Zzzzzzzzzz
ASP.NET 3.5 and AJAX. Five hundred pages of PDF to proofread.
In five and a half days.
It's now 3:15am and I have another hundred or so pages to do before morning, because I promised the production editor I'd have her at least a few chapters by Monday morning. And now it's Monday morning.
Just. Kill. Me. Now.
Why, oh why are all the interesting fiction books being sent to the young copyeditors now instead of us old farts who actually know what we're doing? Oh right. The young things cost less money to the publishers. And for my sins of being over the age of thirty, I do my penance with run-on sentences written by people whose first language surely cannot be English. And I'm not allowed to edit these sentences -- oh, no. No, for these jewels, every word must be preserved as it is because some developmental editor signed off on the galleys decorating my computer screen, and I, the lowly proofreader (for this tome), am not allowed to change a precious word. A dot. An iota.
Someone point me to some good DW fic to read (FL, you can assume I'm already reading yours...). Now. Before I slit my throat with a red pencil.
In five and a half days.
It's now 3:15am and I have another hundred or so pages to do before morning, because I promised the production editor I'd have her at least a few chapters by Monday morning. And now it's Monday morning.
Just. Kill. Me. Now.
Why, oh why are all the interesting fiction books being sent to the young copyeditors now instead of us old farts who actually know what we're doing? Oh right. The young things cost less money to the publishers. And for my sins of being over the age of thirty, I do my penance with run-on sentences written by people whose first language surely cannot be English. And I'm not allowed to edit these sentences -- oh, no. No, for these jewels, every word must be preserved as it is because some developmental editor signed off on the galleys decorating my computer screen, and I, the lowly proofreader (for this tome), am not allowed to change a precious word. A dot. An iota.
Someone point me to some good DW fic to read (FL, you can assume I'm already reading yours...). Now. Before I slit my throat with a red pencil.