I promise I’ll only keep up this ‘read more’ nonsense until after Tracy and Kat are done with their
nefarious generous and loving purposes.
Hopefully most of you have received your Usborne and/or Barefoot Book orders by now. There were a few backorders / out of print snafus from both publishers — those affected should have received a Paypal refund and note about those. If you didn’t, and something in your package looks amiss, send me an email and I’ll get you sorted!
I hadn’t ever seen Barefoot Books live and in person, and wow, they were all so, so lovely. We oohed and ahhhed over the artwork and the stories, and tried very hard not to drool on your goods.
The next book order will be in the spring, but if you need something in the meantime, let me know. I can usually find a way to get a book or two for you at a discounted price.
My Super Embarrassing Story
Okay. I think I can write this out now. It makes my finger tips go numb a little bit, but I can almost laugh about it, so I might as well share.
So I was recovering from surgery, being a good girl, and resting in bed with my icepack. I’d like to blame this story on drugs, but I was only taking aspirin and magnesium supplements. My bum was really tired of being in bed, and I’d hit a wall with my plot. You’re not supposed to bother about rewriting with Nanowrimo, but I’d just deleted six chapters and was in the process of rewriting them, totally changing the direction I’d thought I was going in.
Anyway, in need of a little break and some encouragement, I remembered that one of my favorite authors had quite a few articles on writing on her website. So there I was. Poking around a published author’s website. A published author with award winning books. A published author with books on the New York Times bestseller list. I stumbled across a phrase on an article about why good editors are important. OH THE IRONY. Are there editors for hire who will proofread your emails and save you from your own stupidity?
The phrase in question was, drumroll please:
kick against the pricks
It was after midnight, maybe close to two a.m. at that point, so if I can’t blame the following on drugs, maybe I can blame it on fatigue?
I thought, “Oh, what a funny typo! Prick is a slang term for penis! Surely she didn’t mean that, she meant to write ‘kick against the BRICKS.’”
Stop laughing. I… I had no idea that ‘kick against the pricks’ was not only a real term, but one that is FOUND IN THE BIBLE. What? Did my eyes just magically turn the ‘p’ into a ‘b’ because at some point in my life, I was plagued by mysterious flesh eating disease that left a gaping hole in the reading comprehension part of my brain?
But wait, it gets worse. I WROTE HER.
I actually dug through her website to find the contact information that most authors intentionally bury since they are often beleaguered by email they don’t have time to answer. I pasted her email into my gmail account (this will be important later) and sent her an email pointing out the mistake and how funny I thought it was (I quipped something about how I was sure some editors could behave prickishly), and HIT THE SEND BUTTON.
I… I didn’t even google the term. I didn’t stop, and scratch my head, and wonder at the very idea of writing to correct a published author. I just totally assumed that kick against the bricks was what everyone around me had been saying forever.
She wrote back.
She wrote back one single sentence. “Actually, that is the correct term, but thanks anyway.”
Whuugh? I punched it (belatedly) into The Google, and felt my mouth drop open as my face flamed all the way up to the tips of my ears. This, this cannot be!
I fired off a reply. I apologized for bothering her for nothing and muttered something about having egg on my face. And then I proceeded to justify my (clearly damaged) thought processes. I speculated on why everyone around me said ‘kicking against the bricks’. BECAUSE THIS IS WHAT I STILL THOUGHT. My poor, newly oxygenated brain was trying to process the information that I was wrong, because I am never wrong! There was no possible way. It must be local dialect! Perhaps everyone in Idaho had changed it to ‘bricks’ after ‘prick’ became a slang term! Maybe no one here reads the Bible! THERE HAD TO BE A REASON.
After I hit send – again – I turned to my husband and asked him if he knew that ‘kicking against the bricks’ had once been ‘kicking against the pricks.’ Without looking up (from the Bible he was reading, like he does, because he’s some kind of genius scriptorian), he said, “Nobody says ‘bricks,’ honey, it’s ‘pricks.’ It’s in Acts.” And then he starts thumbing to it so he can read it to me.
Wait, hold the phone. He’s a pretty smart guy, he knows things most people don’t. So I had to poll some other people. And some other people laughed and laughed and laughed some more.
Grumpy, I went back to The Google and plugged in ‘kicking against the bricks‘ ready to arm myself with all kinds of myspace, livejournal, and twitter accounts of people who used the term my way. And lo, there were none, and The Google even tried to correct me, as if to (gently) say, “Oh sweetie. Oh honey pie. You poor thing, it really is ‘pricks. Maybe check me next time, before you go emailing super famous people?’”
I won’t lie. I died a little bit.
But then I died even more when I realized that writing directly through my gmail account (I was on my laptop) instead of through the usual Apple Mail, inserted my full signature at the bottom of the email. So I wasn’t some anonymous housewife, I was a person with a name and a website. So embarrassing.
I wasn’t going to tell you, but it was Shannon Hale, and here is the article in question: Working with an Editor. Go forth, enjoy, and marinate in your own wisdom, because I know you knew it was kick against the pricks, didn’t you?