic. You figure you'll work at 150 dpi (you think you're pretty clever; that's twice the resolution you need!) in RGB because that looks best on monitors. Terrific.

Then, amazingly, people read and like your stuff. Maybe a newspaper wants to reprint it, maybe a book publisher wants to collect it. You run a few tests. Your 150 dpi line art looks like crap. Some bozo at the printer converts your RGB colors to CMYK and turns them all to mud.

Now you're remastering and recoloring. You don't want to remaster and recolor. It's an enormous, frustrating waste of time. You vow on the graves of your ancestors to never make this stupid mistake again (thus clearing the way to make entirely different, all-new mistakes in the future). Finally, after days or weeks of redoing work you already did once, everything is 600 dpi CMYK and prints up great.

Then somebody wants to make a banner or poster of your work. You try to blow up a three-inch, 600-dpi drawing into a three-foot print. It looks like crap. Now you're remastering again. Your dead ancestors laugh at you because you made the same stupid mistake again. Idiot.

Understand the graphic requirements of whatever medium your art is destined for. Think ahead to any possible future uses for your art. Then work at the highest resolution and quality you can.

My original art for WHTTWOT was drawn at many different sizes, sometimes dependent on the amount of detail on a page and other times on the paper I happened to have on hand. Regardless, when I put it all together in the computer, every page ended up 6 by 9 inches (roughly the size at which they'll be published) in CMYK color at 800 dpi. I actually work with them at 1200 dpi, which is about the maximum my creaky processor can handle without crashing, but reduce them to 800 dpi before turning them in to conserve file size (an 800 dpi file is less than half as large as a 1200 dpi of the same dimensions).

If we ever need to blow up a bit of art, I've got a 1200 dpi version on file. If we ever want to put it online, I can easily reduce to 72 dpi. Working at the highest resolution my computer can reasonably handle, I maximize the quality, potential uses, and markets for my work.
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New Year's Thanksgiving

Christmas sucks . . . when you come out of
the bathroom, and Hitler has stolen your seat.

See, the funny part isn't Hitler, it's the hapless shmoe standing behind . . . oh, never mind. I laughed.

We've got a New Year's Eve tradition around this here blog of expressing gratitude for people whose work, friendship, support, and love made the past year better--and then waking up in the middle of the night panicked and horrified for forgetting someone. While I always reserve the right to go back and edit posts, this one will probably need it more than most.

Top of the list is my immediate family--Karen, Laura, and Robin--and my larger family of sisters, dad, aunt, in-laws, cousins, and nephews. Because what kind of man would I be if I didn't list family first. Like I didn't last year.

Friends, acquaintances, and fellow travelers in the comics world, including Mike Lynch, Otis Frampton, Jeff Kinney, Patricia Storms, Paul Giambarba, Guy Gilchrist, Stephan Pastis, Raina Telgemeier, and many others (including Jerry Scott, Rick Kirkman, Al Jaffee, and Mark Evanier) whom I may have met only briefly but have been invariably kind and encouraging. Others whose blogs provide regular entertainment and education. Also, ToonTalk, rec.arts.comics.strips, and the Wisenheimers for their camaraderie and complaining.

Friends who did me the great favor of reviewing early drafts of my next book and making many good and insightful suggestions, including some people already mentioned plus Mike Peterson, Sherwood Harrington, Ronniecat and her Dear Husband, and Marion Deeds. It may go without saying, but I should say anyway, that I wouldn't have asked if I didn't respect their opinions. Even if I later ignored them. While I'm on the subject, my daughters' friends Kelly and Kristen joined them in helping me get Whatever Happened to the World of Tomorrow? done on time and better than I would have by myself. They're also sleeping in my family room right now.

Speaking of the new book, I owe it--and this whole sorta-semi-career I seem to have going--to my friend and editor Charlie Kochman, who's got a real Jedi-Socratic method of getting what he wants while making it seem like it was your idea. Neat trick. Many people at Abrams have been very hands-on and dedicated to making WHTTWOT a book we'll all be proud of, including executive managing editor Andrea Colvin and designer Neil Egan, with whom I've worked most directly, and many others with whom I'll be working in the coming months. And I must mention Charlie's fiancee Rachel, who hasn't had much to do with publishing my book but is terrific anyway.

A highlight for 2008: Introducing the Abrams ComicArts imprint and its slate of upcoming books at the San Diego Comic-Con in July. Left to right were panel moderator Calvin Reid from Publishers Weekly, Charlie Kochman, Denis Kitchen, Craig Yoe, Jordan Crane, Jaime Hernandez, and me.

People who read Mom's Cancer, told their families about it, and bought copies for friends. Professionally, hardly anything makes me happier than someone telling me they used to have my book but lost it when they loaned it to someone who needed it. While I hope my next book does well and I go on to write and draw many more, I don't expect anything I ever do to elicit such a profoundly heartfelt response.

Regular readers and, especially, commenters on this blog. Thanks for being there.

My "real life" friends who suggest lunch dates, invite me to parties, drop me e-mails, and otherwise make sure I have a life despite all evidence to the contrary.

Everyone I forgot. It's not you, it's me.

Here's something I found on Mark Evanier's blog and enjoyed. I don't know who "Uncle Jay" is, and his website isn't very forthcoming, but I liked this. Happy New Year.

Check the Facts, Ma'am

I hope everyone who celebrates Christmas had a good one yesterday, and everyone who doesn't enjoyed some time off anyway.

A couple of posts ago I mentioned that, in addition to reviews by Editor Charlie and a copy editor, Abrams had sent a draft of WHTTWOT to a professional fact checker. Thank goodness. I got the fact checker's notes a few days ago, and his or her fresh set of eyes caught mistakes everyone else had missed, including a couple of blunders that would've been very embarrassing if they'd made it to print. Nothing major, but the sort of typos and brain farts that might make a knowledgable reader think, "Hmph! If he couldn't even get that right, why should I believe the rest of it?"

My reaction to the notes passed through three discrete stages: 1. Embarrassment that I made the mistakes. 2. Relief that they were caught before it was too late. 3. Anxiety about all the embarrassing mistakes I may have made that haven't yet been caught. I expect to live in that state of anxious dread for the next half year or so. Anyway, thanks for saving my bacon, anonymous fact checker. I salute you.

A Long Way from Gutenberg
Editor Charlie told me about the video below, which shows how the next volume in my friend Jeff Kinney's Diary of a Wimpy Kid series was printed. I don't expect everyone to find it interesting, but I love this "process" stuff. The one piece of Mom's Cancer art I have on my wall is a poster-sized sheet of 16 pages of the book (with another 16 pages printed on the back) as it came off the press and before it was cut into pages. Modern printing technology is so precise and specialized, and the way these machines work and move fascinates me.

The third Wimpy Kid book drops on January 13. I understand there'll be embargos, security, and midnight releases the likes of which haven't been seen since the last Harry Potter book. When Editor Charlie and I talked just before Christmas, he bragged that he had the only available copy sitting on his desk. Honestly, I didn't really care, but I pretended I was envious just to make him feel better.

Anyway, if you're anything like me--who when I was a newspaper reporter a long time ago used to sneak away from my desk in the newsroom just to watch the presses roll--then you might enjoy the video. Ten minutes.

Bum Bum Bum! Hey, They's Too Many Bums in This Carol!

Above is this year's drawing for our family Christmas card, featuring--as it has for the past 20 years--my twin daughters and whatever non-humans allow us to live with them. Below is something I've stolen that's become a Christmas tradition around these parts. Sing along; you know the tune.

Deck us all with Boston Charlie,
Walla Walla, Wash., an' Kalamazoo!
Nora's freezin' on the trolley,
Swaller dollar cauliflower alley-garoo!
Don't we know archaic barrel,
Lullaby Lilla boy, Louisville Lou?
Trolley Molly don't love Harold,
Boola boola Pensacoola hullabaloo!

Bark us all bow-wows of folly,
Polly wolly cracker n' too-da-loo!
Hunky Dory's pop is lolly
gaggin' on the wagon,
Willy, folly go through!
Donkey Bonny brays a carol,
Antelope Cantaloup, 'lope with you!
Chollie's collie barks at Barrow,
Harum scarum five alarum bung-a-loo!

--Walt Kelly

Posted With Minimal Comment

Via Mark Evanier, inspiration guaranteed in 2 minutes 15 seconds.

Hey, Kirk Can't Drive a Stick Shift!

Via my friend Otis Frampton, for my friend Mike Lynch:

The audio is from the trailer of the new Star Trek movie (a.k.a., Starfleet 90210) coming out next May. The video . . . might look familiar if you're a Trekkie of a certain age.

I don't expect anyone else to give a hoot.

Edited to Add: Several hours after posting the above, I read that Star Trek creator Gene Roddenberry's widow, Majel Barrett Roddenberry, died today. While her husband was the creative engine of my favorite TV program, the roles she played--from the Enterprise's first officer Number One in the original pilot (Gene gave that job to Spock after the studio told him no one would ever believe a woman as second in command), to Nurse Christine Chapel, to Counselor Troi's mother Lwaxana in The Next Generation, to the computer voice in pretty much every Star Trek incarnation including the forthcoming movie--made her an important part of that universe as well.

Obviously my silly little post is completely unfit to serve as a memorial--except, maybe, in the fact that 43 years after Star Trek began, people like me are still thinking about it, talking about it, arguing about new versions of it, and even making affectionate fun of it. That's a good legacy to be a part of, I think.

Making a Book: Final Edits

One of the reasons I began blogging during the production of Mom's Cancer was to document the process of publishing a book for the very few people who might be interested. Continuing in that tradition, I thought I'd update where we're at on WHTTWOT.

My six regular readers may recall that I submitted a "final" draft a few months ago. There's a reason for those quotation marks. Since the art files are enormous, what I actually turned in was a lower-resolution PDF of the entire book, laid out as facing pages as they'll appear in print, with my notes to the editors and designers under each page. That was the first time anyone had seen the whole thing put together.

Editor Charlie printed out the PDF at his end, and he and a professional copy editor, Andrea, both went over the manuscript with a fine-tooth comb. Now, immodestly, I think I'm a good, clean, deliberate, professional writer. I know English and how to put words together. But Charlie and Andrea made me feel like an idiot, in a good way. They found stupid mistakes I know I shouldn't have made but didn't catch. They found mistakes I didn't know were mistakes. And, importantly, they very dispassionately pointed out bits that weren't clear, conflicted with other bits, or just weren't as good as they could be. Charlie also has a practiced eye for comic art and graphics, and had several comments on that as well.

I find a thorough editing very invigorating. Like a teeth cleaning or carpet steaming. No matter how diligently you brush or vacuum, you're still amazed at the crud that turns up when an expert goes at it.

(This perspective can be hard to achieve. There's a lot of ego involved in writing; that's you on the page, and it's tough to be criticized. I realized I'd cleared an important hurdle early in my writing career when I could sit with an editor and hack up my writing without getting hurt and defensive about it. Even then, the kind of journalistic writing I was doing at the time wasn't remotely as personal as my graphic novel work. That's tougher. I think the key is remembering that you and your editor are working toward the same goal: making it better. That doesn't help much if your editor is a moron who blights everything he or she touches. I've known a few of those. Respect and trust are the foundation of a good writer-editor relationship. Luckily, I think I'm in good hands.)

So now Charlie has returned the edited pages to me for corrections. To help me keep track of my progress, I summarized the notes for each page on a little spreadsheet:


Most of them involve minor mechanical stuff: inserting commas, aligning text, spacing out ellipses. Lots and lots of ellipses. Some are more serious narrative or thematic points that Charlie and I are discussing. There'll be a little rewriting and redrawing. A few notes I simply disagree with; of those, there will be some for which Charlie makes the call because it's an Abrams book, and some for which I make the call because it's my name on the cover. There's also a professional fact-checker reviewing my references and science content whose notes I haven't seen yet. Since my research was thorough and I've already had a pro astronomer look it over (thanks, Sherwood!), I don't expect much to come from that.

I've got a couple of weeks to do my part. Sometime very near the end of this year or the beginning of the next, I'll turn in my truly final draft. Then the designer, with whom I've been corresponding for several months now, goes to work. Then proofs and galleys and printing and shipping. Then, Mayish, a book.

After all my efforts and the scrutiny of a professional editor, copy editor, and fact-checker, I can't tell you how much I'm looking forward to the day I get the printed book in my hands, open it up, and behold a glaringly obvious error staring up at me from the first page I see. It's an unavoidable law of nature.