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It used to be that the designations of the Anno Domini system for dating notational use was pretty much all there was—and there was a definite line between the BC and the AD portions. (Keeping in mind that there is no year 0 and the date of Yeshua of Nazareth’s birth [a.k.a. Jesus Christ] is generally believed to be off by about four years.) All that aside, of late I’ve increasingly encountered the use of BCE to denote “before common era” or “before current era,” and CE for the “common/current era.”
Judging by the brisk pace of things becoming “so 5-mintues ago,” I don’t know how long we can claim that CE means “current era,” or if there is a definite line in the sand for what is current, or what is non-current. Nevertheless, I’d like to wade into the maelstrom of this discussion by suggesting that for writers, at least, there should also be a designation that denotes publishing time. May I suggest GE for “glacial era?” Or “glacial-like eternity?”
That describes it perfectly!
New writers are often surprised when I speak to them about the length of time it takes to publish a book—after it’s been written and sold! We who write picture books know that the process can take several years. I once had an editor tell me that a picture book I had sold them was due out four years later. And that was “just around the corner in publishing time.” If the editing process is going smoothly, I find the time is shorter for a novel as there is not the necessary step of securing just the right illustrator. For a novel this is generally anywhere from twelve to twenty-four months.
The amount of time it takes for a picture book to be finished does not bother me much—not anymore—I know the illustrations in a picture book can make it, or break it. It is vital for this process to be thoughtful and unhurried. And sometimes, when the artwork is not going smoothly, it can be back to the drawing board with a new artist. One friend’s book took nine years from the date it was sold to see the light of day. In addition, many editors move between publishing houses, and manuscripts can linger on desks until replacement editors are found.
In truth, the process is akin to the movement of glaciers and the birth of icebergs. Things are streaming forward, though writers cannot always see this. Underneath, all the hidden systems are churning away. Then one day . . . calving is imminent!
Everything happens. After your editor has had your manuscript for two years without a peep about it, you’ll get it via UPS with a note to have all revisions in by the end of the week. Thumbnail sketches fly back and forth. You pull several all-nighters to try to meet the sudden deadline. The UPS driver becomes your friend. He makes sure the kids are fed, and politely tells you when you need to change the pajamas you’ve been working in all week. Finally, your book charges down the cliff, and floats out to sea to be printed in foreign parts. Now, it’s only a matter of four to eight months . . .
Posted in January, 2008
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A D V E R T I S E H E R E!
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