Tag Archives: book

Collate

Collate: (v) to collect and combine in proper order

I do not judge my life by my successes, but rather, by the ease involved in achieving them.

I will tell you quite bluntly that success loses much of its excitement and is greatly diminished by finding yourself bogged down in chores. 

I had an idea.

I was in my early twenties and had written a book. I was so damned impressed with myself. I struggled to let people know that I had written a book, so they could grant me adequate praise.

I was impatient. I didn’t want to just write a book, I wanted to print a book and put it in people’s hands, observing them gasp with amazement.

This was before desktop publishing was a common practice. At my disposal were printed sheets which had been typed–and a Xerox machine.

I decided to ask one of my friends to retype the document so it would be as clean and crisp-looking as possible (though I don’t know what clean and crisp
means.)

This was my first mistake.

This lovely lady was obviously going through some sort of mental disruption, and ended up misspelling hundreds of words, which I did not catch because I decided it would be petty to proofread it.

So not only did I have a faulty original, I used a Xerox printer which probably belonged in a college dorm room, and demanded it do the job of an industrial one.

Not only did it refuse, it was rather snotty about it.

Mistake two: after the first fifty pages, the ink cartridge started to fade.

And finally, making sure that I had three mistakes to “uncharm” me, I collated by myself.

So when it came time to have the book fastened together (with staples) and I handed it off to a friend, within three seconds she was giggling.

On page five alone, the word “the” had been misspelled four times in five different ways. (I don’t know how that’s even possible.)

It was also humorous to her that the pages were so faded that she needed a magnifying glass to read them.

And to add insult to depravity, I collated incorrectly, so page 7 followed 5, then 10, then 17…

So I decided that the only way I would be able to offer this book was to put a disclaimer sheet with each and every sale:

  • See how many mistakes you can find!
  • Did you need a magnifying glass to read this, or are your eyes really good?
  • Even though it was an experiment, did you like jumping all over the book to find out what the next page was going to be?

It was one of the saddest days in my life when I had to take all the project–all the paper–all the effort–and toss it in a trashcan.

There is a reason that we leave it to the experts to collate.

After all, it isn’t just some Random House…

 

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Chapter

Chapter: (n) a division of a book

There are two reasons for being different–and there’s a symmetry to this.

Reason one is to make sure that you’re not the same.

Reason two is noticing that something is not as effective as it once was and deciding to evolve.

When I started writing books years ago, most of them were no more than pamphlets. They were desperately in need of editing because, like most ‘scribers,’ I overwrite. But I often did not edit them, being young, immature and contending that each word had a divine right for existence.

You see, that piece of difference was nothing but different. It wasn’t helpful, and sometimes my readers got caught up in the confusion of one of my sentences, and found themselves begging for a clause to rescue them.

But one thing I did accomplish was renaming the chapter. It had a long and storied history in literature, but it was ready for retirement. So I asked myself, what are people doing when they read a book? The answer came quickly. Normally, they’re sitting.

So I changed “Chapters” to “Sittings.”

It was a small thing, but I think folks found it endearing, and some other writers have since taken up the banner.

You see, it’s not that my new name is better than the old name.

Sometimes all that matters is that it’s new–instead of being so damn old.

 

 

 

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Brochure

j-r-practix-with-border-2

Brochure: (n) a small book or magazine containing information or pictures about a product or service.

Dino-words.

These are words which are extinct from the lexicon because they’ve been replaced by other terms and inventions, rendering them useless to the common man or woman.Dictionary B

Two that quickly come to my mind are “tri-fold” and “rubber cement.”

Come listen, my children, and you will hear…

Of what it was like to advertise in fear.

What were we afraid of? Putting together a tri-fold brochure that needed to be typed or, God forbid, type-set, and then cut out and rubber cemented in perfect symmetry onto panels, hoping that when it was shot with a printer’s camera, it would look somewhat like what you originally envisioned.

It was so easy to get things crooked.

The rubber cement was so messy.

And once you glued something down twice, to pull it up and glue it again created wrinkles, bumps and missing pieces of black ink from the letters.

Printers would encourage you by saying, “It’s nearly as good as the original…”

The idea of digital, which allows you to duplicate the original in perfection, was decades in the future, as you took your tiny knife and trimmed the paper down to just the right size, hoping that the corners you glued would not print off shadows. Of course, to achieve that, you had to make sure you didn’t shoot it too dark–or your original layout of printing would appear as a box instead of just words.

The brochure seemed necessary. It was a way of communicating that you were a prosperous organization which had the time and money to put together a pamphlet which explained who you were and therefore gave you credibility.

Now such a simple little task can be achieved in five or ten minutes on a computer and zonked out through your printer–with machines that will even fold it for you.

Progress is a beautiful thing–as long as you remember what you did before progress, and never lose the childlike sense of appreciation for being freed from monotony and meticulous, meaningless maneuvers.

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Blockbuster

Blockbuster: (n) a movie, book, or other product that is a great commercial success.

Dictionary B

“Tell me a story.”

This may be one of the first complete sentences that each of us uttered to our parental figures to delay our bedtime, but also procure an interesting tale.

What is it we like about a story?

  • We have to be able to relate to it in some way.
  • We have to feel something.
  • There has to be a surprise.
  • Maybe a conflict.
  • But the resolution needs to satisfy us–even if sometimes it is basically an unsatisfying conclusion.

Movies are made in Hollywood all the time. I can always tell when a movie is going to make lots of money but fall by the wayside and never be mentioned again–the word “blockbuster” is always assigned to it.

So even though hundreds of blockbusters have been made, garnered profit and slithered into the shadows, it is the simple flick that retains our interest and keeps us coming back for more.

I don’t know how many times I’ve watched The Princess Bride.

How about Shawshank Redemption?

I’m a sucker for Forrest Gump.

Meanwhile, the blockbusters don’t seem to carry the intrigue–because they ask me to watch instead of feel. I’m a human. If I don’t feel, I move on until I find something to feel.

So I completely understand Hollywood–they have worked out a system to make expensive movies minus some heart, which have great opening weekends and procure tons of money.

But even though it won many awards and was a blockbuster, Ben Hur just does not have the lasting appeal of It’s a Wonderful Life.

 

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PoHymn: A Rustling in the Stagnant

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Absitomen

by J. R. Practix

dictionary with letter A

Absitomen:  (exclam.) used to express the hope that something undesirable should not foreshadow its  arrival or occurence. From the Latin: “may this omen be absent.”

Shall we talk about some sucky jobs?

How about campaign manager for a losing Presidential candidate? Hard to get new work.

How about latrine inspector? I know you may think that latrine cleaner might be worse, but at least you would understand your function. Inspector really has to get his nose in the pot.

Here’s another one. How would you like to be the soothsayer in the court of a king in the Dark Ages, who calls you in and wants to know what the outcome of today’s battle will be? You’re supposed to be in charge of reading all the omens.

Let’s just say, for discussion’s sake, that there ARE no omens. Yet you have a king who insists that he needs one. So if you say there are bad omens regarding the battle and he goes out and wins, you will be beheaded. If you say there are good omens for the battle and he loses, you will be likewise headless.

So the only safe thing to do is to stir around some chicken gizzards in a bowl, pour in three fingers worth of vinegar, mumble some magic words and turn to the anxious king and say, “All signs point to a victory.”

Because here’s the scenario: if he loses, you can hope that HE gets killed in the battle and you are part of the retreating army, head intact. If he wins, you will be lavished with gifts for your good omen that summoned victory.

This omen stuff is really dangerous.

Even nowadays, people who study prophecy from scrolls thousands of years old, trying to find hidden meaning for the future, always end up looking stupid. If they’re going to sell an idea or a book, they have to get specific about a date for the end of the world, and then when that date comes and go, they have to survive on the money already made or come up with a reason that the original calculation was off.

I don’t know about this word for today. But I think any time you tie an omen into anything, it’s really… well, it’s really a bad omen.