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Malcolm Knox on building a living as a full-time writer.
I can kinda see why people need tricks to help with editing their own work, and sure, it’s easy to read your writing as though it says what you wanted it to say, and not what you actually wrote, but at the same time I think writers find self-editing difficult because really they just don’t want to have to do it.
A manuscript assessment, or reader’s report or structural report or developmental report, can be really helpful when a writer has completed a draft and rewritten it and deleted a whole subplot and put it back and added another and shown the manuscript to trusted, intelligent friends and incorporated their responses . . .
As part of our ongoing efforts to create handy and useful guides to improving workflow and quality of production, Seizure has commissioned this set of posts from editor extraordinaire Kevin O’Brien on how to set up your Word document for publishing.
Whether you’re an editor or an author, formatting your document using paragraph styles reduces the costs and frustrations of the design and publishing game. It’s really a matter of a stitch in time saving nine – a bit of effort at the beginning will save you a lot of time and effort later on.
The main aim of a professional text layout is to convey a document’s structure through its appearance, in a way that’s attractive, orderly and easy to read. This article covers the four basic rules that designers follow, so that you can do the same in Word or use these principles to respond to a commissioned text design.
Under which circumstances should you consider using paragraph styles to format your Word document? This article lists ten of them, along with the reasons why.
Dear Agony Aunt,
I’ve had a story published for the first time ever. It was awesome to see my name in print…and for the fact that they paid me to do it! However, now I need to invoice and I want to look professional but I’ve never created an invoice before – what do I include?
Dear Agony Aunt,
Can I give my book as a Christmas gift to family and friends?
‘I know they can’t all win but does he have to lose by so much?’
Mum leans over me, her lips close to Dad’s ear, her words not meant for mine but despite the barracking of the crowd and the loudspeaker’s call of the last strokes of the race, I hear them. Her breast flows over the side of my head as she raises her arm, hooks it around Dad’s neck, draws him closer. The scent of her perfume, like the back garden on a hot night, a soft sweet warm cloud that I could crawl into, fold up in, safe. Joy, one of the first words I learnt to spell from the bottle on her dressing table. Joy, just like her name.
‘I can’t tell if this one’s good or not.’ Sarah plucks a stem from her bunch and holds it out for inspection.
‘Going bad. Eat today.’
Her mum brushes her short hair back behind her ear before she begins cutting the vegetables with a meat cleaver. She recently decided to go grey with dignity, but for now her hair still looks deep purple in bright light.
The opening strains of A Current Affair’s theme song begin to play. Neither moves to change the channel.
‘There’s not enough for all of us.’
My mum’s sister, my morkour, Arousiag always lived close to my family. When I was young she lived in Villawood in the same brown, brick, public-housing flats with their rectangular white-framed windows. Her flat was opposite ours. We were on the bottom floor and she lived on the top. From our kitchen window you could see her white cement box balcony.
'When am I going to see you as a bride?’ Chrysoula asks. I greet her at the reception desk. She points a pork roll at me while she concentrates on my eyebrows. The smell is like the stench of Cook’s River. I’ve only seen Chrysoula, my waxing lady, four times over the last five months. She was recommended by my neighbour, Ali, I mean, Allie.
‘You know, he asked about you at the barbeque yesterday,’ said Yasmeen as she took her shoes off. The Muslim prayer rooms were in the small multi-faith centre that nestled almost invisibly by the side of the main campus building and thoroughfare. Its burnt-orange brick facade melded seamlessly into the side of a number of similar looking but larger buildings. A lack of signage and a lack of height accounted for its invisibility.
The Duke of Beaufort has stood on its present site since 1909. Its founding publican was Charles Ernest Whitley, a third-generation descendant of convicts. His grandfather, George Fenimore Whitley, was convicted of stealing a lace curtain and sentenced to death, but had this commuted to transportation on appeal.
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