Brilliant Mistakes

Over the course of the last few weeks I've had a chance to look back and reflect on the process of writing a book. You know what I've managed to do in that time? I've reflected on the majesty of the process and reveled in the completion of a project that I dedicated over a year of my life to. Haha, back to reality. What I've actually done is focus in on the handful of mistakes I made that scream at me like a bi-polar girlfriend. I've found myself battling a bout of sleeplessness thanks to four specific mistakes, which honestly isn't a ton in the grand schemes of a 329 page book, but it's the scope of the mistakes that prevent me from comfortably counting sheep. Two of them are formatting errors that no one gives a shit about but me. They're rogue page divides. You know, the brackets that separate sharp changes in time and story. I used simple asterisks to show the divide, and I'm perfectly content with that decision. What I'm not content with is that on two occasions the asterisks decided to get high on peyote and go on a spirit journey. For whatever reason they decided to forge their own path in life and wound up one too many paragraphs away from their tribe of fellow asterisks.  

The other two mess ups are a little more egregious. In one I was describing a story about the devil himself. More specifically, I was detailing how Beelzebub decided to inhabit a crotchety old man and ruin the lives of customer service representatives everywhere. I think his goal was to get me to kill myself. And I still may at this point, because when I was trying to describe what the man's thought process was as a young adult as opposed to his old curmudgeonly self I wrote "viral" instead of "virile." That little alteration may not seem like a big deal, because in a way the old man's personality was viral in the way that his vitriol and hate spread from employee to employee like a more irritating but less permanent version of genital warts. I'm also willing to admit that by the end of the encounter I desperately prayed to be stricken with Ebola so that the conversation would stop. Bleeding from the eyes and having my brain cooked like it was stuck in a deep fat fryer is a small price to pay for a little peace and civility. Seriously, though, those two letters changed the whole context of the story that I was trying to convey. I was trying to say, "Is this the kind of chaos that the old man envisioned himself spreading as a virile young man." Now place "viral" where "virile" is and try to make sense of it. I'd honestly stick my hand in a coffee grinder filled with Tabasco sauce if you could guarantee me that my monstrous mistakes would be corrected. My viral debacle pales in comparison to my last mistake, though. I misspelled the word "retarded" in a chapter dedicated to talking shit about about the mentally handicapped. It's truly irony at its best. 

My editor, who shall remain nameless, deserves to be accredited with an assist for the insomnia inducing assault on my intellect. I paid her little to nothing and I expect perfection because of it. Also, why the hell do we as a society have a spell check system that hasn't been updated since my sister first got her T-1000 Word Processor in 1991. The only thing that's changed about spell check in the last two decades is the addition of auto-correct. A program that ironically does more damage to the English language than NFL CB Pac Man Jones (just watch the video). All these problems initially began when I spelled the non-word "viril" and got burned by the auto-correct that brilliantly thought that changing it to viral was best. Now, you're telling me that this is progress? I rather have my misspelled word stand on its own. At least that way the meaning of the story is still in tact. Also, I don't think I'm a country mile away when I accidentally spelled the word "retarded" as "rtearded." Okay, maybe that one's on me. Why couldn't it just be any other word, though? I would be fully capable of comfortably catching some z's if I misspelled bloviate, but no, I had to be introducing a chapter that's dedicated to poking fun at special needs children and I wound up joining their ranks seven syllables into the first page.
 
What I'm trying to say is, don't ever try to do something outside the box. Never create anything, don't try to be artistic, and never attempt to better yourself. People will ultimately let you down and you'll just wind up hating yourself because of it. I just needed to get this all off of my chest. I fully acknowledge my shortcomings and I'm sure I'll eventually kill myself because of it. Thanks.