After four read-throughs and four rounds of self-edits, I have finally shared my latest book with my trusted beta-reader.
So now begins the nail-biting period of waiting to hear what she thinks. It’s not made any easier by the fact that my trusted beta-reader likes to read in bed. Lying next to me. (Did I mention she’s my wife?)
Once she was doing this and she made a comment about what she was reading. I forget what she said exactly. I don’t think it was anything rude. She probably asked a perfectly innocent question. “You wouldn’t be able to do that if you were reading one of Salman Rushdie’s books,” I pointed out. Well, not unless she was sleeping with him, I suppose.
You might think that my wife would be biased in my favour. She is my wife, after all. Perhaps she tries to spare my feelings? Or tell me what I want to hear rather than what I need to hear?
Not a bit of it. She’s always very forthright and thankfully lets me know when things aren’t working. She’s also very good at picking up the typos I’ve missed.
If she likes something, I generally feel more confident about it. And if she has a problem, I generally change it.
At times she finds the responsibility of being my first reader weighs heavy. “But I might be wrong!” she worries.
I won’t say she’s never wrong. But it’s a sufficiently rare occurrence to be statistically insignificant. And that one time she was wrong had nothing to do with my books. It was about… oh, well, never mind. It’s not important. Though I do have a voice recording of her saying “I accept that I was wrong.”
At the very least, she’s a useful sense check. If her feedback is ever “this doesn’t make sense!” then I know I’ve got more work to do. Of course, her approval is no guarantee that anyone else is going to like it. But if she gives the thumbs up, that’s good enough for me. She’s got excellent taste, after all.
I await her verdict with trepidation, but also some excitement. I really like this one. And I really really really hope she likes it too.
