The Last Preface By Eric Lundgren The publisher’s database must be obsolete by decades, because they called my office. “We have a manuscript,” they said. “Of course,” I said. “You would, you always do.” “We need a preface,” they said. “We can provide a manuscript with the original coffee stains.” Unfortunately, I was interested. “My preface will be misleading,” I warned. “We know,” the publisher replied. “We know all about you.” “The manuscript arrived in fine shape,” I wrote a few days later, “but I am not going to open it for a while.” The publisher spent $15.90 to overnight the parcel, in the mistaken belief that this would expedite the writing of my preface. But I am an unprolific and obstinate man. Out of sheer boredom I broke the seal. The coffee stains were merely traces. The MS measured eight by eleven inches, and was printed on near-translucent paper. The font: fourteen-point. The typeface: Linotype in Fairfield, which, I read, “displays the sober and sane qualities of a master craftsman whose talent has long been devoted to clarity.” READ MORE FLASH FRIDAY: tinhouse/blog/26894/the-last-preface.html
Posted on: Fri, 13 Sep 2013 16:30:15 +0000
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