Inspired by the publication of St Mallory's Forever and our proofreading ... or the failure thereof.
You write for hours and edit 'til midnight
and chase commas and splices and colons
and those pesky close brackets that
somehow escape every single time.
And when all is done, you're fairly sure
it's pretty good (and does it matter?
only your mum will read it in the end,
you know) and you're done.
you're published at long last.
But then finally you have a book in hand
and you begin to flick through--
not reading it, mind, that'd be weird--
commas are spick and span,
but all in all you've worked so hard
and there are two chapter twelves.