radegund: (poitiers)
This week I'm working through the first round of copyedits on my novel. Oh em gee.

Thing is, I've waited half my life - at least - for this experience. "My first novel arrives back from the copyeditor" is for me, in the Girlish Dreams stakes, somewhat akin to "man of my dreams goes down on one knee and produces polished rock".

(For the record, I didn't do that latter dream. The actual man of my dreams, viz. [livejournal.com profile] niallm, proposed morridge to me on his two feet, while I was brushing my teeth ... so my first response was to spit. This is not to denigrate anyone else's Girlish Dreams, but simply to emphasise the relative importance of the copyediting thing.)

This is the first round of edits, which aim to clean it up enough to go out in advance of the Frankfurt Book Fair. And that's another squee: I remember my father going to the Frankfurt Book Fair in around 1980 - it was clearly an occasion of unparalleled glitz. Apparently nobody reads books at the fair, don'tcha know, so it needs to be ready in advance.

Deadline on Friday.

Word by word...
radegund: (Default)

Happy St Radegund's Day, one and all!

Up to what is your (perhaps less than ideally) faithful correspondent?

Click here to find out... )

That'll do for the nonce. Onwards and upwards. Vincero, etc.
radegund: (stone-sparkles)
The life of the Radzer has improved greatly since the Bad Wednesday of ill memory. Factors influencing this upturn in wellbeing include:

1. Oisín! He's great. He has a beautiful, slow, confiding smile that just whomps my heart whenever it's directed at me. He can wave bye-bye (although not always on cue); he can walk along the furniture; he can give you what he's holding when you ask him for it (and he's now even remembering to let go of it most of the time). He's fascinated by balls. They roll! They hit off each other and go in unexpected directions! He gives out this deep gut-chuckle when you blow raspberries on his neck or beep his nose or eat his fingers, and he loves playing frog-on-the-head (you'd have to be there ... maybe I should take some pictures). Also, alleluia, he's eating vegetables again (thanks, [livejournal.com profile] ailbhe - your suggestion about consistency seems to have been the key: he doesn't like lumps). He'll be ten months old tomorrow, and I love him more fiercely than I would have believed possible.

2. [livejournal.com profile] niallm! He's also great. We've had a fairly ropey week, sleep-wise, and he's been a rock and a pillar and a tower and ... maybe some other less phallic images of strength. On Saturday and Sunday he took the morning shift, allowing me to sleep on. There's nothing quite so stonkingly cool as the grin he sometimes gets from Oisín when he comes into view.

3. Delightful phone call with [livejournal.com profile] glitzfrau on Thursday, in two phases, punctuated by an unheralded visit from a friend I hadn't seen in ages. It's good to talk to my old friends. I miss having people around who've known me for years - who remember what I was like when I was twenty - who get my in-jokes. [livejournal.com profile] niallm has many excellent friends, with whom I love spending time, but nearly all of my crew have moved away from Dublin now, and I feel the lack of them. I went to bed on Thursday all happy and relaxed.

4. Denis Cotter, proprietor of Ireland's best vegetarian restaurant, the Café Paradiso in Cork city. More specifically, his recipe for lemon-chickpea pasta, from Paradiso Seasons. For two people, assemble 250g ribbony pasta, some cooked chickpeas (about half a 400g can, if you're using canned, which I did on Thursday), a bunch of flat parsley: tear off the leaves and finely chop any stalks that you consider tender enough, the rind of a lemon and the juice of half thereof, and a chunk of pecorino cheese (or other hard cheese, I suppose, but pecorino is DIVINE in this dish) - maybe about as much as you could comfortably close your fist around. Put lots of olive oil (like, 60ml) in a saucepan big enough to hold the cooked pasta. Add the chickpeas, parsley, lemon rind and lemon juice, and heat for a few minutes while you cook the pasta in another saucepan. Grate the cheese. Drain the pasta and add it to the sauce. Mix in half of the grated cheese and some salt and pepper. Serve with the rest of the cheese on top. Die of the delish.

5. Doctor Whooooooooooooo! (We have our curmudgeonly reservations, but in general, eeeeeeeeeeee!)

6. My application to move to a four-day week has been approved! I'll start in July, for six months initially. The hope is that Oisín will be sleeping longer by then, but we'll see how it goes. Even better, the latest increases under Benchmarking and Sustaining Progress mean that the cut in my net salary is substantially less drastic than I'd feared.

7. [livejournal.com profile] pleidhce's novel has arrived in the post! An actual, real-life, walking, talking, dancing book by one of my best friends! It can be done! (I'm crawling through the second draft of my front runner at the moment, and I need all the encouragement I can get...)

On a completely different note, why do I have the following rhyme prancing through the wastes of my sleep-deprived brain?

On old Olympus's torrid top,
A Finn and German picked some hops.

Is it real or did I make it up? A Google search has proved fruitless. Anyone?


radegund: (Default)

September 2013

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