I’ve taken 6 months off from regular, full-time, consulting work. After nearly 16 years divided between software development and martial arts training and teaching I needed a break. I’d never really had a real break; If I wasn’t working, I was in Japan training. That, coupled with my ever growing disenchantment with what can only be described as glorified body shopping, prompted me to take a 6 month break.
It has been fantastic for many reasons. Suffice to say, I’ve been enjoying at least a glimpse of how it might feel to one day be independently wealthy. Alas, I fear that day may never come but, fingers crossed, never underestimate the power of positive thinking! Now where did I put that lotto ticket… ;-)
The timing was perfect; no work; lots of free time; and as fortune (or have I spoken too soon) would have it, an opportunity, along with a contract, to write a book landed in my lap. Nothing particularly rivetting mind you; Nothing earth-shattering nor ground-breaking. In fact a topic that has, in most peoples estimation, been done to death. But, if the publisher thinks there’s a market, then who am I to knock back the chance to show how inept I am with the English language, not to mention demonstrate to the world how truly woeful my coding skills have become. Besides, it’s a topic I personally find interesting.
And so it came to pass that, after nearly two months in the wilderness, I finally found something to rant about!
For a start, having a publisher and editor and all the hooha that goes along with producing a manuscript, is really no different than having a customer that wants a bit of software written. They have deadlines. They want upfront estimates and plans. They think that somehow, magically, I’ll know at day one what the entire book will look like down to 5 levels of headings! And worse, when you send them a sample chapter, they write back saying, “thanks for that but not only is it not complete, it could do with some pictures, and go into a bit more detail.” Riiiiiight. That’s like asking a user for feedback and recieving “um, it doesn’t work”. They don’t seem to understand that I don’t write Mills and Boon for a living. I’m a geek. I write, well, geeky stuff. Like code and scripts and, well more code.
Don’t get me wrong, I do enjoy writing. Actually I think I enjoy hearing the sound of my own voice more than writing but that’s another matter. What I’m not keen on is writing for 10 days, submitting it, and finding out that “um, actually, no. Sorry. That’s completely wrong. Please start again.”
The publishing industry seems to run waterfall. I was absolutely astonished. It had never even occurred to me that would be the case. They expect you to have a finished chapter submitted pretty much in it’s final form. First time. Every time. The idea of submitting a half-baked chapter for a sanity check seemed almost abhorrent to them. “Dear god!” I thought. “What is an editor for?” Not what I had originally assumed, obviously.
I need constant feedback. I need to know if I’m heading off into the rapids, not once I’ve capsized, but at least a few days before if possible. I also want to work on different chapters at once. I’m more than happy to add a bit here, a bit there, move stuff around. That’s just the way my brain works. I like to put together little pieces of the puzzle, bit by bit. I like to layer on the different aspects of the work; tests; code; explanation; bit of introduction; etc. It’s the same approach I take to writing code. I guess that’s just how my brain works.
So, after a bit of back-and-forth with my editor, we finally got it all straightened out. She was most understanding and very helpful. She explained what she needed and why. She expanded a little on the areas she thought needed more explanation, figures, etc. And once again I was happy with the content. Nevertheless the process remained waterfall and this continued to bother me.
After a little brainstorming with my saviour in all things planning, James, the antedote became clear. I just needed to do what any self-respecting agile bigot does in a waterful infested pool; erect a facade; interpose another layer between myself and the editor; make it appear that there is a perfect, uninterrupted, cascading of chapters from top to bottom. We decided that it would be a good idea to use my work colleages and a couple of my siblings (both geek types) to review and comment on what I was doing as I went. They would understand I hoped. They knew what it was like. Then when we were happy with the content and layout, I’d send the completed chapters through.
So here I am at the beginning of the last 28 days of the first 25% of my first book, changing tack mid-stream and paddling like crazy in the vain hope that I won’t fall over the edge of a literary Niagra Falls.
God Speed!