4 Sep

This is Tom Auclair here, guest-writing Colette’s blog. I had started this last night, but SOMEONE didn’t plug in their computer, so when the power cord accidentally came undone, the computer shut down.

Twice. So you’ll just have to bear with me. My first two lost blogs were hilarious — honest — but I’ll try and re-create them for you here.

As you all know, Colette asked me to proof/copy edit her novel, which is a daunting task for any significant other: I mean, what if it was terrible? I love Colette, and I don’t like lying to her, but I saw myself through gritted teeth saying, “Oh, yes, honey, the part where the dancing bear comes in playing the accordion was very believable.”

Thankfully, there’s no dancing bear. Not even one accordion note. I’m impressed. Despite the horror of finding out that my sweet little petunia mistook “phase” for “faze” — she was horrified when I pointed it out — the writing was clean. I’m not much of a thematic editor — I look for technical errors, and I was relieved when I found out that Colette really DOES know the difference between their/they’re/there and its/it’s, and realizes that “a lot” is actually, really, honestly, two words.

OK, that’s it for the mad ramblings of a copy editor.

What surprised me? How engrossing it was. I told my sweetums that I’d try to get the book done in a week, but honestly, after starting to read it, I couldn’t stop reading. I ended up completing it in a little less than 2 days, finishing the job up at a McDonald’s in Longmont, Colorado, while a Mother of the Year candidate suggested, at full volume, that her two shrieking children come out of the play area RIGHT NOW or they were in for trouble. Yay.

I loved how the relationship between Amanda and Grady seemed so real, how their conversations rang true. I loved how the hurdles they encountered seemed like problems any couple can go through, and weren’t contrived.

And before I knew it, I was done.

I’m so proud of her — so many people talk about writing a book, but she’s done it. Twice. Amazing. And it’s not a steaming pile of poo.

And damn her, she made me cry not once, not twice, but three times with scenes in her book.

Now I’m just wondering, should I bring the black turtleneck when she goes on the book tour, or the gray?

OK, Colette appears to be waking up, so I should probably start making hair jokes. Gotta go.


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