A rant about publishers

Yes, that's what it is - no point in hiding. I want to SHOUT and YELL and find the IDIOTS who prevail despite their idiocy and SHOUT IN THEIR FACES. Or stick a sword through my head.

It's midnight, and I'm proof-reading. I wouldn't have to, if the publishers had got it right the first time, and the fact that they've F**KED IT UP before made me cross enough then. So, I came to some sort of peace with it, and awaited the second proofs. And there they landed, in my email inbox with a week's turnaround time requested... my poor inbox, just recovering from the abuse of the Great Festive Vacation (bah humbug) when nothing much gets done and the emails pile up, demanding rapid attention early in the new year.

At the time of receiving the second proofs, I was at quite a nice point - riding the crest of a wave of efficiency, getting things done (thank God), clearing my inbox (even better), getting enough sleep and being home for tea. And now, oh sweet Mother of Jesus. Last night, after getting back from dropping the Boys back home, I drank a whole cafetiere of coffee and managed to keep going till 3 am; and now I'm here, with plenty left to do, and it's all due in tomorrow.

My real beef is this: people thing a whole bunch of things about publishers, and published people, and people who publish, and it's all a PILE OF SHITE. It is widely presumed that if it's Published it must be Good, because people at every step of the way Know What They're Doing. Well, there' s enough tripe on all our bookshelves to put that one to bed. But the publishers... the people in control... the ones with reputations that we seek to benefit from... oh, now, they're Bad. Really Bad. I remember an Old School colleague of mine - retired, looks more or less dead but in fact isn't - raising his eyebrows in surprise when I told him who this book was with. "How did you manage that?" he asked. So, this particular house has a reputation. We all want a bit. Oh yes, if you can put it there...

And yet it's quite plain that there's not a sharp tool in the box. Between them, they must have a handful of brain cells. For the most part, they've incorporated the corrections I so painstakingly supplied from last time, after several very late nights... but more often than not, they've just done it really stupidly. Like a double-barrelled author's surname - they put it where it wasn't before, that was fine - but it now has an underscore instead of a hyphen. Frankly, I'd trust Homer Simpson with it more than this bunch of muppets.

So now I know this, what do I do with the information? What can I do with it? Can I make a dent in their solid, well-established reputation with my experience, if I tell enough people? Probably not. Like everyone still goes to Marks and Spencers for underwear, even though it's rubbish now, because it's always been understood as Good, the Place To Go For Pants. No-one will listen - the sand their reputation is becoming still looks like a rock from the outside.

So I guess it's back to the grindstone. Sigh. And perhaps I will keep to my vow this time not to do this particular kind of work again if it can at all be avoided. And perhaps I will just appreciate everyone else's efforts just a little bit more. Strange, though, how the body forgets pain...