Posts Tagged ‘oops!’ | Next Page ⇒  

I recently rediscovered a note I wrote to someone about the fact that in both the book Truck and on the next Long Beds album, I mention “Seven A.M.”, a painting by Dennis Hopper.

Um.

That’d be Edward.

Wonder how many times I’ve done that.

Not that Dennis (currently very ill) can’t paint…

Mr. Big-Shot Writer Dude just received an email from his 7th grade English teacher saying she’s enjoying Coop but that on page 138 I should have used “quietly” rather than “quiet.”

She is correct, of course.  I am told she is re-sharpening her red pen.  I expect at least three more emails.

Thanks, Mrs. R.  And thanks even more for that blackboard assignment back in 197? that helped me fall for writing in the first place.

Retired, you say?  A teacher is always teaching.

Page 107, line four: …for my one of my sisters…

My, my.

Thank you to Paula, longsufferingtime friend in Nebraska.  Many times I have raided her refrigerator.

These corrections are humbling.  They were brought to my attention by my sister-in-law Leanne.  I wrote in the book I couldn’t bring myself to discuss the details with her and my brother, but I should have.  She was very polite and kind about it, but still.

On page 269, I wrote that the fire chief put Jed and Leanne in his truck.  Leanne says the chief actually drove them in Leanne’s vehicle.

Regarding page 273, Leanne says that although she was carrying Jake during her initial firefighting class, he was born shortly thereafter and she thinks the instructor was actually referring to his surprise when Leanne turned up one week after Jake’s birth, fire gear in hand, ready to continue and finish the class.  Still — I think we can all agree — remarkable.

Finally, Leanne says she is not sure there was a heartbeat.

There are writerly lessons in all of this.  But above all, I want to do right by my family, because they are patient with me and did not ask to be (in fact would in most cases prefer to avoid being) written about.  That Leanne would take the time to read something so personally painful and then respond in such a thoughtful manner only reinforces something I try to remind myself of daily: before the writing, before the books, before any of it, there is family.  And I’m blessed with a fine one.

This one makes me feel bad.  My parents are very private folks.  The fact that I write about them is a big presumption on my part.  Tonight my Mom called me.  She just saw the book and noticed that the copy on the inside dust jacket flap says my parents have taken in “over 100 foster children.”  Mom says it was more like 60 or so (she quit keeping track around that number), and when I checked the text of the book on page 86 that’s exactly what I wrote (“sixty or so”).  I’m pretty sure what happened is I put 100 in as a placeholder early on and it got left in a lot of the promotional material after I changed it in the main text.  So.  For the sake of my Mom, and just in case I get called out on Oprah, let it be known this mixup is completely on me.