March 31, 1938 – Oct. 10, 2012
Linecor Mark Hall was born in Taranaki, New Zealand. His family were cattle herders (dairy farmers) and engineers. He left home when he was sixteen to join the NZ air force. I’m not sure how old he was when he found and married the love of his life, Mo, but his love and respect for her were apparent in his every description. They raised several daughters (3, I think), and he was a proud, if unconventional, grandfather as well.
Lin, I miss you already. I can’t believe you’re gone. I only got two years with you; would that it had been much, much longer. With tears streaming down my face, I assert that one can get amazingly close to someone they’ve never met in person. Lin was my first and only editor. I found him on the Internet, offering his talents for free.
Lin loved the English language, editing, and debating the finer points of grammar. Sometimes we’d go back and forth on something, each of us finding discussions on the Internet that agreed with our point of view, until one of us gave up. Mind you, neither of us gave up easily, so eventually we usually agreed to disagree. It still didn’t stop him from trying to correct the spacing around my ellipsis every time I used one. LOL!
He was brilliant, conscientious, irreverent, stubborn, rude, loving, funny, cynical, wise, persistent, sarcastic, meticulous, profane, headstrong, intellectual, passionate, caring, and lovable. He was at once my biggest critic and my strongest supporter.
I learned a great deal from him, not only about writing, but also about life. He would give me advice such as, “Do not tell me about your writer’s psychological inhibitions! I don’t believe in that sort of babble! I always think ‘Get your head out of your arse and get on with what you’re paid to do!’ But I wouldn’t be rude enough to say that to you.” Or, upon learning that I was going by myself on a writer’s retreat because I really needed to get away for awhile, he suggested, “You might try to grab a robust hitch-hiker off the road on your way to the cabin and only keep her/him for 20 hours before kicking that one out forever. Then sleep first, relax and write later.”
I know I’ll have other editors, but no one will fill my heart quite like Lin.
Best wishes for your journey into the afterlife.
Yar! I’ll miss you, Lin.