Terrifying Typos

I was guilty of laughing rather too heartily at a story about a political party the other day. They were distributing personalised bars of chocolate at one of their conferences, misspelling Britain for all to see.

The reason why I laughed so much wasn’t purely down to my political preferences. No, it's because it’s good not to feel alone – especially when you’re feeling pretty silly.

As I’ve recently discovered, when it comes to manifesting, the brain can work wonders in convincing you to read what you want to see, especially if proofreading your own work.

Oh my, if only manifesting a publishing contract for a book was so easy!

It’s something I discovered in my first job on a magazine. I was fresh out of university, with minimal publishing experience in the days before spell checking software, and working for an editor who, let’s just say, wasn’t often in this world.

And regardless of what she tried to tell me at the time, as the editor (and the fact she was probably paid about ten times more than I was) it was her job to proofread the pages and sign them off before publication, which was probably why she reacted so badly when a typo - in the heading across a double page spread of my published article - smacked her right in the face.

It's been a great lesson for me though. Since that day, over 30 years ago, I’ve always known practical is spelt with two Cs - otherwise it becomes ‘pratical’. And I did feel like a right prat watching my boss slumped across the desk opposite me, with her head in her hands, and a copy of my article almost looking up and taunting her.

Mind you, I was positioned in a similar stance when a little pack of my business cards were delivered last week. I know business cards probably aren’t a big deal for most people but if like me, you’ve worked home alone and have practically (is it spelt right?!) avoided the real world for the past 23 years, it is a monumental thing.

Just through ordering a box of these little cards, it means I’m being brave, putting myself out there and investing a bit of money in me, all in an effort to convince people I am a writer and they need to read my work (even better if they want to pay me for it!).

So a business card obviously isn’t the best place for a typo, is it Sue?

I’d meticulously, or so I thought, spelt out each of the few letters dotted across this little card, which also features my much-loved logo on the flip side.

Have you checked everything is spelt correctly, Vistaprint reminded me before I pushed send?

Well, I remember chortling to myself, at 53 years old I hope I can spell my own name by now. And maybe I was being a bit blasé as I do pride myself on taking proofreading seriously because, regardless of that initial incident, I’ve since accumulated over 30 years’ experience as a trade journalist.

And I also took proofreading very seriously when handing over 75,000 words of my first book draft to the brave victims who’d offered to read it. Many of them had read other manuscripts in the past, and were pleasantly surprised by the lack of typos in mine.

You’d also think I would notice if I misspelt one of the most important technological revolutions in recent history - the invention that has changed all our lives beyond recognition. Especially when I can remember being introduced to it in the workplace, back at the end of the last century.

Apparently not.

After proudly slipping a few of my business cards to family members, and not even caring if they were the only people I ever handed them out to, I congratulated myself on what a bargain I’d paid for one hundred of these little beauties.

But then, as I picked another out of the box, admiring it as I turned it over in my hand, I almost dropped the dammed thing in shock.

How had that got there? How had a typo snuck in? Was it the printer’s fault because why on earth hadn’t I noticed it before?

But most of all, how had I managed to maintain my concentration when proofreading over 75,000 words of a book, but it had waned before I’d even got to the end of my own email address - on a business card where I’m asking people to frigging contact me?

Sighing out loud, there was no denying I’d turned that good old internet into something called ‘interent’.

Slumping over my desk, just like my old editor had done in 1993, I now realised it would cost me double the original price to replace one hundred of these taunting little buggers that were only fit for the bin.

And it’s why I could have kissed Donna Ashworth when I told her about my little disaster last week. She tried to make me feel better by saying in the days of AI, it’s good to leave the odd little mistake in your work. Although I’m not quite sure a business card is the best place for one!

So, if you do find any typos in this blog, please let me know - discreetly as possible would be great in order to spare my battered pride!