Two weeks ago or so, I was contacted by a former coworker* about maybe doing a bit of paid editing for a friend of a former student of hers. I figured, why not. I’d charge a little bit so I’d be taken seriously (and seriously, money’s nice), but not going rates since I’m not a pro editor. I thought it’d be a quick job–maybe a hundred pages, double spaced, of grammar-nazi-ing the ramblings of an old man.
What I got was 299 pgs of 5×8 formatted CreateSpace template memoir. Double spaced. With formatting as well as grammar issues.
It was…a lot of work, and was well worth it. The gent had had a shit childhood, then spent time in the Navy in the 60’s on, including on the contractor side.
I don’t know if he and his family are planning on publishing this for sale. I do know that his kids and grandkids wanted it done, and wanted to be able to put a print copy in his hands before he moves on to his reward.
I am seriously, deeply honored to have been able to be a part of that project. And I wish I could meet the old fellow whose life I just finished reading.
*My coworker hasn’t taught in a few years. From what I gathered (unofficially), she quit teaching about the time she started feeling as if she had to teach with a security guard in the room because of threats from a specific demographic because she wasn’t rubber-stamping their work with A’s, and she was only a woman, and shouldn’t be judging their work to begin with.