The most gratifying part of my role as publisher is placing the first copy of a brand-new book in the author’s hands. I sometimes think I should wrap it in a receiving blanket, so akin it is to presenting a new baby to the parents. Every author’s journey from the zygote of an idea to the smell of fresh ink in a newly bound book is a long one. The gestation can be filled with endless nights of writing and rewriting, doubts, frustrations, dead-end paths along with “a-ha” moments of clarity, writing “in the groove” when the words flow faster than your fingers can type them and the giddiness of passing the 50,000 words mark.
Occasionally, one of our authors lives elsewhere and I don’t get to do the presentation honors in person. Richard Menzies documented the receipt of the first copies of his book Passing Through and sent it to me:
This picture was shot on what was no doubt the highest (and most terrifying) point in my long so-called career. I’d worked my way up from newspapers to magazines and now here at last came the thing that I had dreamt about my entire life: a book with my name on it! I had been out for my daily morning dog walk, and when I returned, there was a box sitting on my doorstep. From Hong Kong, via Las Vegas. Up until that point I had yet to meet in person my publisher, my editor, my book designer–not even A.D.Hopkins, my contact at the Review-Journal who had graciously championed my manuscript at a time when others were eagerly searching for the self-addressed, stamped return envelope!
The entire thing had been put together electronically. Me, sitting at my computer terminal in Utah, Carolyn at hers in Nevada, Sue at hers in Colorado, the mysterious Sandy Knauke at a still undisclosed location. (Prudent publishers, like realtors negotiating contracts between buyers and sellers, always take care that at no time a writer and his editor are in the same room at the same time.) Text and photos had been transmitted electronically to a printing press in China. The finished product had been shipped on a slow boat across the Pacific to Los Angeles, thence by rail car to Las Vegas. Finally, half a dozen books were sent to the author via United Parcel Service.
For the next several hours, I paced the floor, too frightened to open the box. Over the years, I’ve spent countless hours in the darkroom, straining to craft beautiful photographs–only to see them muddied up and murdered by clueless pressmen. I’d spent an entire summer proofreading the text, and now what did I see? TWO TYPOGRAPHICAL ERRORS ON THE BOX ALONE!
Finally, I summoned the courage to open the box. To my infinite relief, the book was even nicer than I had envisioned. Much nicer, in fact! To this day people continue to compliment me on the layout, the typography, the first rate photo reproduction. I had nothing to do with any of that, of course, but still I take all the credit. Because–what the hey? My name’s on the cover!
Too, just like children, authors will find their book leads them to unexpected places, opportunities and adventures. Richard’s Passing Through is now the subject of a PBS documentary that will air November 20, 2008. The book also received the Bronze Award for travel book of the year from Foreword magazine and was a finalist for the Independent Publishers regional non-fiction book of the year.
I LOVE Richard Menzie’s account of receiving the first copy of his beautiful book. It was honest and touching and funny. Then my own experience came back in a flash. I must share it. When my first 200 copies arrived by UPS in ten small boxes, a strong young woman delivered them to my door. I frightened her because I screamed in her face,
“OMIGOD…MY FIRST BOOK HAS ARRIVED.”
“You wrote a book?” she asked.
I screamed again. “YES. THIS IS IT.”
All she could say was “Wow. Do you want to see it?”
Yes, I wanted to see it.
Dina Collett was her name and she helped open a box with her handy pocket knife that UPS folks carry on their utility belts. I pushed away the papers and lifted the first book out of the box. While staring at the beautiful thing she said, “You must be proud.” Yes, I told her that I wasreally proud.
“It’s beautiful,” she said. I agreed but I couldn’t talk. We were so quiet that it felt like a church moment. It seemed that we were holding a piece of lavendar colored cryptonite.
I said, “Dina, I want you to have the first copy.”
“Really? I would love that,” she said. “I’m going to share this with my mom who lost my dad two years ago.”
So I signed the paper that proved I had received 200 copies of my first book, Dancing in My Nightgown: The Rhythms of Widowhood. Then the UPS lady left, but not before I gave her a big fat hug.
After she waved and drove away, I got the second book out of the box and described this moment on the inside cover. It’s still a very poignant memory. I think I might have forgotten about it if I hadn’t read Menzies’ story.
– Betty Auchard
Both of these stories just warm my cockles. I think I love every (well almost every) book as much as the author does. And when they leave my Mac and go winging, or zipping or however it is they make their way to the Orient, I feel a bit like the parent running along behind the bike when the training wheels come off. Will we be celebrating a milestone, or patching skinned knees?
I hope that the files I’ve prepared run through the prepress process flawlessly and come back to me in the form of beautiful and perfect press proofs, and that soon after I too receive that first pristine copy. When I open it up and that fresh ink smell hits my nose it’s almost as fascinating as counting your baby’s toes the morning after delivery.
While not every book, OK, few books, are absolutely perfect in every way I liken it to the little unexpected freckle on your baby–you love them just the same. I’m not the book’s mama, but maybe I’m a surrogate. Or a really good OB nurse.