Author Field Notes: First Pass Pages (and Coyotes!)
I learned what first pass pages were last month when a giant stack of paper secured with rubber bands arrived at my apartment. The sheer heft of them made my book seem really impressive, like if I were to drop them from a three story window, everyone better get out of the way! Maybe instead of judging books by their covers, we should be judging them by how deadly they are from certain heights. If that were the case, then Donna Tartt's The Goldfinch would have to come with the disclaimer: Warning: At risk of injury, do not raise more than five feet above head.
In all reality, my book isn't that long (approx. 350 pages). It only seemed long because the pages weren't double-sided. Still, when I unwrapped that heavy package, it was a little intimidating. I'd read my book cover to cover dozens of times, but this was different. This was formatted like a legitimate book. It had my name on the header of every other page, a dedication at the beginning, and acknowledgements at the end. Like a phone book (yes, I'm old enough to remember what those are), it made a satisfying thumping sound when I sat it down on a table. It existed in the physical world now, not just in my laptop, and not just in my head.
First pass pages are basically an author's last chance at making changes before the book goes to print. My job was to go through it with a fine-toothed comb (much like I did with my copy edit), and make sure that every word was exactly as I wanted it. Unlike the copy edit, most of the embarrassing spelling and mechanical errors were taken care of, so I was able to focus more on story and word choice. Luckily, I didn't change much, which is good, because a major edit could seriously screw-up the typesetting. As much as I would have liked to insert some amateur doodles of wolves, I held back.
Speaking of wild dogs...one night, as I was walking back to my apartment to work on my pages, I heard yipping and howling coming from the wooded area across the street. At first, I thought they were dogs, but their yips were way too high pitched, and I doubt that wild packs of chihuahuas roam my neighborhood. After googling coyote sounds, I can pretty much confirm that that's what I heard. Now I feel bad for telling my fiance I didn't believe him when he said he'd heard coyotes a few months ago. Anyway, as I sat down to continue working on my pages, I imagined those howls belonged to wolves and that Weylyn was out there with them.
I haven't heard any coyotes since that night, but I'm sure I will again. Maybe they'll show back up when my bound copies arrive. I'll set one aside for them, just in case. :)
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