I heard the old adage in my title a while ago, but this week turned out to be a perfect example. My project editor at University Press of Mississippi (UPM) for Becoming Ezra Jack Keats had alerted me that the copy editor would be finished with her work on the manuscript-in-progress and have it to me by June 16. I would have a deadline to read it for approval and make any additional changes before returning it by June 30. I had taken a good look at my calendar: Memorial Day on Monday, our wedding anniversary on Wednesday, a long-awaited art exhibit (since the pandemic started) for a friend on Friday. Without few real deadlines on my calendar, it seemed the perfect week to take some time off before I needed to return to the next stage of the book journey.
My plan for the week included: My three-mile walk every day, my Zoom critique group on Monday and Thursday, anniversary lunch with Al on Wednesday, the art reception on Friday, gardening every morning until it got hot, and then filling the rest of my week with reading, working a jigsaw puzzle, and watching recorded favorite movies (The Music Man and Fiddler on the Roof). My plan worked nicely all the way through Monday.
Tuesday morning, I awoke to find an email sent at 12:38 AM. The detailed letter from my UPM copy editor introduced herself and gave a comprehensive description of how we will proceed from this point. It had an attachment with the manuscript and her suggested changes. Encouraging me to examine the work carefully, she repeated more than once that the book was mine, giving me the final call, and assured me that her goal was to help present it to readers in the clearest way possible.
My deadline of June 30 did not change, but if you think I could take time off with that copy-edited attachment lurking on my computer, you don’t know me well. I’ve been back in my chair looking at detailed and perceptive notes the copy editor has made on my manuscript. So far, I am impressed with her keen attention and her understanding of the importance of the story. I’ve only written “stet” once. If God is really laughing at my plans, I may have joined Him.