Dunne by the Book

I first became acquainted with New Orleans by way of a pile of trash in a North Side Chicago alley. Therein lay an original painting by Donabeth Jones titled "Rue Royale." I was between original artworks at that time, having recently given away a creepy rendition of the Velvet Peanut Butter boy and yet to meet its replacement. So, under the "one man's trash" rule, I retrieved the painting, complete with a typewritten note by its artist glued to the back of the frame explaining its provenance. Said frame also featured a broken glass front and an ill-suited harsh orange matte border. After moving with me from one household to the next, and repeat, I finally took the painting to a framer and asked him to replace the glass and change out the matte to a more subtle, flattering theme. By then, I had visited New Orleans twice. The freshly dressed painting hangs in our living room. It depicts a typical scene in the French Quarter: two women walking by a building on Roya...

When people say, I've known since I was five years old that I wanted to be a [your career here], does that necessarily mean it's a good idea to pursue that career as an adult? Certainly this is no breakthrough in psychiatric analysis, questioning one's_my_career aspirations. But here I am anyway. I did pursue my career aspiration; I did say, in second grade (so I guess I was seven years old, ever the late bloomer), that I wanted to be a proofreader for a living. And I became one, in my first real job out of college. Did I know what a proofreader was at seven, at that wee, already literately jaded, age? Actually, yeah, kind of: someone who catches other people's mistakes in the safest possible forum, under the sanction of good grammar and style. But here's the couple of things about that: First, proofreading falls at the bottom of the editorial career spectrum and hence falls at the entry level of salaries. So, as any smart, agile proofreader does, I learned copy edi...

It should come as no surprise that I'm intent on growing my business. That intention requires me to contact prospective clients. I actually have the perfect excuse to nudge them: I recently joined Chicago Book Clinic and the Council of Science Editors . It's time to broadcast the news. While my workload so far, thankfully, has only suffered the expected seasonal lull, I am reaching out once again to contacts in publishing to bolster my clientele. I opt to e-mail. I justify this choice by insisting (to myself) that people are more receptive to e-mail; that I like to allow them to respond in their own time rather than command them to speak when I call; that, most of all, I display my talents best in a written format rather than a spoken exchange. Therein lies my current problem. Earlier today I drafted a note to a potential client, using a previously sent e-mail as my boilerplate. Sound familiar? See where this is going? I began to rework the new e-mail to appeal to the second r...

A nascent book reviewer, I last formally critiqued a literary work_a short story_in high school, an uncomfortable undertaking at the time. Now I'm inspired by two events to share my book vibe: my discovery of the present book and my launch of the present blog. I hope you'll let me know your own take on this and any other books you happen upon that inspire your voice. Look for more of My Vibe book reviews in the future. Kerri McCaffety's The Majesty of the French Quarter (Pelican, 2000) is, in a word, a gem. It is a well-stocked book of photography and related text on the archtecture, interiors, and courtyards of New Orleans' French Quarter. The majesty is as much in McCaffety's sensibility as in the subjects of her photographs. My first turn through The Majesty _I immediately knew it would be far from my last_was simply moving slowly from photo to rich photo, only infrequently sneaking a look at the accompanying captions and text. Next time was for absorbing both t...