I didn't make much money selling books today, but Bob Rubenstein, author of Ghost Runners, paid me for editing his second novel, The White Bridge, although I haven't finished working on it yet. I didn't want to accept the money. I only wanted to be paid if he believed I helped him, even though it's been a lot of work. I consider it an exercise. Who knows, I may have to work on a publisher's proof of one of my novels some day, so I may as well stay sharp. It's a first draft. Few authors get it right the initial time through. I usually do five drafts and any number of proofs until I think a work is ready. It's a madman's endeavor. The first draft, which is 100% creation, is the most fun, of course. Thereon, the ratio of creation to work begins to reverse until the process becomes tedious.
Without giving too much away, Bob's book is historical fiction about dark secrets from America and Britain's past, pre-WWII. Familiar names such as Margaret Sanger, Al Capone, Carl Sandburg and Groucho Marx figure prominently. The novel has required so much work that I haven't been able to enjoy it. I've been doing five pages at a time, correcting grammatical errors, improving the prose, and making things clearer. Bob has a tendency to get ahead of himself. I'm trying to get him to slow down, which is not easy. Having begun his literary career so late in life - he's about 65 - he feels pressed for time. I hope I will be of help. Only one thing worries me - if I really knew what I was doing, I'd be a lot further along in my own "career." To bolster my confidence, Bob picked up a copy of Adjustments, opened it at random, and started reading, praising the writing. Fortunately, it sounded competent. Thanks, my friend.
And thanks to the nice lady who purchased The Encyclopedia of Art, Volume One.
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