Land on Demand Editing Proofreading Indexing: back in the saddle

What It Is (posts below left; rate sheet, client list, other stuff below right)

My name is Bob Land. I am a full-time freelance editor and proofreader, and occasional indexer. This blog is my website.

You'll find my rate sheet and client list here, as well as musings on the life of a freelancer; editing, proofreading, and indexing concerns and issues; my ongoing battles with books and production; and the occasional personal revelation.

Feel free to contact me directly with additional questions: landondemand@gmail.com.

Thanks for visiting. Leave me a comment. Come back often.

Wednesday, November 5, 2008

back in the saddle

I guess it's bad pun time. After 5 chiropractic treatments and actually paying attention (mostly) to what the chiropractor told me to do, I'm back [ugh] at about 95 percent health. The price I'm paying: I'm doing all my proofreading and copyediting work standing up.

This approach is interesting. I think it's making me a little sharper so far. On top of my picnic table/desk I have 19 coffeetable books, a few days worth of the Bristol Herald Courier (which makes up barely the first two sections of the Sunday NY Times), and a DHL large box, which brings stacks of paper up to about my fourth rib. It's probably not ideal for my neck -- the pile needs to be a little higher -- so I might add another DHL box, or perhaps a FedEx box, just to keep things even.

Of course, my legs get a little tired, but I sure don't want to revisit the near-paralysis of last week. If I'm sitting, I'm supposed to stand and walk around and stretch every 20 minutes or so, but this weekend we are going to a friend's postwedding party near Chapel Hill, about 3.5 to 4 hours from here. I guess that'll be a test run for the 11-hour drive to Suffield CT in December, during which, god willing, there will be no snow.

Indexing thus is a pain, literally and figuratively, and I have three to do in the next week or two. I'm about 2/3rds through one, but have put it on hold; 1/3rd through another, which I started working on by marking entries in the margins -- another new approach, but really only possible because the publisher wants a light index; and on the third, it looks like it's not that academic, so hopefully, it won't be so hard to get through rather quickly. Oh, and there's a fourth as well, which is really more of an update of an older edition's index. The authors and publisher were happy with the first edition, so they mostly want me to update page numbers and write entries for new material. Sounds easy enough, and it's more of a practical than an academic book, so maybe I can sit through it without dreading it too badly.

I heard there was an election this week. Did anything interesting happen? Actually, I worked at the polls handing out "sample ballots" for about five hours on Tuesday morning, which was nice, because I was standing up the whole time. I appear to now be facing a life operating against the credo of my dear deceased Aunt Muriel: "I am never standing up when I could be sitting down, and I am never sitting down when I could be laying down." I guess if I had spent more time laying down, I wouldn't have been to the chiropractor. It's the middle step that's troublesome.

The local congressman ran unopposed here. He is a wildly popular Democrat in a largely Republican district; to give an idea, the Obama folks worked their butts off here hoping to get 35 percent, and the local Democratic representative ran unopposed. I am considering saving my pennies and running against him (or, more precisely, just putting my name on the ballot) as a Republican in 2010. I would pony up the fee and do absolutely no campaigning. I'd answer any questions the media asked me, probably going against the Republican Party line on most issues. But I figure if I'm on the ballot as a Republican in this district, I'm pulling 30 percent right off the bat just for being there, even against a very popular congressman. I'd probably lose half of that once people figured out who I was and especially if they bothered to read what I thought, but hell, how many people ever get 15 percent in the ballot box running for Congress? Could the Republicans disown me if I qualified to run in their primary and ran unopposed? I just don't like seeing no choice on the ballots. Never have. I might even get a few votes just for chutzpah, but first I'd have to define chutzpah for the locals. And should I run as a long-hair or a bullet-head? Choices, choices.

Back to work. Plowing (standing up) through a too-long tome about the ins and outs of being a landlord.

Dear landlord,
Please don't put a price on my soul.
My burden is heavy,
My dreams are beyond control.
When that steamboat whistle blows,
I'm gonna give you all I got to give,
And I do hope you receive it well,
Dependin' on the way you feel that you live.

Dear landlord,
Please heed these words that I speak.
I know you've suffered much,
But in this you are not so unique.
All of us, at times, we might work too hard
To have it too fast and too much,
And anyone can fill his life up
With things he can see but he just cannot touch.

Dear landlord,
Please don't dismiss my case.
I'm not about to argue,
I'm not about to move to no other place.
Now, each of us has his own special gift
And you know this was meant to be true,
And if you don't underestimate me,
I won't underestimate you.

Copyright ©1968; renewed 1996 Dwarf Music

Boy, those lyrics hit the mark.

PS: Alaska, thanks for checking in on the blog. Now I'm just waiting on Russia. Ukraine, Kiev . . . come on, you wacky Muscovites. What's a guy gotta do?

1 comment:

moi said...: Ooo ooo! Can I be your campaign manager? Really, I promise I won't make you say anything republitarded. Nor will I make you wear a beret.; November 6, 2008 at 4:22 PM

Rate Sheet

Bob Land's Rate Sheet

Note: Different rates may apply for self-publishing or overseas authors.

Copyediting—Take the word count of your manuscript and divide it by 265. That's a billable page. Remember to include footnotes/endnotes in the word count.

Electronic edit—edited files returned to publisher/author: $5+/page

Marked-up manuscript returned to publisher/author for keying changes—$5.25+/page

Typical turnaround time: 3–4 weeks from receipt of manuscript

Substantive editing—See above for determining page count.

Electronic edit—edited files returned to publisher/author—$6.25+/page

Marked-up manuscript returned to publisher/author for keying changes—$8+/page

Typical turnaround time: 3–4 weeks from receipt of manuscript

Higher editing rates apply for material that requires extensive rewriting or that includes complicating elements, such as massive reworking or cross-checking of documentation. Technical manuscripts (legal, medical, etc.) also subject to higher rates.

Contact me for bids on work if English is not your primary written language.

Indexing—Based on a 6x9 page; other page sizes adjusted proportionately

$5+/indexable page

$6+/indexable page for biographies and military histories

Typical turnaround time: 3–4 weeks from receipt of page proofs

Proofreading—based on a 6x9, one-column page; other page sizes and formats adjusted accordingly

Cold read—$2+/book page

Read against manuscript—$3+/book page

Typical turnaround time: 14 days from receipt of page proofs

Rush fees

Editing 25 percent surcharge for 8- to 14-day turnaround; 50 percent surcharge for 7-day turnaround

Indexing 25 percent surcharge for 7-day turnaround; 50 percent surcharge for 4- to 6-day turnaround

Proofreading 50 percent surcharge for 5- to 7-day turnaround; 100 percent surcharge for 3- to 4-day turnaround; if you need it faster than that, we can talk

I can accept hard copy sent to the address below, or PDF or Word files emailed to address below.

Copying fee (for example, if you want me to keep a copy of work that I’m sending): $.06/standard page.

Shipping charges paid by publisher/author. Preferred method is for publisher/author to provide shipping account number (FedEx or UPS); alternate: billed with final invoice.

All invoices payable upon receipt. 30 percent payable at start of project/task for new clients or self-publishing authors.

Brushes with Fame

1. An old friend had to remind me of this one, because he remembers more about my life than I do. When I was a youngster, I threw up on Johnny Carson in an NYC theatre. Would have been in the early 1960s. I have no recollection of the event, but from what my mother said, he apparently handled it well.
2. The family went down to Plains, GA, maybe around 2004 to sit in on Jimmy Carter's Sunday school class. Afterward people could line up for a photo op with the president and Mrs. Carter. As we were in line, Tere (my wife) said, "I'm going to give him a kiss." I responded, "Wonderful. I'll catch up with you after Secret Service breaks your kneecaps." As we stepped up to pose with the Carters, my darling wife, never a wallflower, leans over and pecks him on the cheek. He just smiled and said, "Right on!"
3. Backstage with Stanley Clarke, after Return to Forever performance, Atlanta, 8/2/2008. See photo below.
4. Internationally acclaimed artist Thornton Dial was bribed fifty dollars to let our family give him a ride home; Birmingham to Bessemer, AL. Dial is justifiably suspicious of white folks he doesn't know; actually, I might have to say that's one thing we have in common. I'm always happy when going to a party to see a good dog to engage in proper conversation.
5. Gave a very drunk John Fahey a ride to an Atlanta airport hotel after a depressing performance, during which he became progressively more wasted on stage and basically just babbled more than playing guitar. Among his comments were that his father-in-law offered to give Fahey some money if his wife (the guy's daughter) would lose some weight. The sight of seeing the slump-shouldered Fahey shuffling into the hotel carrying his guitars haunts me still.
6. Lunch with Jane Fonda at Bulloch House, Warm Springs, GA, the morning after she filed for divorce from Massa Ted. The first time I saw her was when she stepped out of the back of the car she was sleeping in at the home of a folk artist we were both going to see: the Prophet Jesse Marshall. (She had apparently been up all night.) Bulloch House is a southern-style buffet, which La Jane took to right away. No healthy eating there. She was quite angered when they removed her plate from the table while she had stepped away before she had a chance to finish what she'd put on there to begin with. After spending some time with our two boys, she offered to adopt them if ever anything happened to my wife and me.
7. Garrison Keillor rode in my car; spoke with him later at apres-performance dessert party, Abingdon, VA. Keillor was invited (paid) to give a fundraising performance at Barter Theatre, the state theatre of Virginia, where my wife works. They needed a big vehicle to pick up Keillor, so they borrowed my Chevy Tahoe. Quite tall Keillor apparently sat in the way back and spoke on the cell phone the entire time (I was not invited to be in the car to pick him up). For a while we could say that our car had his DNA in it, but then we traded it in on a Prius, which gets 48 miles a gallon -- a whole lot better value than having a car where Garrison Keillor once sat. He was very nice after his performance, though -- apparently totally against type. I told him that A Prairie Home Companion used to save my Saturday nights in the early '80s when I was working at the printing plant.
8. Physically bumped into Jack Nicholson upstairs at Sardi's -- the famous Broadway theatre district bar -- 1977; the occasion was an "audition" (that is, a fundraiser) for a play that some folks were trying to get produced. The playwright and composer and two of the leads they had cast were there performing all the songs. Maybe 20 people were there, sitting in folding chairs gathered around the piano. One of the songs was a little ditty called "Tomorrow." The play ended up being Annie. Why, as a 17-year-old, I was invited to this gig is far less interesting, but one of the oddities of my life.
9. A very slight brush. Back around 1978 when I was in college, some friends and I traveled from Atlanta to Huntsville, AL, because, before transferring to school in Atlanta, one of my friends had been instrumental in arranging for Hunter S. Thompson to give a talk at the University of Alabama at Huntsville campus. Because of my friend’s remaining connections at the UAH campus, we knew when Thompson’s plane would be arriving, so we prepared ourselves properly to meet him at the airport—kind of the unofficial welcoming party. So we are positioned in the concourse and see Dr. Thompson’s unique stride coming toward us (along with the official welcoming party of two or three students). There are three or four of us unofficial types—longhaired, eyes glazed, and mostly in awe. My friend says in his most cultured tone, “Ah, Dr. Thompson,” at which point we begin genteel applause, as if we are at a ladies’ tea party or piano recital. Thompson takes one frightened look at us and darts into the airport bar. We follow, and take up our spots at the table next to him and his minders, trying to glean what we can from the conversation, which is virtually impossible, because even at his best, Thompson speech is mostly incomprehensible. After about 15 or 20 minutes, Thompson gets up to leave, stops by our table, and says, “Sorry. I thought you were some of Wallace’s boys,” referring to former governor, presidential candidate, and opportunistic segregationist George Wallace. Looking at us, you would have hardly associated us with Wallace supporters, but we were happy for the moment of attention and humor from the good doctor. When we saw him the next day giving his talk for the students, I’m not sure I understood one of every 10 words he said, but as a brush with fame goes, the trip was well worth it.
10. Added starter: Once when I was ushering at the Fox Theatre in Atlanta (early 1980s), I heard the Grateful Dead perform "Let It Be" for their sound check. Deadheads who've listened to thousands of hours of bootleg tapes assure me that the band never played that song. Well, maybe not during a concert, but I know what I saw and heard, performed for about 30 ushers and the guys at the sound board, who seemed to be more occupied with the lines of coke in front of them. Jerry Garcia and Donna Godchaux singing, if you're keeping score at home.