First of all, I'm a chemistry student. If I wrote anything that doesn't make sense, just be glad that I wasn't your copy editor.
Lyman always makes fun of how long Caitlin and I (and Tiffany, except she never gets made fun of) have been stuck in yearbook for so long. You know you've done too many books when your mood cycle (and for girls, you know what I'm talking about) is dictated by the progress of the production. That is sadly true.
Today we submitted the last 10 pages of the 2007
Blue & Gold. Granted, there are lots of corrections and contents to play around with on proofs, but a majority of the work has been done. I honestly can't tell you how successful this year has been. Well, I guess this is the to pull one of those "when I was doing my first book..." history lessons. I've honestly submitted blank pages to fill deadlines before. Our achievement this year is tremendous.
This is not to say the production was all smooth sailing. Of course, there are lots of glitches along the way. There are a lot of things we can improve on in both production and operational aspects. That's what the next two months are for. I think I'm going to need to take a few weeks off from InDesign and work as Anne Marie's yearbook Wikipedia. I don't know if I've mentioned, but in the past 6 years I've mainly involved in purely design work. I'm a designer and I'm happy to stay in that realm, but at the same time I feel like I should step out of that safety zone. Cal doesn't need any Goudy Old Style book with perfectly aligned text boxes and pica'ed photos. I think my work is done in that department.
Again, regardless of what people Caitlin and Tiffany say--you guys are such dolls by the way--this book would not have been possible without the contribution from all of you. I'm just here to help along the way and make sure pica-ing, conventions and deadlines are followed religiously, so to speak. I know it hasn't been the easiest working with/for me. I'm not someone you want to talk to about 2-3 months before the production wraps. But I promise I'm back to the normal kind person I... sometimes... am.
And I remember that exact thought that ran through my head when I finished
Iris 2005. Even just for a moment, right before the rush of adrenaline, is NEVER F#$*ING AGAIN. I'm sure all the ex-high school editors-in-chief/design tech/editors-at-large share that sentiment. Then we keep coming back for more, like moths to a flame. Yep, we're pretty much addicted to torturing ourselves on an annual cycle that is called the yearbook.
But everything is so freaken forgiven when you first run the blade over the brown packing tape to cut open the box. The glowing tranquility of the bear, the texture of the cover, the weight and the thickness of the book. Then you pick it up and open it for the first time, you smell the ink and paper--the distinct scent of process ink and the Bordeaux #100 that we try to get out of every single year. It's the smell that you keep coming back for. You see the beautiful and airy Goudy Old Style, the Garamond family, Avalon, Times Small Cap... every choice of convention we studied over. Every style, drop cap, by-line, alignment, photo credit, caption, every little details that you see, you bet someone on staff had discussed heatedly over it.
Then you feel the thickness of the paper as you first turn the page. But then you do it very carefully--you don't want to stain the beautiful, black dividers with your fingerprints. It's your book. You know every story, you counted those polls, you took all those pictures, you place all those texts. You arranged every tasteful layout and wrote every intriguing copy, you've chased down every professional photographers and made every mistake. And you know you're the only one who would ever, ever, eeeever spot those mistakes. But they are there, permanently, and it stings a little every time you see them, even though you try really hard to avoid looking at them.
We've all been there and done that. But somehow making a book that marks a permanent history of a grand university like Cal is the most satisfying thing in the world. It's kind of like having a baby, except you don't really have to deal with crying children nor are you obligated to provide food, shelter, education, insurance, etc. Anyway I'm rambling too much. Thanks for the great work everyone and let's strive to do even better next year. For that it will the last book for a lot of us.
Really.
Hey B&G'ers!
