Of course this could only happen to me. I go on vacation with my husband and just a few days in my publisher sends an email saying I have three days to check over the final copy of my novel (The Paris Notebook) before it goes into production. I have a 3G phone so it works in my dad’s internet-less condo. I write back asking for more time and she says don’t worry, if my final galleys were good, its probably fine.
I still worry. It’s in my nature. And the tiny corrections I made on the final galley are on a sheet of paper in my desk drawer back in Michigan and I have no way to check them.
We got in late last night and first thing this morning I opened the document, checked it over and all was well. I could have gone to the public library in Florida. I could have read the book on my phone. But I wisely took the publishers advice and chose not to worry. Or at least to put it off until today. And now all is well in my world.
Also, I was kidding myself if I thought I’d get any writing done on vacation. I did read through my snynopsis and revised it a little bit. But that was all. I decided to take a REAL vacation. A vacation from cleaning, cooking, laundry AND writing.
The younger, more neurotic me would have rushed to the library and re-read every word of an already revised book. Or at least she would have typed up the still handwritten synopsis and cover letter. I did none of these things. And it was wonderful.
