Thursday, 21 March 2013

On the Tiny Karlins and original Prometheus script...

The Twilight fucking zone of my latest book continues. I am fully aware that this is the unavoidable part of the publishing a piece process, but I am still overwhelmed by how incredibly disarmed I feel. We've been through this last week, when the editor changed my text entirely and I felt pretty fucking stupid for allowing that, not knowing better. Then for a few days it was okay, we found a common ground to work in and continued fine. And then, WHAM!, again, yet another editor... No wait, here's the kicker. this one isn't even supposed to be the editor. This one is supposed to be the grammar proof reader. But no. Now THAT one on top of the first one is going through my text, throwing out stuff that I put in there for a reason. The reason being, they ASKED me to write a perky, unique book. They asked me to write it LENGHTILY. And now? Now they are throwing out any sign of it being written by a travel-happy human and cutting it half short. 

But that isn't even happening executively. No, that happens in a process of the text being sent back and forth to me up to five or seven times.  I literally started pulling my hair out last night. Nobody has answered me WHY this is happening, WHY they asked me to write a cute travel book only to fuck it up completely just before it's printed. I could have written ANY  kind of book, I could have written it so boring it would seem as if generated by a GPS lady.

I cracked this morning, so, so sad. And torn. I didn't wanna fuck up this opportunity to prove myself to the ONLY publishing company that still exists - even if just barely - in the country. But I really don't like the direction they are taking. And it makes me wonder - is it me? Was my book actually so poorly written? was it actually... TOO PERKY? Too aloof? Too fucking unique? Was it too so much so even AFTER the first - and then after the SECOND editing? Because after the second time we edit every chapter, then come the "real editors" and just rape it up into unrecognizable string of boring data. The ONE thing they asked me to create. A not boring string of data. 

I can live without having any say in the title. I loved Tiny Karlins, because in my language it sounds perfect for this exact book. But okay. I loved the cover I made specifically for this book. But no, of course not. It has to be like the other are. Says the commercialist posing as my fourth editor. I can even live with parting with some of the funny stories I put in to make the otherwise bland events more depthy.

But I can't live with having my text completely and utterly altered in to the exact thing they hired me NOT to write. That just fucking rips me in two.

And to top all that, I've been reading the original Prometheus script, when it was still called Aliens: the engineers. Those who hated Prometheus kept saying that this script was so much better and it explained all the weird stuff happening that made people hate the movie. Well... I just can't see it. I've already figured out all of the issues of the movie by using common sense and reading a lot of theories. In fact I actually far PREFER the movie version, because most of the script reads like some fucking boring rip-off of an early Crichton novel of the AVP verse. Uuuu, the genius archeology professor and his very beautiful but very girly student. Uuuu, the evil yet incredibly intelligent android that wants to kill everyone to get his boss the technology. Uuuu, the ruddy crew that looses it when faced with mortal danger.

How much more done to death do you need to get?? We GOT all that in the past fourteen or so Alien/Predator movies, thanks. I really didn't need to have it spelled out for me again. I LOVED the way Prometheus was done. Oh, and the ship isn't called Prometheus, isn't important cause the titan  dude gave men fire (science). Wayland isn't looking for science. Prometheus is the equivalent of phoenix in this case, because the titan dude not only made people smart, he made people PERIOD. Wayland is looking for life. Not scientific profit.

So ... So I'm thinking the book I've written is like that script. It's okay. It's not bad. But to make it into a best-seller of the season (okay, only because it will be the ONLY seller of the season), does it need to go though the grinding mills of smarter people than me? And yet ... I don't really see any Ridley Scotts in that publishing house. I just see a bunch of very tired and very polite people following orders of the commercialists, pushing original texts under the train to get bland bullshit and get paid. 

So what am I to do? Admit they know better and just collect my paycheck, hoping they were right and I will be praised, learning a valuable lesson? Or stand by my original text and never open the book once it's published, for it may as well bare any given name at all, having nothing to do with my work?

I pray we weather this through. This piece was meant to prove me as a professional. All it did is made me hate the profession .