My novel Curva Peligrosa opens with a tornado that sweeps through the fictional town of Weed, Alberta, and drops a purple outhouse into its center. Drowsing and dreaming inside that structure is its owner, Curva Peligrosa—a curiosity and a marvel, a source of light and heat, a magnet. Adventurous, amorous, fecund, and over six feet tall, she possesses magical powers. She also has the greenest of thumbs, creating a tropical habitat in an arctic clime, and she possesses a wicked trigger finger.
I’m making what I hope will be my last proofreading of the manuscript for Curva Peligrosa. I’ve lost track of how many times I’ve made this journey through the novel, trying to track down any typos, spelling, or punctuation errors. And each time, I seem to find a few, making me wonder how I miss them to begin with. My publisher’s editor also has read the text closely, plucking out any weeds she found. But it’s almost impossible to find them all. (more…)