My husband does not love to read. He reads for information more than pleasure, and though the occasional novel catches his eye, he mostly sticks to nonfiction. However, because he loves me and because he knows that it's important to me, he reads all of my books as soon as I tell him I'm ready for him to do so.
For the sequel to The War That Saved My Life--very, very tentatively titled The War I Finally Won--that came last week, when I finished the first full draft. I printed out all 270 pages, and my husband sat down and read a chapter or two a day.
I appreciated this very much. He knows I do.
He didn't make a lot of comments, since this was still a rough draft. I did get, "Hey, you mis-typed Maggie as Maddie," (Whoops! I once had a horse named Maddie) and "This sentence says, 'A half hour ago, when Lady Thorton got home half an hour ago...'" (Whoops again) and "What's isinglass?"
"Isinglass is a powdered natural form of gelatin made from the air bladders of certain fish," I said, from my office two rooms away.
"What?"
"POWDERED FISH BLADDER."
"WHAT??"
"NEVERMIND. YOU CAN STORE EGGS IN IT. THAT'S ALL."
Muttering from the living room.
[Please note: Susan stored the eggs in isinglass for winter because they didn't have a refrigerator. Refrigerators caught on very quickly in the 1920s in the United States, but in Great Britain, which has a more temperate climate and much cooler summers, they really weren't popular until after WWII. I once wrote an article about the history of refrigerators. I can talk refrigerator for a long time.]
Anyhow, at the start of yesterday evening, my husband had about 110 pages to go. After awhile I noticed that he wasn't stopping. He'd quit commenting, too, though I doubt my typos had disappeared. He just read. He kept reading.
I started feeling very happy. Now, I know the opinion of someone who loves me is necessarily invalid. Of course my husband is going to like my book. He loves me. But still, I had a fairly reluctant reader who Kept. Reading. Until the end. When he blinked hard several times.
It was awesome.
For the sequel to The War That Saved My Life--very, very tentatively titled The War I Finally Won--that came last week, when I finished the first full draft. I printed out all 270 pages, and my husband sat down and read a chapter or two a day.
I appreciated this very much. He knows I do.
He didn't make a lot of comments, since this was still a rough draft. I did get, "Hey, you mis-typed Maggie as Maddie," (Whoops! I once had a horse named Maddie) and "This sentence says, 'A half hour ago, when Lady Thorton got home half an hour ago...'" (Whoops again) and "What's isinglass?"
"Isinglass is a powdered natural form of gelatin made from the air bladders of certain fish," I said, from my office two rooms away.
"What?"
"POWDERED FISH BLADDER."
"WHAT??"
"NEVERMIND. YOU CAN STORE EGGS IN IT. THAT'S ALL."
Muttering from the living room.
[Please note: Susan stored the eggs in isinglass for winter because they didn't have a refrigerator. Refrigerators caught on very quickly in the 1920s in the United States, but in Great Britain, which has a more temperate climate and much cooler summers, they really weren't popular until after WWII. I once wrote an article about the history of refrigerators. I can talk refrigerator for a long time.]
Anyhow, at the start of yesterday evening, my husband had about 110 pages to go. After awhile I noticed that he wasn't stopping. He'd quit commenting, too, though I doubt my typos had disappeared. He just read. He kept reading.
I started feeling very happy. Now, I know the opinion of someone who loves me is necessarily invalid. Of course my husband is going to like my book. He loves me. But still, I had a fairly reluctant reader who Kept. Reading. Until the end. When he blinked hard several times.
It was awesome.
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