In “Disco Donna,” three very modern teenage girls stumble
upon proof of their town’s most famous urban legend. Disco Donna was the 80’s
girl too hot to care about her bad reputation. Donna was murdered on Halloween
night, left in her bed clasping a single red rose. Her killer was never found
and theories of the murderer’s identity are still whispered in the town’s
cafés, shops, and high school hallways.
It was great fun to create my own urban legend and even more
fun to work with the talented authors who shared their expertise and time to
take my story from rough draft to less-rough draft, sharpening plot twists,
highlighting characters, and omitting needless words. We discussed techniques
for breaking and entering, ink colors, and the best ways to hide things you
don’t want your parents to find. When my drafts came back heavily tattooed with
editorial marks, my heart fell, but each suggestion helped me tighten and
improve the work.
Now the story is a galley. To sailors, the galley is a
kitchen. To lovers of B movies, a galley is a Ben Hur style long boat powered
by men chained to oars. In publishing, the galley, or “galley proof” is the mock
up of the book, the penultimate step before it goes to be printed. It’s the
last chance. The galley is the dress rehearsal of the publishing process. All
the writing and rewriting and editing and polishing have taken place and now
we’re looking for typos. It’s done. Don’t get any ideas, the editorial
coordinator warned me. (OK, Barb!) It’s too late for changes, unless they are
huge.
So I am thrilled and a bit afraid to review my story. What
if I do find that huge mistake? What if’s make for good story ideas, but also
for a bad night’s sleep. But then I remember the great advice and help I have
received from my Sisters in Crime editors. Thank you Marcia, Donna, and Barb!
Without your help, I wouldn’t have slept as well last night.
How did you feel when you first saw your work in galley
form?
