BRAINPAN LEAKAGE

Or, When The Hair Gets In Your Eyes…

I had myself one of those deja vu flashback sort of things happen the other day… But, we’ll get to that in a minute. Right now I have to take you on a nostalgic tour of my brain in order to confuse, befuddle, bewilder, and otherwise create massive amounts of obfuscation, all in order to make the punch line even funnier… I hope.

So… Buckle up. Here we go…

Some of you may or may not know that I write my blogs in advance. Sort of a “whenever the mood strikes” type of thing. And, in addition to that if I happen to come up with an idea, but don’t have time to actually write the entry in its entirety, I will make notes. These notes will then end up as “draft” copies of blog entries, complete with titles and a few notes in the body to remind me what it is I wanted to write about in the first place.

Suffice it to say, you are going to discover that the aforementioned deja vu flashback actually occurred better than a year ago.

Now, let’s go over here and see what’s happening in my right brain…

Martha Ackmann is an author, journalist, editor and speaker.  I know this because it says so right there on her bio. If you don’t trust me, follow the link and have a look for yourself… I’ll wait right here for you. I promise. No, really. I promise…

Done? Good. See there, I was telling the truth, wasn’t I? Uh-huh…

Okay, let’s move on…

For me personally, Martha Ackmann is much more than what it says in her bio, because to put it very simply she was also a mentor of sorts. You see, way back in the stone age – that being when I was in high school – Martha, or “Ma” as we liked to call her, was my Journalism teacher. While I was only blessed with a few semesters of her tutelage, she literally taught me more about Journalism and writing in that short time than I ever gleaned from any other classes, high school and college combined. Seriously. I’m not trying to blow smoke up anyone’s anything. She is literally that spectacular.

To give you an illustration of what a tremendous teacher she is, in addition to instructing a bunch of whacked out, pimple faced teenagers in the finer points of writing and Journalism, shepherding us into and through competitions such as those held by the MIPA (Missouri Interscholastic Press Association), and chaperoning us at the JEA (Journalism Education Association) convention, “Ma” was also responsible for the creation of our high school radio station, KRSH (now KRHS)… Oh, and by the way – those competitions? We always came home with awards. While I like to think we all had a little bit of talent, the real credit goes to “Ma”, because she was responsible for teaching us how to use it. (By the way – don’t hurt yourself looking for me in the above picture. I was the guy behind the camera. I did, however, bring home an award from that MIPA conference. Martha, however, is the one with the grin on her face – second from the left against the back wall. Rumor has it she was kind of proud of us that day because – and I quote from the newspaper clipping – “Ritenour students won more broadcasting awards than any other students in the state.”)

Now, since she created our little 10 watt FM station, and acted as our staff adviser, those of us who put in time there were treated to even more learning opportunities. While we did in fact have an AP newswire teletype terminal in the station, “Ma” would never allow “rip and read” – that being the process of “ripping” the pages off the teletype and “reading” them verbatim on the air. No, we were expected to pick out the pertinent points of the story from the newswire copy, then write our own original lead and nut-graph. In short, she taught us to be reporters, not talking heads. We would sometimes grumble about it at the time – after all, who were we, a bunch of high school kids, to be re-writing copy that had already been produced by professionals? But looking back on those days, it was worth every second we spent, because we learned more from that exercise than any textbook could ever teach. What we didn’t realize at the time was that she was teaching us to be those professionals.

I could go on telling stories about the things we learned, and how we even managed to scoop AND upstage a local television station – all because of what “Ma” had taught us, not the least of which was professionalism. However, I will save some of those for a different blog or two… Right now, let’s bounce forward in time just a bit and see if we can eventually tie all this together. Hang on, because as usual there will be whiplash involved…

I’m assuming everyone has seen The Incredibles?

If not, well, you should. Fun movie. At any rate, the reason I bring this up is that there is a character named Violet. She is filled with teenage angst, and wears her hair hanging down mostly over her face. It’s sort of a visual metaphor to illustrate the angst and insecurity she is experiencing at that awkward age. At least, that’s what I gleaned from it. Maybe she was actually just hiding a zit and I’m reading too much into the characterization.

But, I digress…

I can hear you now. “But… But… What the hell does any of this have to do with your mentor, Murv?”

Well, I’m glad you asked. Here’s the thing – My 10 year old daughter does the same thing with her hair. It hangs down in her face and just drives us nuts (her teachers too). Apparently she can see just fine – if her grades are any indication. But, the rest of us on the other side of the follicular curtain have no clue how she manages it. I suppose she might have some sheepdog in her somewhere, but  I’m thinking it would have to come from E Kay’s side. But, don’t tell The Evil One I said that, okay?

Anywho, the other day I was doing the typical parental complaining at the O-spring regarding said hair. After all, as a parent it is a moral imperative that I do so. Finally, in exasperation, I threatened her with the fact that I was considering grabbing a “chip clip” from the potato chip bag in the kitchen and affixing her hair back out of her eyes with it.

As the words flew out of my mouth a long forgotten memory rose the the surface and began pummeling me about my head and shoulders. Yeah… This is where “Ma” comes back into the story.

Back in seventy-koff-koff, as I sat in the main studio of KRSH, reading news on the air, Martha was staring at me through the control room window. I had no clue what I’d done, or not done, but she had one of “those looks” on her face. If you don’t know the look of which I speak, well, I’m not sure what to say. I guess you had to be there and know “Ma”. But, when she had one of “those looks” we all knew she was either disappointed in us (deservedly, I assure you), torqued at something, or was up to some kind of mischief. At any rate, as soon as I finished the headlines and “tossed it” to the engineer for a recorded PSA break (Public Service Announcement), and the mics were dead, “Ma” disappeared. Before the first PSA was finished playing, the door to the studio opened and in she marched. Without saying a single word she pulled my hair back out of my face and clipped it to the top of my head with a large, spring binder clip. Then, still mute, she turned on her heel and exited.

Let me tell you, I finished the broadcast with the clip still in my hair, and even waited 10 minutes after I was off-air before I even thought about taking it out.

As it happens, it wasn’t very long after I had this flashback that Martha and I  ran into one another on Facebook, which was a great bit of serendipity. I say that because I was afforded the opportunity to tell her how important she had been in shaping my life and career. I mean, after all, writing became my profession, and I attribute much of that to her.

But, just as important, she is directly responsible for another skill set that I hadn’t realized I might one day need – I know how to do impromptu hairstyling with a paperclip.

Thanks, Ma. In your honor, I’m passing the knowledge along to a new generation…

More to come…

Murv

Note: Martha Ackmann wrote a wonderful non-fiction book titled, The Mercury 13, about women pilots involved in the early days of the Mercury space program. I highly recommend it. Her latest book is Curveball: The Remarkable Story of Toni Stone.

This is a typo. This is a typo on drugs… Any questions?

Today’s missive is just a quick Public Service Announcement. Granted, it is as much for my own sanity as it is for serving the public… Actually, it might not serve the public that much… Maybe not at all… But, I’m pretty sure it will make me feel better, so I’m going to do it anyway… (and, as it turns out, it’s nowhere near as quick as I thought it was going to be…)

So, anywho… Long about once each year I receive an email from someone who is itching to tell about “it.” I mean literally, they want to tell me about the word “it.” In particular, the possessive form “its” and the contraction for “it is,” that being “it’s.” You see, these folks are under the impression I don’t know the difference.

To be fair, I can see where they may believe this to be true. I’ll explain that in just a minute. But, moving right along…

Sometimes these folks are exceptionally rude and pedantic about “it.” They have even been known to call me names and write very uppity, nasty, holier-than-thou missives, talking down to me from their crumbling pedestals – I say crumbling because it never fails that the folks who elect to be nasty about “it” send letters and email that are riddled with other typos and horrendous grammatical errors. To their credit, however, they do get “it” correct. But, credit or no, I think these people should seek counseling for anger management and learn to interact with others sans the attitude.

Now, on the other hand, some folks are very nice about it. While the belabored point is still very annoying to me, I can appreciate folks who are nice and to them I raise a glass. Hell, I actually take the time to answer their letters and emails about “it.”

The nasty folks, not so much…

At any rate, time has rolled around again for me to receive an email about “it.” This time the young lady was very nice about it and we exchanged a few notes, played with pencils on the group W bench, and generally had a good time. So, no problem there…

Still, in the interest of trying to make this whole thing go away – which I never, ever will I’m sure – not that I won’t keep trying – we have today’s blog entry.

Around a decade ago, my first novel landed on bookstore shelves. Harm None: A Rowan Gant Investigation. Not my best work… I mean, hell, it’s a first novel. Even so, it’s pretty damn good – in my opinion, anyway. Good enough that it is in its umpteenth printing at this point. But, I’m not here to brag on Harm None. I’m here to apologize for an error that in and of itself is a comedy of errors. A sad, tragic, and painful comedy, but a comedy nonetheless. Both the publisher and I have apologized for this screw-up countless times. However, I suspect I will continue to do so for the rest of my life when I receive my annual complaint email.

You see, it’s like this – As is often done, a manuscript will see a rough layout and be bound with basic cover art, all for the purpose of rushing it out to reviewers. These ARC’s (Advance Reader Copies) are usually either imprinted with the above acronym, the words themselves, or “stickered” as such. This way the reviewer knows that the book is likely to have typos, formatting anomalies, and even grammatical errors which haven’t been fixed yet. The reason this is done is that most all review publications and reviewers are so swamped that it is necessary to provide them with a review copy 4 to 6 months in advance of the book release. Often times the editing process is only just entering its stride at this point, and is far from over.

And so, this brings us to the sad, sad comedy of errors that has plagued me these last 10 years…

When I wrote Harm None I was using an ANCIENT DOS based word processing program, with a very buggy, “freeware”, auto-correcting third-party spelling and grammar checker. Unfortunately, you get what you pay for and while the programmer who wrote this bit of freeware was good with code, s/he wasn’t so stellar with grammar. And so, all of my “its” became “it’s”.

I neglected to double check things after running the checker. My bad.

No biggie though. Editors fix these things, and in fact, the “it’s” that needed to be “its” were corrected. But alas, the tragic comedy still wanted its day in the sun.

Through an unfortunate mix-up, the uncorrected ARC files were mounted when the first print run was scheduled for Harm None. The presses whirred, paper flew, ink splattered, and before anyone caught it, close to 2000 copies of the novel were printed using the wrong signature and cover files.

No worries… The presses were stopped, the proper files mounted, and the process began all over again.

Of course, the not so funny comedy wasn’t through yet.

Through mis-communication, overly efficient workers, and not so divine providence IMHO, books printed from the improper files – which had been set aside to be destroyed – were instead bound, trimmed, stacked, packed, and then shipped.

Shipped to distributors, stores, and the four winds.

The dark and tragic comedy laughed as it watched bookstores, distributors, and even me sell the flawed books to unsuspecting readers, all the while unaware of the ugly practical joke fate was playing upon us.

Then, we found out. Unlike the comedy itself, we did not laugh. In fact, I cried, as did my publisher, publicist, and even some of my friends.

So, there you have it. Something on the order of 1800+ horribly flawed copies of Harm None have been in circulation for 10 years now, and it seems that many of them have found their way into libraries. And, as will happen, I get my annual email/letter from someone who wishes to lecture me – or, more rarely, simply point out in a polite manner – the difference between “its” and “it’s.”

For the record, I know the difference. And, also for the record, you have my most profuse apologies for this horrible error that has been perpetrated upon you, me, and the rest of the reading public. If I could make those 1800 flawed copies go away, I would. But, I cannot. My Kung-Fu just isn’t that strong…

So, in closing, here is an easy way for you to know if you or your library is in possession of one of these flawed copies of Harm None:

If the cover on your copy of Harm None looks like the picture above, with a delineated grey panel down the center, and a grey box on the back, you are holding either an original ARC or an ARC that should never have been. If this is the case, please don’t email me with a lecture on grammar, spelling, “its vs. it’s”, or any other complaint about formatting or even coffee stains for that matter.

If the cover looks like this one, then you are in possession of a proper and/or later printing. This is not to say you won’t find a latent typo. One or two squeak by now and again, no matter how good the editor. But, look at the copyright page to check the date of the reprint, because reported typos are always fixed in subsequent printings.

On a next to final note – The cover art for Harm None might be changing. I have recently been informed that the Mass Market Paperback editions of the first three Rowan Gant Investigations novels – the only books in the series to have been released as Mass Market originals – are to be discontinued when the current stock runs out.

However, do not fear – the books will remain in print.

They are simply being re-formatted to a 6X9 Trade Paperback size to match the rest of the RGI novels. In making this format switch, it is entirely possible fresh cover art will be employed.

Personally, I’m looking forward to seeing what they do, as I am constantly amazed by the cover art they come up with for all of their titles, not just mine.

Now, for the final note – regarding the flawed copies themselves. I have heard – though I have only the words of some eyewitnesses – that at least one of these flawed copies sold at a charity auction for nearly $200 due to its “rareness.”

Personally, I won’t consider it truly rare until I stop receiving the complaint emails, but hey, if $200 was raised for charity then I am willing to say this tragic comedy had itself a happy ending.

Of course, that note probably isn’t as final as I’d like, because I suspect I’ll be writing about this again just one short year from now, just like I have for the past decade…

More to come…

Murv