The most recent 20 comments posted to Making Light by DaveHD:

In defense of stud-finders, they're made for drywall covered studwalls. Lath and plaster confuse them. Of course, even on drywall you can get false-positives off of pipes and wires. If you're going into a wall, I've learned not to make the first drill at 4:30 on a friday afternoon, 'cause on the weekends it cost $250 bucks just to get the plumber to answer the phone.

I learned the following indisputably effective method to find studs on lath and plaster wall from my father-law (a luthier who hand builds guitars with unerring skill, attention to detail, and exacting craftsmanship) when he helped us hang our 100lb mirror:

Step 1: Measure to the center of the area where you intend to hang the object (you can draw a line if it makes you more comfortable.)

Step 2:Using a 3/16 drill bit, drill into a wall. Chances are you'll poke through the lath into the wall cavity, you'll know when the drill spins freely. If you do...

Step 3: Move the drill laterally 1 1/2 inches and drill again. Repeat, alternating sides from the original hole until the drill catches a stud.

Step 4: If you've got about two feet of wall pretty well perforated without finding your first stud. Find the two holes with the biggest gap between them, you probably just missed. Sooner or later you'll draw good wood.

Step 5: From that point it's pretty easy. Studs are (usually) 16" apart (the older a house, the less true this becomes.) Just measure over to the stud nearest where you want to hang the second bracket. Refine aim using the method described above.

Don't fret that the wall looks like the backdrop at a firing range, 'cause after all, you're hanging a big frickin' mirror over the holes.

Tomorrow's helpful home hints: Plastering.

Sympathies. I always have to fight off the desire to drill through my skull with a 1/2 bit to let the pain drain away. Though, I'm told there are some unfortunate side-effects with this method.

Teresa wrote: Re barfed-on pages: People get sick, and we don't have a lot of spare room. It's another one of those things you ought not take personally. However, before I mailed them, I think I'd get in touch with the author and ask whether he wanted them back in that condition.

I can just imagine getting that e-mail from Teresa. I'd open my mailbox to see tnh(at)panix.com has sent an e-mail with the subject line: "Your Manuscript." I'd barely be able to double click for the excitement. A personal message from "tnh" can only contain on offer to buy. In fact, in the time it takes that damn thing to open I'd be dreaming of the mid-five-figures (it is my first book after all, the big money will come down the line.) And frankly, the money doesn't really matter, 'cause all I needed was a foot in the door, once published, this thing is gonna win a Hugo, a Nebula, hell, is it too early to start thinking PEN. And everybody knows you make the serious green on movie deals.

"Dear Mr H----D----"
It's personalized! Sure, she spelled my name wrong, but everybody spells it wrong. We'll make sure they get it right on the dust jacket.

"I'm sorry for the long delay in responding to your manuscript."
Not a problem, Teresa. I understand these things take time. I know full well that all the bean-counters down in marketing care about is their damn P&L spreadsheets, sales-projection charts, and marketing strategy meetings. What's two and half years when Art is eternal. I'm sure you'll be quicker on the next one.

"During the editorial review process, your manuscript was placed on a credenza near my desk."
Yeah baby, not out in the hall with all the slush losers. Tor knows gold when they see it.

"Unfortunately...,"
No. Damnit. Don't use that word.

"Unfortunately, I suffered a sudden onset of a stomach flu and attempted to vomit into my trash can."
Whew. Thank god. The misfortune is hers, not mine. But why the hell do I care? Just make the offer.

"In my haste, I missed the trashcan and barfed on your manuscript."
Nasty. Does that mean it was on top? It's okay, I'll attach a .txt and a .doc file to my reply. They'll need that in production anyway.

"Given the condition of the manuscript, I would like to know if you want it returned or would considered it disposable. Yours. TNH"
What does that mean? Did she even READ IT? That can't be the the last line. Where's the rest of the email. What the hell happened to my offer. Damnit. They owe me a deal. This shit wouldn't happen if I had an agent.

I'd knock off an angry reply, though I have no doubt that before I could hit the "send" button, all the vowels would disappear. Even if that didn't happen, I hope I'd have the good sense to delete it. Abandoning the last of my dignity I'd respond with a wimpy:

Dear Teresa,
Thank you for your note. I hope you're feeling better. Please dispose of the manuscript however you see fit. If required I'd be happy to send a replacement.
Sincerely, DHD

It's not all bad though, I'd least I'd have an "in" at conventions: "Hey Teresa, I'm the guy whose novel you barfed on. How you feeliing today?"

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