Galleys are the proofs for a print book. The publisher asks the author to take one final read through and make any corrections before the book goes to print.
Gulp. There’s something very final about the whole process as if my living breathing creation is now going to be set in stone.
I wonder if the Evanovichs, Roberts, Rowlings, and Kings of the world all feel like throwing up each time they open their galleys?
Checking my nerves, I remind myself that this is the way things should go. My baby needs to go off into the world without me. It’s as it should be. Perefectly right.
And so I check for typos, word choice, blantant errors, and author stupidity for the very…last…time. And press send.