In case you’re not familiar with the phrase in the blog
title, it’s typically used when a group sends a mass of letters to the editor
that are obviously all the same text, just submitted by different people.
A new and welcome author came in over the transom a few days
ago, and I asked how the person was familiar with my services. The
response:
A mentor of mine, a serial entrepreneur, asked a
couple of his contacts on my behalf. He stated your name was given on multiple
occasions.
Not sure there were actually either a couple of contacts or
multiple occasions. Smacks a little of an echo chamber, but I’m happy for the
buzz.
+++
More on the testimonial front. Received a 120,000-word novel
for copyediting, and the publisher couldn't take the job unless she could
get quite hasty turnaround on the job in order to meet a print deadline:
Getting this done so quickly has helped me and the
author so much, Bob. I can’t thank you enough.
And from a university press whose name you’d know:
The level of indexing was very thorough and the
author was very pleased with the detailed index. The index was sent to me on
time which was appreciated because of the short turnaround.
+++
All this feels very nice, because the month has been brutal
on numerous fronts. I'll get back to whining and complaining about work soon.
On a personal note, about 8 minutes ago, I turned 54 years
old. In a hospital room on Staten Island, New York — same hospital where my
father was born in 1932 — came one of the ugliest children on record. Badly
jaundiced, dent in the head, ears rolled up. Story I once heard was that the
nurse said, “What a beautiful baby," and one of my grandmothers burst into tears. I
understand my dad went to the track for three days.
Notable things that happened on March 28? Three-Mile Island.
Eisenhower died. However, my dear, departed Aunt Muriel was born — one of the
wildest women I’ve ever known, and I wish I had known her better. And, damn, I
wish I could be more like her. If we ever run into each other, ask me to tell some Aunt Muriel stories. She was seventy years old when my wife and I married, and friends of mine who were in their twenties would have been more than happy to hit on her. She looked kinda like Joan Collins, if Joan Collins was prettier and a lot classier without effort.
